#even though spring has been hell cause my eyes are dry so my contacts are blurring and i cant see

[usermoon]

i'm not the type to run, i know that we're having fun but what's the rush? kissing, then my cheeks are so flushed

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john x reader (part 3 of ?)

gif by @michaelgreys but i cropped it cause god daMn 👀

read part one and two! | my masterlist

a/n: this one goes out to all my john bitches!! i know it's hard out here, we get no new content but this part is steamy as hell. its not over yet, though! i'm a sucker for happy endings, ok? i hope you all like it, i'm still working on requests as i go :) much love to @stxdyblr-2k for ghostwriting on this series, she has the most amazing ideas in the world 🖤

love, abi xxx

tagging: @datewithgianni

prompt: john's been ignoring you and you want to know why.

warnings: fluff, angst, nsfw!! smut, cocky john, just straight up porn at the end but can you blame me

John hadn't spoken a word in your direction for a week. Despite constantly seeing you glued to Ada's hip, he’d barely acknowledged you since the wedding. He didn’t even bother looking up. Instead his jaw tensed, taking longer inhales of smoke, constantly examining the pocket watch dangling from his right hip. You were the last person John wanted to see right now. He couldn’t get you out of his head, the flush of your cheeks as you had moaned for him imprinted in his memory. You were fucking picturesque writhing around in his lap, a mess for him, and only him. He’d never felt like this; never wanted someone so badly it hurt. Usually, he drowned what little emotions he had in the nearest bottle of whiskey. You, however, were igniting something inside him he’d never felt. Lust, yes, but it was more. A yearning, a need, to see you smile at his crap jokes for the rest of his fucking life. God, you were getting to him.

His coldness and distance towards you hadn't gone unnoticed. To John’s embarrassment, his brothers regularly referred to it as "a little tiff", usually when you were within earshot, as they loved embarrassing his brother. They were blissfully unaware of the full story, assuming his cockiness had put you off him. He sometimes wondered the same; even though you remained polite by greeting him despite the minimal nod he responded with, you seemed ashamed. John only hoped it wasn't because you were ashamed of him. The truth was, he couldn't get the intensity between the two of you off his mind. Whenever he so much as caught a glimpse of you, he remembered how pretty you looked begging for him, then the embarrassment of having to reject you out of family loyalty. You admitting you wanted to have sex with him, him getting fucked off at you because you were off your face, complicating everything. Yet, every night, he held your words close to him, trying to decipher them.

He knew his brothers wouldn't get it. They wouldn't understand how tragic it was; they'd think it was funny that Ada's best friend wanted to fuck him. Either way, John would always rather put himself in the firing line of his brother's jokes than risk your reputation being blemished. He just couldn't look at you without a wave of guilt and sexual attraction flowing through his veins, causing his jaw to clench and his shoulders to stiffen, his suit jacket expertly covering strain on the crotch of his trousers.

A full week had passed since the wedding, of a man Tommy had recruited in an assassination effort. It was embarrassing how his family used money to attempt to push the trauma they created under the carpet. He knew he didn't have room to talk, but fuckin’ hell, a wedding? Maybe Tommy should've just not hired him to blow the brains out of his own father. Well, it was one way to get rid of the police commissioner who got too nosey, John guessed.

He had hoped that you were a passing phase of infatuation. He’d had many before; he’d been notorious around Birmingham for his conquests. Sure, it was possible he had just gotten overly excited and intoxicated around a beautiful girl. Yet, in the quiet moments of his life, in between his kids and business, his mind was only on you. You, straddling him in that booth, the way you grinned at him as he approached you at the wedding party. Sometimes when he was driving home, his mind would drift off thinking of the feeling of your figure pressed against him, the feel of your lips, your laugh, the sound of your heaving breaths against his ear. You haunted him the most at night, visions of you with his name on your lips in his silk sheets. You were his forbidden fruit, dangling barely out of reach.

***

John was at his desk, paperwork long abandoned in favour of whiskey and a cigar, lost in his own thoughts. The loud tapping of rain and the wind of the storm outside shook the windows, yet John felt somewhat at peace; a temporary peace, but he could unwind. Just his desk, the moonlight, the gas lamp illuminating his empty glass and the heavy English rain for company. He found far more joy in the simplicity of life than his brothers, who reeked of new money. He liked his things the way they were, it all worked, but he had to admit he was a sucker for a good suit. The kids were long in bed, the nanny to comfort their nightmares. It made him feel like a shit father, and he didn't want to be like his useless dad. He had started resenting the life Thomas was forcing him to live; the booze, the partying, the Tokyo, the fighting. It was wearing on him. He needed a break from everyone in this town, he reckoned.

However, a certain unexpected guest was always welcome to him. You had just drifted across his mind when a firm knock at the door caught his attention. He straightened his tie, leaving his legs outstretched and crossed on the dark oak desk, calling for the visitor to enter.

There you were. Dripping from head to toe, but still as beautiful as ever to him, despite your damp hair and slightly smudged makeup. You had caught him off guard, and in his surprise, he couldn't suppress the cheeky grin which spread across his face.

"Got caught in the storm, eh? I'll put the fire on and pour you a drink yeah? Warm you up." He slurred slightly, springing into action, lighting the fire and going to fill two glasses with whiskey, which you politely refused.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Mr. Shelby."

He decides he won't either. He tried to ignore your piercing gaze, motioning you to sit across his desk from him, reaching to put the whiskey in his drawer. "That's not like you. Where you headed, love? That lecture with Ada?"

"I came to see you."

He noted your firm tone, the flirty smile, the coy eye contact.

"What's the occasion?"

"You've been avoiding me." You told him bluntly, his cheeks reddening, eye contact breaking momentarily.

"Yeah, I know." He took a draw from his cigar, rolling the smoke from between his lips on the exhale. "M’sorry."

You watched him for a moment and he met your eyes, suddenly softened from his usual icey blue inquisitive stare. To shame, he looked so vulnerable right now. You could feel yourself falling for him again. This is what you hung around for, the fleeting glimpses of the authentic John Shelby. The lad you'd first giggled about in the girl's bathroom at lunch, barely knowing what sex was. Barely understanding power and politics. Unaware of who you'd both end up as.

"You're fucking soaked to the bone. Come on, I'll put your clothes to dry by the fire. And don't give me that look, I'll give you my coat to save your modesty, lass." He teased. You ignored the way his muscles flexed as he reached for his woolen jacket, some outrageously expensive tailored affair from some London boutique, his large rough hands brushing your fingers. "I'll turn around."

You grasped the coat, heading to the fireplace and warming up for a moment, checking that you were far from his line of sight. This was a dangerous game for you both. You wished he'd grab you, take you on his desk and finish what he started, but the way he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited indicated that he was restraining himself.

You'd rid yourself of your thin jacket, bought from the market stall last week, effortlessly trendy but an imitation of the pricey stuff Ada and the blinder wives and girlfriends you knew. You were jealous of their fur coats, they were always warm and glamorous looking even on the coldest winter night in Birmingham.

You glanced across the room to John. He was staring intently at the wall lost in thought, teeth gritted.

"John? Could you unzip me?" You asked, purposefully making your voice sound as neutral as possible, looking at him over your shoulder.

He paused, bringing his fingers to rub circles against his jaw. You caught a glimpse of white teeth and dimples as he glanced at you out the corner of his eye and you can't help but match his coy grin. He pushed himself off the desk and quickly closed the small distance towards you, his hand finding first your shoulder then the zip at the nape of your neck, your breath hitching as he pulled the zip to your waist. You could feel his eyes tracing the curvature of your spine and hips. You both hesitated for a moment, before John’s warm fingertips grazed your waist, lips pressing into your hair affectionately. His mouth found his way to your ear, cheekbone, jaw and then neck, encouraged by the way your left hand cradled his head as you pressed your body back into his and how your eyes drifted shut at his touch.

"Sweetheart, why did you come here?" He muttered into your ear, his words and casual affection causing your core to swell in response.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you. I've barely slept in a week, feel terrible. Then you've been ignoring me-"

"It isn't personal, Y/N. You know this isn’t how I want it to be." His hands found their way to your waist, gripping lightly at your hip bones, sending a shiver down your back.

"Well this is how it is, John. It's never going to be any different. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"What are you fucking on about, love?"

"I reckon that just once can't hurt, nobody would know but us. Then we can both move on with our lives..."

John hesitated, "What about Ada?" His head rested on your shoulder, the scent of your sweet perfume causing him to want you even more. Jesus, he was too far gone.

"We were so close the first night I got here and we didn't. No one caught on then, why would it be different now?"

He wanted to trust you so badly, it ached inside of him. He wanted to feel you around him, make you cum for him again and again, for you to be breathless and shaking under him. He wanted to give you everything he could, even if just once. But he couldn't.

"She's my sister. Family is everything; if I don't have them, I’ve got nothin’." He stated firmly, yet his palms lingered on your hips, the liquor destroying his perception of the distinction between friendly touching and actions that made you swallow deeply and pray for relief.

"You have me for tonight." You pulled away from him, ignoring the groan that escaped from his lips at the loss of contact. You locked your eyes with his blue ones and pushed the straps of your dress from your shoulders, allowing the damp material to pool around your feet, standing in front of the man you'd wanted for years. It was now or never.

He stayed silent, watching you, eyes not leaving yours, challenging you for a brief moment before his eyes flickered over your figure.

"Is it such a crime to want to fuck you?" You asked, the silk of your skimpy underwear forcing John to wipe the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he drank you in, mumbling profanities under his breath. Yet, despite the glances and his sudden frustration, you could tell you had him. His eyes were feral and hungry, daring you to keep pushing him. His shoulders were squared, he was ready for action. The crackling firelight illuminated you beautifully; you were irresistible to him.

"It's not a crime. Where'd you get this backbone from?" He asked, reaching for you but you stepped away, teasing him.

"University up north does sommet to a woman."

"You can fuck off or fuck me with that attitude."

"The latter if you behave yourself, Mr Shelby."

He smirked at you, holding his hands up in mock surrender, before wrapping his coat around your shoulders, pulling you towards him by the back of the collar. "You've got a mouth on you, love. You gonna put it to good use?"

"I was told months ago that you'd sort me out, John-" Your speech was interrupted by a small squealing giggle as he tugged at your hair lightly for mocking his voice, his eyes bright and crinkled at the edges due to his grin. "I'm disappointed with these delays, especially from the Shelby Company."

"Well, as the boss, I'll sort it for you, personally and immediately. Let me make it up to you, lass," John crooned, his lips meeting yours once again, fingers pushing your thighs apart, still clad in your black stockings and garter belt. "This is where we got up to last time, yes?"

"Yes Mr. Shelby, I believe so."

He pressed his lips and teeth against where your jaw met your neck, tracing his index and middle fingers over the silk of your underwear which covered your slit. You couldn’t help but lean into him, a slight hiss escaping your teeth.

"You like that, huh? You're fuckin’ soaked for me already, love," John muttered against your neck, lifting your left leg to hook around his waist, easily lifting you onto his desk, scattering loose papers and heavy accounting books onto the floor in his urgency to feel your bare skin on his. "They teach you how to push a bloke over the edge at that fancy university?"

"No, I figured that out on my own actually."

"Always knew you were bright," He smirked, quickly ridding you of your flimsy panties, the pads of his fingertips hot against your thighs. "Always going for the ones smarter than me, Tommy reckons it's not difficult."

"Your brother's chatting shit, he's not the one ‘bout to fuck me on his desk, yeah?" You shot back, opening your thighs to encourage him, your cunt exposed, cutting off John’s laugh. He couldn’t help but stare, eyes glued to your dripping cunt. "You're my favourite brother, always have been. If you tell Finn, I'll kill you," You teased.

"Come off it," John grunted in reply, unable to restrain pressing kisses to your inner thighs, your head tilting back, fingers desperately clutching at his hair. “Need t’get a proper taste of you, yeah? Look so fuckin’ sweet for me.” His mouth reached your core, slowly dipping his tongue into you, causing your mouth to fall open in ecstasy. God, his lips were even softer than they looked. His movements switched from light and teasing to purposeful and focused, his fingers curled and pumping inside you, tongue and thumb attacking your clit. He'd gotten on his knees, your legs wrapped around his neck as he groaned into your cunt, causing you to buck your hips wildly at the sensation, moans falling out of your mouth.

“Fuckin’ christ, John,” You swore, feeling yourself pulsate and twitch around his nimble fingers, crying out into the empty office building. You were getting so close, your hips jerking independently, chest heaving as you gasped for air. You were quickly getting overstimulated, you were so close. Before you could finish, John raised his head back to yours, letting you taste yourself on his mouth, his hands moving from your cunt to your tits, finger tips tracing the outline of your nipples through your silk bra.

"If we get to do this once, I want to feel you finish on my cock, doll," John grunted in a hushed tone, pointedly moving his lips to your collarbone when you opened your mouth to argue back to him.

"Then I get to ride you." Your statement took him by surprise; most women he'd slept with seemed fairly passive in bed. Sure they enjoyed themselves, but they never took control. He could feel himself swell in response to your words. He'd never been put in this position; he was a stranger to it, but the idea was thrilling and wickedly seductive. Especially from someone who was the epitome of "girl-next-door" as they were growing up.

"Polly reckoned you'd be trouble since Ada told us you'd returned. Don't mind getting into trouble with you, though," He teased, his plump mouth dipping to your cleavage, unclasping your bra, tongue circling your hardening nipples.

"John, fuckin’ christ, need you to finish me off, yeah?" You begged, voice shaking, much to his amusement, his fingers re-entering you roughly. John pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, soothing your body from the sharp sensation, the slight pain exacerbating the pleasure arising from his mouth and fingers.

"I've barely started with you, and already you're begging for me to fuck you." He muttered into your skin, as he watched you writhe and lift your hips, reacting beautifully to the feelings he was reawakening within you.

"John, m’not fucking about, yeah? I need you," You whined, hand resting on his inner thigh, fingers grazing the fastenings across his groin, gazing up at him from your seat on his desk. John hated waiting for relief, he had very little patience, and almost immediately he gave in and collapsed into his large armchair, pulling you on top of him, letting you pin his wrists to the chair and grind against him as your mouth found his, then his neck, removing his waistcoat, shirt and tie, revealing his muscular chest. The bruising kisses you pressed to his skin left him breathless and needing more, helping you unbuckle his belt and push his suit trousers down his legs. You couldn’t help but take him into your hand, moving it up and down his sensitive shaft.

“Christ, you’re too fuckin’ good at this,” John groaned as you spit on your palm to better move your hand up and down his cock, teasing the sensitive tip with your fingers and tongue. He couldn’t help but watch you, keeping eye contact as you toyed with him, blue eyes heavy with pleasure and lust for more.

You angled your hips above him and he adjusted himself, using his hand to better push himself inside you. You yelped lightly as you adjusted to his girth, his mouth distracting you by pressing kisses on your shoulder and tangling his hands through your hair, trying to control his breaths as you adjusted to him, soft moans falling from your mouth, your tight cunt gripping his cock.

“S’fuckin’ perfect, like your pussy was made for me,” he groaned, breath growing heavier with the sensation of you grinding against him. Pushing his hips up into you, he couldn’t help but grab at your hip bones, grip burning into your skin, bouncing you on his cock, mouth slightly slack, groaning as he grasped at your flesh. You’d imagined hundreds of times how fucking irresistible John would look underneath you, but it was nothing compared to the real thing.

The thrill of having John Shelby with his trousers down in his office, quickly dissolving into a moaning and grunting mess with every rotation or twist of your hips, in the midst of a stormy night while the thunder echoed around the empty streets below was almost too much to take. You should be home right now, curled up in that empty unheated flat, behaving yourself. Even on a date or fucking someone else. But instead you'd gone to him and now you were riding him. You wanted the moment to last forever, right now everything felt so right, you knew when it was over the guilt would hit. But you couldn't avoid it, you could feel your legs start to shake.

“Look so god damn pretty ridin’ me, love. Makin’ me wanna cum inside you.” John growled, panting, struggling to keep pace as you moaned on top of him. Your fingers found his jawline and guided him to look up at you, craving to see how his face looked when he finally came undone. He reached between your legs, torturing your clit with his fingers while he slammed into you a few extra times, using up the rest of his energy. The extra stimulation pushed you over the edge, crying out John’s name as you felt yourself release. Watching you whine his name was the last straw for him, spilling into you as your dripping cunt squeezed him, reveling in the image of you a mess for him.

***

You finally came back to your senses, catching your breath, John clutching you to his chest protectively for a minute or two, enjoying the tranquility and post-sex clarity. He checked his clock, sighing and lifting you from his lap to his desk, running a towel under the sink in the corner of his room and passing it to you to clean up between your legs with.

"Charming," You smirked, tired but satisfied. "No wonder the ladies always come back for more."

"Not you though, aye? One night only exclusive, this." He matched your playful tone, but his eyes were dull with exhaustion and he looked almost upset. He was probably just knackered after working all day and then going overtime just to please you.

"Make yourself useful and grab my clothes for me John-lad." You teased, thankfully changing the subject. He rolled his eyes in the waning firelight, locating the clothes the two of you had left scattered around the room. You quickly dressed, not caring how he watched you silently, as though trying to memorize the image of you. Your clothes were far drier than earlier, the last remaining remnants of damp clutching to the fibers and freezing you all over again. Yet before you could even comment, John's wool coat was wrapped back around your shoulders.

"Because you're cold, not because you look fuckable in it." He said pointedly, smirking slightly, the edges seeming artificial.

"Remind me not to fall madly in love with you. Won't be able to help myself if you keep talking like that, Mr. Shelby." You retorted sarcastically with a grin, earning a gentle dig to the ribs.

"It's Mr. Shelby if you're trying to fuck me. John is between friends and family, right?"

"Someone better inform Mr. Solomons of that distinction, then," You paused, "Mr. Shelby."

"Don't be a fucking cocktease." He scolded with a small grin, grabbing his car keys and hat from the door. "You want a lift then? Don't dick about being polite, Y/N, it's fucking midnight, just accept it."

"Since you asked so nicely."

"You know you've got worse since you've been at uni? Too fast for us lot now." He teased, half serious, as he led you to his car. He couldn't believe the beautiful woman in his passenger seat was the girl with pigtails who'd chase Ada around the canal with their girl gang for hours, the pretty teen who read for hours in his sister's bedroom, comparing notes together. No one was surprised you got a scholarship to university, despite your gender and class. You'd been incredibly lucky. Yet, you'd seen the world and had come back to Birmingham and picked him.

Shame you could only pick him once.

[daydreamingatnight209]

Part 2 of my Azriel Fic.

Please see the first part of content warning and remember, minors please do not engage or interact as this is a 18+ post!

“Alpha- Male Bullshit”

Part 2

Azriel x Female Reader - part 2

Warnings- See part 1 for all warnings. All parts will be available on my Masterlist, Soon 💞☁️

——————————————————

Azriel was dumbfounded. What had happened?

Had you felt the mating bond? Did you reject it? His head was buzzing, he couldn’t get his thoughts in a straight line.

He made his way back up to his own room but found Lucien waiting outside the door, grinning.

“You know for someone who’s supposed to be her mate, you’re sure a lousy one. She doesn’t even KNOW it. She needs a real man in her life”

Azriel sneers. His blue Siphon’s glowing in warning under the low light.

“And I suppose that’s you?”

Lucien laughs.

“Well obviously”

At that, Azriel didn’t hold back. A loud crunch! echoes through the landing as his hand connects with Lucien’s jaw.

Bruises form as he tackles him to the floor, skin breaks and blood oozes down the delicate fae’s face.

Azriel continues to pummel Lucien, all sense of control lost, even his shadows had disappeared.

Azriel didn’t even feel Rhysand appear behind him with Cassian and Feyre.

Feyre gasps as it took both Cassian and Rhys to pull the shadowsinger from Lucien, who was now completely unrecognisable.

Azriel let out a low nasty growl. A warning.

“Let. Me. Go.”

Both of his brothers had him pinned up against a wall, as Feyre attended to the injured male on the floor.

“Get him out of here” Rhysand commanded his wife, the rare tone of authority evident.

Feyre wastes no time removing Lucien from the scene, taking him far enough so that the others could release their brother in arms.

I leave you two alone with my son for a night and THIS HAPPENS? What the hell Az?!”

Rhys exclaims.

“He treats her like she is his property! It’s wrong. He can’t go around thinking he can just help himself!”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian could find the right thing to say. They knew exactly how Azriel felt. The bond clicked in place for him, he was just out here on edge, waiting for a response...

———————————————

When I awoke the next morning, I was surprised to see what I slept through. Lucien’s face was filled with shades of blue and purple, his only working eye was swollen and there was a majority of cuts slowly healing.

I stood still, taking in his appearance, trying to hide the shock.

“What the, erm, what the hell happened?”

My mouth was dry. What had I missed?

“Your mate, that’s what happened. Your precious Azriel” Lucien growls.

Lucien wasn’t happy. He had spent the night with Rhysand discussing the lady that now stood in front of them both. Rhysand needed to keep the spring court ties available but that didn’t stop him from telling Lucien that he needed to keep his toe in line. What he did was wrong, and Lucien knew that. He didn’t have a leg to stand on.

“10 on him lasting two thrusts” Rhys whispers to Cassian.

Cassian scoffs “50 that he comes the moment his dick is in her mouth”

But for me, the word Mate just spun around and around in my head.

I felt my throat close up as I spun around on my heel.

My body lunged forward, and I begin to sprint up the staircase.

I found myself outside the spy masters bedroom and I was knocking rapidly on the door.

It flung open and I lost my footing. I landed in a familiar pair of arms.

Tears well up in my eyes as I stare into his own. It was like peering into another’s soul.

“You’re, you’re my ... my mate” I whisper.

I felt a sudden nudge and was pressed against his body.

Those pesky shadows.

Azriel places his scarred hands against my soft rosey cheeks. I lean in but I’m hesitant.

I try to pull away but Azriel brushes his thumb over my lip. He has his own glossy tears falling.

“Please” he begs.

It didn’t take much convincing.

“Okay” I mouth, slowly wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders.

He kissed away the stray tears from my face before our lips joined, they were damp, and the kiss was gentle.

I run a small hand through his raven hair, he pulls back, and I rest my forehead against his, eyes closed tight.

I felt his breathing become steady, matching my own.

I didn’t have to speak for him to know.

“I accept you as my mate forever and always shadow-singer, just as you accept me”

He lifted me with very little effort and carried me to the king sized bed in the middle of his darkly lit room.

I felt him harden against me, causing me to groan, just as he drops me smack bang in the middle of the mattress.

I immediately wrap my legs around his waist bringing him back to me.

He leaves a trail of harsh kisses down my face and travels to my neck. He stopped in the middle and bites down gently, just piercing the skin slightly, as a trickle of blood slides down, he licks it and sucks on the wound causing me to gasp.

He laughs ever so softly as I reach to undo his belt and wrestle with his top. Azriel mirrors my actions, ripping away the satin nightgown, leaving me exposed.

I felt the sudden urge to cover up, but he stops me.

“Don’t” he whispers.

“Do you trust me?”

I couldn’t do anything but nod.

He pinned my hands above my head and let go. When I try and pull them back down, I am met with resistance.

I look at him for a moment slightly confused until I take notice of his missing shadows.

I look back up to my wrists and see that they are keeping me in place.

Azriel is smirking proudly and if I didn’t sound crazy, I’d say his shadows were laughing at me.

Azriel looks down, surveying every inch of me, like he was committing it to memory.

I was suffering from the lack of contact and released a small whimper to alert him of my needs.

His fingers dance down my body as I wait in anticipation.

The first lick of his tongue sent a chill down my spine. I moaned in approval as he continued to tease me while I remained unable to do anything.

Soon his fingers replaced his tongue and the first pump almost had my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

My body arched, completely at his mercy as my climax neared.

“Your mine” he snarled, just as I went over the edge.

“I’m yours” I whispered, half sobbing at the intense pleasure I was feeling.

I ride out my orgasm and his shadows release me, hiding within my lover, as if they didn’t want to spoil this moment.

My arms shoot up towards him and a wicked gleam enters my eye.

I stroke his right wing and watch as he shudders.

He gives me a look of warning dominance, but I just continue my actions.

His cock twitched.

I caress his body as delicate whimpers escape him. I wanted to play the long game, but it looked like Azriel couldn’t wait any longer.

He nudged my entrance and looked at me for reassurance.

I nodded and he slid in.

I could hardly breathe as he slowly filled me. It burned slightly but that soon disappeared as he begun to play with my breasts. Taking his time with each nipple as he moved carefully inside me. My eyes fluttered shut and once I had adjusted, I’m opened them to see him smiling down at me.

It was a vulnerable smile; one I doubt anyone else would ever see.

The pace quickened as I let out a series of moans, each louder then the last.

He thrusted deeper and faster each time and that’s when I felt it.

That familiar sense of euphoria I experienced that night in the kitchen, I knew it wasn’t just a climax. It had to be the bond. With each pound into me the sense of euphoria grew ever more intense and the bond became clearer and clearer.

My body lifted from the bed as release tore through me, Azriel following suit shortly after, a low rumbling roar that definitely echoed though the house, escaped him.

Our bodies were damp and limp by the time we had finished, I curled into him for the night.

I felt at peace lay upon his chest, holding his wounded hands in mine. He was reluctant for me to hold them at first, but I just kissed them softly, words weren’t needed but I said then anyways.

“Never be ashamed Azriel for I love every part of you, no matter how scarred, no matter how damaged. I love you”

That night Azriel slept, a true deep sleep, for the first time in long time.

——————————————————

I awoke the next morning with Azriel’s arms wrapped tightly around me as memories from yesterday evening came flooding in.

I smile and cuddle back into him, only to find him awake.

“Morning” I mumble.

“Morning”

His voice was husky, and his chest was bare. I tried to ignore the pooling wetness between my legs but to no avail.

I sat a top of him and slowly move down to his shaft. I lick slowly and watch him as he tries to show restraint.

I continue the slow and tortuous pace before a series of bangs on the door scare me enough to fall back into the bed.

I roll my eyes as Cassian’s voice travels through the wall.

“Good morning lovebirds! Let’s get up and out, we have training”

There was a pause and I could practically hear his smirk in the next sentence that left his mouth.

“Oh, and Y/N if he didn’t make you scream loud enough, I sure as hell could”

I didn’t even see Az leap from the bed and throw open the bedroom door.

A wild snarl ripped itself from Azriel as he whirled on Cassian.

Cassian laughs as Azriel’s fist clashed with his jaw, but before it could get any further, I grabbed a pillow and launched it at both of them. It caught their attention long enough for me to say, “Cut it out with the alpha male bullshit already”

Rhysand’s voice boomed from the bottom of stairs.

“Y/N is right, take it to the bloody training ring. Stop ruining the house”

It was two hours later that Azriel returned looking like he had just faced death itself and survived.

I look up from my seat in the bed where I had been reading my book and simply said.

“I don’t even want to see the state of Cassian”

[miyuhpapayuh]

Alone Time.

"Well, when's the last time y'all spent some time together?" My best friend asks. I shrug, trying to think about it.

"Honestly, I don't even know! We've been so busy working and we're almost, always so fucking tired." She sighs.

"Girl, y'all gotta fix that!"

"How?"

"I don't know! Wake him up in the middle of the night and sit on his face or something!" I roll my eyes and hold my laughter in.

"Girl, get off my phone!" I hang up before she can and toss my phone on the bed.

"Lord, she is aggravating." I rub my temples and contemplate on what to do for the remainder of my day, since I was off and Tre doesn't get off until eight-thirty.

I decide to take a nap, to make the time pass by quicker, it was currently only four thirty so, hopefully I can stay sleep for a while. I ascend up the stairs, jump into my bed and doze off not too long after.

Four hours later..

I finally wake up, looking over at my clock, seeing that it's fifteen minutes after eight. I get out of bed and head to my bathroom to take a shower.

Once I'm done, I get dressed in a tank top and shorts and head downstairs to make dinner. I put on some music so that I didn't feel completely alone.

Jazmine Sullivan's 'Excuse Me' blasted through the living room as I finish the food. The music was up so loud, I didn't hear the front door open and close. It wasn't until Tre cleared his throat, that I was aware of his presence.

I grab my phone and turn the music down some, turning around to greet him. "Hey, baby."

"Hey, babygirl."

He comes up behind me and snakes his arms around my waist. I giggle as his beard tickles my neck, "I missed you, beautiful." He said, making me blush.

"I missed you too, handsome." I put the plates down and turn to face him, cupping his face and kissing his lips.

Tre grips my hips gently and deepens the kiss. "Baby, are you hungry?" I ask, pulling away from his lips.

"For you." A glint of lust exposes itself in his irises, making the seat of my shorts incredibly wet.

He picks me up and heads into the living room, tossing me onto the sofa. His lips attack mine again, taking my breath away.

"But, baby— I made you dinner." He pulls his jacket over his head and tosses it on the coffee table.

"I appreciate it.... but, I'm tryna eat you right now." His lips find my neck, pulling whimpers from my lips.

I let his rough hands roam my body and bite my lip, gripping his shoulders from the feeling. "I want you in the worst way."

Beginning to toy with the wet spot on my shorts, I arch away from the couch and tighten my grip on his arm. "Don't tease me, baby."

His orbs bore back into mine, while he removes the soaked fabric away from my hips, allowing my glistening folds to come into view.

"Mm, no panties." He drags his index finger up and down my slit, covering it in my nectar. My hips buck from the sensation.

He winks at me, before covering my clit with butterfly kisses. I groan and run my hand over his low fade. His tongue slips into the mix, wrapping around my bud.

"Oou fuck," spreading my legs a little wider, his heavy hands rest on my thighs while he slides his tongue from my tight cove up to my clit, over and over again.

"Yessss," my mouth drops open, letting whimpers and moans run free. I lift my shirt up and squeeze my breasts, adding to the pleasure.

"Feels so good, babyyy!" His lashing grows wild, causing me to lift up and grip the back of his head. He moans against me, sending shocks through my body.

"Just like that, baby...." lifting a hand up to my neck, he squeezes it and continues to devour me.

"I'm gonna cum," I push at his shoulders and arch away from the sofa. His tongue holds my clit hostage, continuously sucking.

"Ohhh fuck! Yesss, just like that!" I grip his head and grind against his lips, jerking through my orgasm.

Moving away from me, he stands up and strips. I lick my lips and stare his very noticeable print.

"It ain't polite to stare, shawty." He smacks my thigh before pushing them back open, sliding back between them.

"Well... it's mine, so I can do what I want with it." His eyebrows raise in amusement. I smirk and tuck my fingers into his briefs and tug them down, feeling his length spring out and touch my thigh.

Wasting no time to slide into me, he places his forehead against mine, watching my face scrunch up from his sudden, but sinful intrusion.

He groans as my walls throb around him. "How long has it been, babe?" He begins to move slowly.

"I — I don't know... too long." I place my hands on his chest and match his movements. He speeds up.

"Sounds like we got some catching up to do, then." He presses his lips against mine and grips the back of my thighs.

I moan into his mouth. He wraps a hand around my neck, making me drip onto him. He pulls away from my lips and bites down on his bottom one, staring down below and watching us become one with each other.

"Sss— feels so good, Tre!" I toss my head back into the pillows and wrap my hand around his wrist. He begins to roll his hips into me, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

"Fuck! Just like that— mm!" I reach between us and rub my clit in small circles, adding to the intense pleasure that I'm receiving.

His constant grunts and my moans mix together like a melody. His eyes flicker up to mine, staring straight through me.

"Just like this, huh?" My mouth forms into a permanent 'o' shape. A smug grin appears on his lips as he moves faster.

"Tre..." my eyes fall into the back of my head as he comes in contact with my spot, rubbing against it deliciously. My free hand scratches his chest.

"Wassup mama?" My thighs begin to quiver. I try and close them, but he pries them back open.

"Unh! I'm cummm— I'm cumming!" My back arches away from the couch as I rain down on him. I try and scoot away, but he follows and pins me to the cushion.

"You tryna run away from me?" He licks his lips and glares down at me. Still coming down from my orgasmic high, I search words that my mouth can't form.

Tre smirks before pulling me up from the couch and carrying me to our room, tossing me onto the bed.

"On your knees, babygirl." I get on my knees and arch my back, sticking my ass high in the air. His hand comes down it, sending a stinging sensation through me, but also making me wet.

He pulls me to the edge of the bed and glides back into me, picking up where he left off; slamming into me.

I grip the sheets into my hands, while his hand finds my neck again, squeezing harder. I scream out, feeling him immediately curve to my spot.

"Ohhh shit!" He leans down and presses his body into mine, keeping the same crazed pace.

"Too much? Huh? You want me to stop?" His husky tone makes me clench around him.

"No! Keep.... keep going!" Diving deeper into me, he begins thrusting into me so hard it makes my brain rattle around a little.

"Fuuuuuck! Oh my God, babyyy!" My body starts jerking from how rough he's being, sending me into a different realm of pleasure.

"Feels good?" His voice booms from behind me. I frantically nod, unable to speak through my moaning fit.

"Shhhh—" his heavy hand cracks down on my ass again... and again... and again.

"Answer me, baby." I reach back and grab his hip, pulling him as close to me as humanly possible. My eyes roll back.

"Yesss! It feels so damn good..... so damn good...." I hunch forward and dig my nails into his skin as another orgasm rips through me, this one much more intense than the last.

"Fuck... you love me?" He pulls me against his chest, pressing wet kisses on my neck. I heave a euphoric sigh.

"Mmm... you know I do."

"I wanna hear you say it... tell me you love me." His heavy, slow thrusts drive me up a wall.

"I— I love you... oh my goodness! I love youuu!" I reach back and caress the side of his face, while he continues to attack my neck.

"I love you, too— shit.... you feel so good, babygirl." My body shakes as another knot forms inside of me, his words only intensify the feeling.

"I'm gonna cum.... I'm gonna cum so hard!" My body convulses as jolts of pleasure start at the top of my head and travel all the way to my toes.

"Ohhh fuck— h-oh fuck—" I grip the sheets in front of me and let out a broken yelp that replays itself, until my throat goes dry.

Tre stiffens behind me and fills me with his warmth. He growls into my neck and pulls me closer to him.

"Shit.... we ain't went at it like that in a minute." Ending our connection, I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling. He crawls on top of me and lays his head on my chest.

"I know. We both needed that, huh?" A smirk makes its way onto my lips. He picks his head up and mimics my expression.

"Hell yeah! Fuck dinner, I'm immobile for the rest of the night."

"Ah shit! I put it down, huh?" I roll my eyes.

"You know you did, babe. I ain't have to tell you that." He chuckles, placing kisses on my left collarbone.

"I like when you say it, though."

"Hush, before you get me started again."

If you wanna be tagged, let me know!

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @ghostfacekill-monger @blowmymbackout @supersizemeplz @blktinkerbell @l-auteuse @smuttywriter

[jasonndeans]

strange love - shane “dio” morrissey x reader

word count: 3,986

chapters: one shot

summary: porn with plot...barely. dio is feeling moody, reader is feeling needy. sexy shenanigans ensue.

warnings: knife/blood play, slight degradation, worship, blowjobs, vaginal fingering. if i missed any, let me know!

Dio’s signature trench coat consumed you in its cracked leather leaving you drowning in it -- the pungent scent of cigarettes seemed to be sewn into the fabric, though you didn’t mind; the sleeves hanging well past your fingers and its length causing some nearly fatal falls. That is, only to your dignity. You had to hike the hem of it up like a ballgown to walk around. Usually, Dio got a kick out of this. He’d snicker to himself, allow his softer side to peek through the cracks as he muttered into your hair: “Looks better on you than it does on me, birdie.” It always made your heart flutter.

Tonight, however, he’s not sparing you a passing glance. No, his eyes and mind are someplace else entirely, brooding away under a proverbial thunder cloud beside you on the couch. He gets like this at times, lost in his own world of grandeur. Any other time you’d leave him be, pry a penny for his thoughts. But as of right now...you’d rather his attention be squarely on you.

“Dio,” you call to your zombified boyfriend. Turning to face him, you gauge no reaction and pout to yourself. You try nudging his foot with yours, perching your chin atop his shoulder and whip out the puppy dog eyes. “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”

Finally, he stirs with a sigh, near obsidian eyes catching yours. “Not right now, birdie, ‘m preoccupied.” The hand he rests on your knee as comfort isn’t enough, though. It places an ache in the hollow of your chest when he gets like this, always so engulfed in these dangerous thoughts and ideas about a fresh, new world free of so-called “drones” and their robotic habits. He means well, in his own skewed way. Hell, part of you almost admires it, finds it attractive to see this power hungry leader in him…

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you eye his open palm at your thigh. You won’t be quitting so easily.

Lips stretch into an impish grin when you lean in further to brush them against the exposed skin of Dio’s neck. “Need a distraction, hm?” His pulse speeds up a little at your gentle ministrations, lined eyes slipping shut. Ah-ha. More kisses slowly meet the warmth of his throat. A soft groan of defeat meets your ears, stirring something deep inside you.

“Mmm, not tonight.” He says at last. The rasp in his voice would make you weak at the knees if you were standing. His thumb begins to trace circles onto your thigh in spite of himself and it causes your heart to mimic the stuttered beat of his own.

Victorious, you smile into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, moving your lips to his ear. “Shane…” you whine.

Dio brings his thumb to a stop, fingers clamping down around your lower thigh. For a moment, your heartbeat pauses, too. You’re met with those piercing eyes that bore into yours, tanned features stony.

“The fuck did you just call me?”

He heard you just fine, you know that. It’s a challenge; you’ve prodded a little too hard. He wants an answer and he wants one now.

Thickly, you swallow the anticipation building in your throat and breathe: “Shane.”

All is quiet then except for your now heavy breathing. Dio’s gone still as a statue for a moment or two. You don’t dare to move, even when he does; rising from his seat your gazes remain locked. His touch has left you but even so you feel a phantom grip...or is that just future bruising?

Raven black hair casts a shadow over his eyes in the dim lighting of your apartment. It makes him look that much more intimidating as he towers over you. “Stand up.” He orders. Your jaw goes slack and you’re a little slow in doing so, because he has to repeat himself. Louder this time. “Stand. Up.”

You jump up like a loaded spring, feeling so much smaller than you normally would when his coat swallows you whole. That won’t be a concern for long, it seems, because Dio’s next command is for you to--

“Take it off.”

No time wasted there. You hurriedly slip black leather from your shoulders and toss it aside which seems to please him. He’s smiling darkly and fuck, it’s so hot.

“Atta girl,” Praise is sweet like honey rolling off his tongue, sending your heartbeat skyrocketing. You fear he can hear its rhythmic thrum as he saunters closer to where you stand, awkwardly awaiting him. He’s mere inches from you now and the gentle graze of his hand along your neck, up to your jaw shoots shivers down each one of your vertebrae with a hissing intake of breath. From Dio, only a curt chuckle. He comes in closer still, strong nose drawing a line from your cheek all the way up to your temple as hot breath heats your face. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, birdie, y’know that?

You say nothing at all. God, you just want him to kiss you. Kiss you hard and hot with his knee between your legs and--

A soft flick slices the silence. Then comes a glint of light. He’s taken out his switchblade. Your eyes follow it much to Dio’s amusement and you swear the closer it comes, the louder your pulse becomes. Its point pokes at your jawline, eliciting a sharp gasp. Dio sneers at your reaction. The bastard. He applies pressure -- not enough to break skin but just enough to get his point across. It moves down across your neck, follows the curvature of your collarbone…

“Bet you’d be even prettier with my name carved into your skin, hm? That way you won’t forget it…” His knife stops at the neckline of your shirt. That made your breath snag in your throat, eyes growing wide. It sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time he’d suggested something so...dissenting to say the very least. You got high off of the rush of being with him; on the run, hand in hand, just the two of you in a parallel world of your own where glares and expectations didn’t mean a damn thing. You were fearless at his side, proud to be the one and only person in this world he so detested he trusted to bring it down with him.

Chest heaving, you nod. Dio flashes a wicked grin and in one swift movement, slices your shirt open one button at a time until you’re exposed to the air, raising goosebumps on your torso. A large hand at your waist, you hear your boyfriend mumble “Fuck it,” as he pockets his blade and pulls you to him, mouths colliding. His free hand dives into your hair and you groan into his hungry lips, each kiss more fervent than the last. You trail your hands down the expanse of his chest and start to tug at his shirt. His skin is hot and smooth to the touch — you want to feel him flush to you, skin to skin, sweat mingling. You revel in feeling his firm torso as he does yours, fingers slipping beneath your open shirt while the cool metal of his rings shock you with chills. Dio damn near rips it from you, and to be honest he might as well now that it’s been rendered useless. Onto the floor it goes. You’re eager for his to join it, roaming higher up and looking for permission with your tongue to deepen your kiss when your wrists are grabbed and your lip is between his teeth.

You’re both breathing like you’ve run a marathon. He’s hardly done anything to you and already you feel a familiar heat begin to bloom where you need him most. He’s staring at you with such a hunger it’s hard to control yourself.

You part your lips to beg, “Di—“

He’s taken your flushed cheeks into his hands, running a thumb along your lower lip. “Shh, shh, shhh…” A laugh sounds in his chest when again, you impatiently tug at his shirt, and shakes his head. “Not yet, birdie.”

Your eyes close as he leans in, bites at your earlobe, wraps a hand around your throat. Christ, his voice alone can soak you, but this…?

“You’re gonna get on your fuckin’ knees...and youre gonna worship me.” Those words are breathed hotly into your ear and you nearly collapse then and there. He’s so close you can feel the growing bulge in his pants poking at you. Dio squeezes your neck — just a bit — and pulls you from your thoughts. “Do I gotta repeat myself?”

You hold his gaze like it’s fucking magnetic and quickly nod.

“Good.”

And he shoves you to your knees.

You busy yourself with undoing his studded belt and ridding him of his dark jeans and boxers. His cock stands tall, presenting his Prince Albert piercing proudly. You take him in your hands and feel him twitch in your grasp, working up his shaft slowly and kissing the underside, licking a stripe up to the head. He growls deliciously from above you and weaves needy fingers into your hair, a wordless hurry up. You place a kiss at the tip and rub your thumb over its opening. Suddenly, he knots his digits into your hair and tugs. You only wince and give him a squeeze at the base before taking his length into your mouth, tasting him, hot and salty against your tongue, then in your throat as he thrust in with a snap of his hips, causing you to gag. You begin to suck him off, taking your time, raking your tongue along the underside. Dio’s throaty groans fuel the fire already burning between your legs, driving your desire to drag them out of him.

“Fuck, baby, shit — you’re so good…fuckin’ suck me dry...”

Your hands grip his thighs, nails creating half moons as they dig into his skin, his grip in your hair making your scalp burn and you moan around his cock. Your tongue runs along a particular vein when you remove your lips, pulling it away and ever so slightly grazing your teeth there. Dio tugs tighter in time with a beautiful stuttered sound of approval that dampens your underwear even further. You yearn so badly for some form of contact there to ease that primal ache, hand moving downward between your legs. He’s far too lost in his own pleasure to realize, right?

Wrong.

Those fingers untangle themselves from your mess of hair and wrap around your jaw with force, jerking your attention upwards, lips and chin glistening with your own spit.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His chiding takes a dangerous tone that makes your blood icy and your growing need hotter. “Make me cum with that mouth of yours ‘n I’ll think about giving you what you want.” A light slap lands on your cheek as your cue to continue.

Again, you take him right down to the hilt, nose nestled in dark curls as you moan around the most sensitive part of him. Dio rolls his hips deliciously into the heat of your mouth, giving you hardly any time to relax your throat. You’re given no choice but to find your rhythm and find it fast while your throat is fucked with such a vigor. Your nipples are growing harder and your pussy wetter by the minute, breathing raggedly through your nose and it doesn’t help with the filthy obscurities spilling from your boyfriend’s mouth:

“Ah, shit, baby, that’s it — that’s it...fuck! Pretty little mouth feels so fuckin’ good…! Mm—“ He rambles on like that for a few minutes more, you don’t think you can take the persistent urge in your abdomen much longer.

Dio takes another painful fistful of your hair, thrusts becoming erratic until coming to a sudden stop as relief finds him and shoots down your throat, flooding your tongue with the taste of him. “Fuuuuck,” rumbles from his chest, fingers loosening. “Good…that’s my good girl.”

You swallow what you can, though stray drops leave your lips and dribble down your chin when you pull away. Your hand raises to wipe it clean when it’s caught by a larger one adorned with rings. Dio pulls you from your knees and tugs you into him with a satisfied smirk and swipes his thumb across your chin, collecting his cum and pushing it past your swollen lips. You get the message and wrap them around it, swirl your tongue to clean it all.

Gently, he cups your face with that same hand as though he hadn’t just fucked your face breathless and holds your stare. His eyes have taken on a much warmer hue, one that reminds you of molten dark chocolate. “Hey,” he murmurs. You feel the hand at the small of your back travel up your spine and unclasp your bra. The straps fall from your shoulders and Dio tosses it behind him carelessly. It’s not the first time you’ve been exposed to him this way, but you can’t help but feel heat in your cheeks (among other areas) with the way those attentive eyes devour your half naked frame. His lips press firmly against yours, tongue delving into your mouth to taste himself. You mewl against him and reach to tug him closer still but to your dismay, he’s retreated. “Go ahead ‘n lay down for me, birdie.”

What choice do you have other than to oblige?

Still dressed in your jeans and underwear, you find your way to your couch and lay back longways, feeling bashful as you awkwardly strike what’s meant to be a sexy pose. Dio chuckles at this, clearly endeared, but even clearer are his intentions for you. He hasn’t forgotten the promise he’d made, retrieving his switch. You swallow to see him towering over you and moisten your cotton-filled throat at the sight of him now tugging off his thread-worn shirt. God, he was pretty. The many scars strewn about his torso always did remind you of incomplete constellations, waiting to be connected by your tender touch, dotted with kisses. You’re about to complain about your current state of dress when he leans over you, chains dangling, to do away with your pants with a rough tug, taking your underwear down with them. You’re embarrassed at the gasp this causes until you’re face to face with Dio again, his weight on his palms resting beside your arms, knees on either side of your leg with one in between.

“Now, let’s see…” He drawls, knife glinting in low light as it’s brought down to the tendons in your neck. No pressure, but the touch of it alone in your skin is enough to send a current racing through you. His eyes admire the view of you as they search, tongue swiping across his lips and settles on a spot above your left breast. “…Here?” A kiss lands there and you’re sure he felt your heart leap. You make a small noise in your throat. “What was that?”

The way he looks up at you through dark lashes makes you melt. You can only nod. His smile in return is wicked.

Dio adds pressure to the point of the blade and drags it down, creating a crisp line of crimson. You suck in a breath when the pain hits, dragging his gaze up to you to confirm you’re alright. You give yourself a moment and nod again, toying with the hairs at the nape of his neck to prod him along. So he continues, completing the first letter and allowing you a break after each one. It stings, but it hurts so good and goddammit you love the idea of being marked by him as much as he does. His tongue laps at the drops of blood flowing down your breast, his cock erect and twitching as he relishes in the metallic taste. He then circles your nipple, flicks it with the tip of his tongue and takes it between skilled lips and sucks lightly. You whine and press your head back against the arm of the couch, slicker still in your sensitive folds as he expertly teases you. He massages the one left unattended with warm fingers, tweaking the bud between his index finger and thumb. Your fingernails scratch behind his neck and he hums at the sensation, drawing one from you, too, in harmony.

He pulls back, kissing your lips this time, accepting your tongue when you offer it. The taste of your blood still resides and it turns you on even more (as if that were possible). Your arms encircle him, locked lips and lingering blood making your mind hazy, calves hooking around his waist. You want him as close as humanly possible. You need him. He knows what he does to you and he fucking loves it. No matter how much you whine, so do you.

“Aw,” huffs Dio, his fringe tickling your forehead. “You a little needy, sweetheart?”

You push your lip out at him, deflating and he laughs. The rare sound of it makes your stomach flip. In response, you move your hips against him, desperate for any kind of friction there.

Dio flips his switchblade closed and with it still in hand, lowers it, pressing the handle into your clit in tiny circles.

Surprised, you cry out with eyes screwed shut, your back creating an arch, breasts pressing against the firmness of your boyfriend’s chest. “Ohh…” you whimper pathetically. “Dio.” To which he chuckles and cruelly stops the movement to do away with the weapon. You want to beg him again, you know damn well that’s what he wants to hear, but his fingers dip back down and one sinks into you. “Oh!” You could cry at how good that felt, grabbing his shoulder blades and burying your face into his neck.

“Oh, birdie,” he croons, moving his finger out and then back in, then again. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, aren’t you?” In contrast with the tone he’s taken, Dio’s hand moves harsher now, his palm coming into contact with your clit every time he enters you knuckle-deep, slow but shallow. He groans appreciatively as his hand becomes slick and nips at your neck. You swear your grip on him could draw blood; you nearly sob as he fingers you so fucking good, feeding what’s been stirring inside you for what feels like ages now. “I know, baby, I know…” There’s a pause, but only for a moment, so he can add a second and curls the two; the pads of his fingers strike a spot inside you akin to lighting a fuse. He picks up the pace now, sharp jaw of his taut in focus. Until now, you’ve been so deprived, that red hot ball of pressure has gone white — you’re going to snap, you’re going to…

He stops. That bastard, he stops. Right when you’re at the edge. You whimper up at him to see the same fingers in his mouth, tasting you as you had him.

“Mmm…” He hums, making your cheeks heat up, moving to hover above you. Your noses brush, broad hands once again exploring your body — soon to be scars of his name — and he kisses you again. And again. And again.

“Baby,” you manage between kisses, pulling him nearer behind his neck. “Please.”

Dio stops at your throat, wrapping fingers around it with a harsh squeeze. “Say it.” It’s a demand, not a request. He lowers his tone to a low whisper, “I want…to hear how you want me to fuck you. Tell me.”

Your breaths have gone uneven again, shallow with his hand around your neck. “Dio—I-I want you to…please make me cum.” Dizzy. Your vision’s a blur of red and pure lust.

He only grips harder. “You want me to fuck you so fuckin’ hard you remember my name like the slut you are, hm? That what you wanted all along?”

You squeak out your response, practically writing: “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

His lips quirk and he takes a moment to properly align himself, pressing the head in slowly, sweetly in a hiss of breath when he’s fully sheathed.

The noise you make is shameless, only to be cut off when Dio enters you again with his fingers around your windpipe, free hand tangled with yours. His movements are rough and quick and just what you wanted. His cock fills you perfectly, deliciously despite the crass sounds filling your small apartment.

“You look so. Fucking. Good like this for me, birdie,” His thrusts punctuate each word, hips meeting yours every time as he fills you up fully, muscles in his arm flexing. “Got my name on you so everyone can see you’re mine,” he growls. “You love my hand around your throat, sweetheart, I know you do…so pretty…so fuckin’ pretty for me…” He’s glowing with a thin layer of sweat and looking so beautiful as he fucks you into the cushions, hair in his eyes that never once leave yours. The pain etched onto your chest, the pleasure and pressure building, all for him, all because of him. You can’t get enough and you don’t know if you ever will.

“Dio, I-I want to…ah! K-kiss you…”

He leans into the pull of your hand behind his neck, abandoning your hand to haul you flush to him. You grip his shoulders and he kisses you hotly with an open mouth, swallowing your sounds as you do his; they’re addictive to taste, to hear — knowing he wants to give himself all to you, too. Rebuild a world with you. Dio turns your head to the side, hissing into your ear: “Turn around.”

So you do, him inside you as you maneuver onto your knees. Dio’s hand doesn’t leave your neck, his chest to your back and hips snapping back into motion, smacking your ass as he fucks you mercilessly. His words form between clenched teeth and animalistic growls, able to now bite and suck at your neck at this angle. Now, his cock is able to hit just where you need it to. Your mouth is agape and when his fingers again find your clit you’re unable to hide your sob.

“D-Dio—! God, I’m going to—!”

They leave that bundle of nerves as quick as they’d found it, instead cracking his open palm against your ass. “What was that, baby? Hm?” His fingers are for sure leaving bruises at your neck.

Your moan is loud though it strains from the pressure and he fucking revels in feeling the vibrations. “Ah, fuck, Dio I’m gonna c-cum! Please, please, baby…!” Roughly, he runs circles into your clit. That’s what pushes you over the edge and you scream what he’s wanted you to all along. “Dio!” Your orgasm shakes you as you come undone around him; his arms hold you up and he fucks you through it. You’re an incoherent mess, oversensitive, dazed and then Dio follows suit with a strangled groan of your name.

His hand falls and the two of you linger in the moment, breathing each other’s scent. Dio peppers your neck and shoulder with kisses and lays you down over him, couch cushions sinking beneath your combined weight. You feel languid and heavy and at peace all at once, hearing Dio’s heartbeat as you lay there perfectly content on his chest, a mess of tangled limbs and hips fitting together like a puzzle. His lips are at your forehead, fingers drawing patterns on your bare back. You’re about to fall asleep when…

“Birdie,”

“Hm…?”

“We oughta patch that up, don’t you think?”

“Huh?” Your eyes fall to where his name now sits on your breast. “Oh…” You chuckle lazily.

So does he.

“Looks good on you.”

[patriciasage]

imposter syndrome

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Summary:

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

posted in full below the break but you can find me on A03!

There’s a knock on his door.

Duck nearly trips over Lucy on his way to answer it. She makes a grumbly little meow, and he grumbles right back at her as he regains his balance. “Dammit, Luce.” She scurries to the bedroom when he unlatches the door.

Standing on his front step is Indrid Cold. He’s wearing his regular outfit of jeans and a tank top, and he’s shivering a little in the spring air. “Hello, Duck Newton,” he says with an unnerving smile.

Duck grins back. “Indrid! God, it’s good to see you. I was- Hell, I was worried about you.”

Indrid adjusts his glasses and rubs his arm, flustered. Duck looks up at him and tries not to think about how cute he is. They don’t have time for that. “Come in.”

When Duck turns around, Indrid has closed the door and moved close into Duck’s space. “Oh, um, listen, Indrid,” Duck says, trying to stop the blush in his cheeks at the proximity. “I’m real sorry for, y’know, punchin’ you in the face…”

“All is forgiven, Duck,” Indrid replies with a smile. “You saved my life.”

Duck tries to keep his eyes forward, staring at Indrid’s chin, because whenever he looks up at the other man all he can think about is kissing him.  They had spent a significant amount of time together during the last hunt and, although the Silf is a little strange, Duck knows flirting when he sees it. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of someone’s interest like this often, and it was a bit of a thrill to flirt back and let the Winnebago settle with a warm, mutual attraction. But they don’t have time for that right now.

“Listen, man, a lot has happened since you flew away. We got an abomination on the loose that’s real smart and real scary; it can –”

Indrid interrupts him. “I know.”

“Right. ‘Course, you do.” Duck chances a glance up at the other man and sees his own flustered, red reflection staring back at him. “It’s a little fucked up, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how we’re gonna –”

“Duck.” The ranger jumps when Indrid places a cold hand on the back of his neck. “I missed you.”

“Well, yeah, I- uh,” Duck stutters, “I missed…missed you, too.” The taller man smiles. “But Indrid, we need to –”

And then Indrid kisses him.

Duck kisses back without thinking. It’s been a while since he’s had any romantic contact, but he’s been daydreaming about this for quite a few months and insecurity doesn’t have the chance to take purchase. He places his hands on Indrid’s narrow hips and the other man hums before burying his hands in Duck’s hair. Indrid kisses him like he’s trying to consume him. Duck stumbles back a little at the ferocity and breaks for a breath.

“Woah. Yeah, alright. Right. I mean, this is… I been wantin’ this for a while.”

Indrid grins. “I know.”

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

The three of them stare at each other for a stunned moment. Duck’s brain rushes to make sense of the situation – the paradoxical presence of the man whose hips he’s holding and the hulking, unsettling monster standing on shattered glass in the carpet. “What the fuck?”

Duck takes a step back out of Indrid’s embrace. The uncertainty in his chest becomes drenched in horror as he understands. But he doesn’t have the time to react. Everyone moves at once.

Indrid’s left hand morphs and turns into a sharp, flesh-coloured blade. The Mothman charges forward, knocking some model ships off of nearby shelves with his wings. Duck twists and falls back onto his couch in an attempt to escape.

Duck feels a burning pain in his side and his back hits the cushions. The Mothman crashes into Indrid and they both fall onto the coffee table. It breaks under their weight. Duck scrambles to grab Beacon at his belt, but the movement makes his side flare up and he lets out a shout. The Mothman’s huge red eyes meet his, but this gives the creature underneath it an opportunity. The abomination, its skin shifting as it struggles to maintain Indrid’s form, pushes up into the Mothman’s furry chest with ferocity. The Mothman lands on its wings with a grunt.

Even with its bestial facial features, Duck can tell the Mothman is surprised at the abomination’s strength and speed. The abomination is escaping out the broken window before Duck can draw his sword and before the Mothman can right itself.

They’re frozen for a moment, trapped in the sudden silence. Duck reaches across his body and places his hand on his right side. There’s warm blood soaking into his shirt and the fabric of his couch. “Fuck.” He grimaces. He breathes through the pain before looking back at the looming, dark creature shaking out its wings. “Indrid?”

The Mothman nods vigorously. “Yes!” It reaches a clawed hand into a pouch hanging off of a belt at its waist and retrieves a pair of large, red sunglasses. It quickly puts them on and the huge form of the Mothman turns into Indrid Cold. He’s wearing faded jeans, a bulky sweater, and an expression of guilty concern. “I’m so sorry, Duck. I flew as fast as I could.” He rushes forward and his hands flutter from Duck’s cheek to his shoulder and then a few inches over the wound on his ribs.

“Your hair’s longer,” Duck says.

Indrid’s hands stop moving and he just looks at him for a moment. “Yeah.”

Duck swallows, mouth dry. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks, Duck. Listen, you’re bleeding all over your fucking couch. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?” Duck teases.

Indrid shakes his head in frustration, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He gently moves a strand of Duck’s hair behind his ear. “You know it doesn’t work like that.” He stands up and rushes to the ensuite bathroom. Duck smiles when he hears him say hello to Lucy before rifling through the cupboard.

“Then how come you found it without me telling you?” He calls out.

“I don’t have time for your shit, Duck Newton. I looked into the possible futures where you weren’t being difficult and just told me where it was!” This is, without a doubt, the real Indrid Cold. Talking to him feels natural, like it did months ago, not the strange, charged conversation with the imposter a few minutes ago. Even though he’s in a lot of pain and he’s going to have to replace his couch and his window, Duck feels calm and happy. And he might be going into shock…just a little bit.

Indrid returns with the first aid kit in his hands and a towel under his arm. “This isn’t really my area of expertise, so you’re going to have to assist me a little,” he admits. He nudges some pieces of wood away with his foot before kneeling on the carpet in between Duck’s knees. He places the items down on the couch and gestures. “Take your shirt off, please.”

Duck can’t help but blush at the sight of Indrid on his knees in front of him. He reaches for the hem of his shirt and raises it a bit before the pain of the movement stops him. He lets out a strangled cry at the same time that Indrid’s cold hands grasp his wrists. “Sorry! Sorry, Duck. I should be paying more attention. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. Here.” Indrid begins to lift the hem before he stops, eyebrows furrowed. Instead, he reaches for the first aid kit.

Duck gives him a questioning look when he lifts a pair of fabric scissors. “Really?”

Indrid shrugs. “It’s going to hurt you to lift your arms.” He pauses, watching Duck’s face carefully. “Is this okay, Duck? Tell me how I can make you more comfortable.” Duck feels a warmth in his chest. This is the considerate Indrid he knows.

“Yeah, ‘s’fine, go ahead.” Duck feels his face heat even more, this time from embarrassment, as Indrid carefully cuts through his T-shirt and pulls the fabric away from his body. Indrid, usually perpetually distracted, is intensely focused on the task. Duck can’t stop thinking about how his position – slumped on the couch cushions – doesn’t do his body any favours. He knows that Indrid is focused on the bleeding wound on his side, not his stomach curling over his belt, but it doesn’t stop Duck from closing his eyes.

“Duck?” Indrid is looking at his face now. “What do I do now?”

“Right.” Duck takes a breath and harshly reminds himself that he’s forty-two, not fourteen. Still, he grits his teeth and attempts to straighten his posture. He gets a good look at the wound for the first time. It’s bleeding a lot but it’s not too deep. The abomination had obviously intended to stab him in the stomach, but Duck had twisted away, causing the weapon to slice a horizontal line through the skin over his ribs. “God, that was a close call, wasn’t it?”

Indrid doesn’t respond. Duck places the folded hand towel over the wound and presses down. When he turns back to his companion, Indrid is staring at the center of his chest. His lips are pressed into a thin line and he’s breathing hard. “Indrid?”

“It was a close call, Duck Newton.” He harshly wipes his eyes under the glasses. “There were so many futures where I wasn’t fast enough, and I watched it impale you. There were so many futures where I didn’t come at all and it killed you in other, horrible ways. And it killed you wearing my face, Duck –”

Duck leans forward, even though it hurts, and places his free hand on Indrid’s shoulder. “Hey, woah, slow down, man. You made it. I’m alright.”

Suddenly, Indrid looks furious. “And it kissed you.”

For a second, Duck feels a surge of shame, but he pushes it away. The abomination obviously has access to memories that give it accuracy in appearance and behaviour. He couldn’t have known. “I’m, uh…yeah. That musta been weird for you to see.”

“Yeah, it was weird, Duck.” Indrid’s hands tighten on Duck’s knees, seemingly without intention. “It was weird because I’ve wanted to kiss you for months. I think you’re the bravest, kindest, most handsome man I’ve ever met. And you kissed him back. You kissed him back because you also want to kiss me. And I’m so fucking mad that it took that from you – that it took that from me!”

Duck is stunned into silence. Indrid has always been a very honest man, but Duck wasn’t prepared for such an emotional confession and confirmation. He finds his voice. “I still want you to kiss me.”

“What?”

“It didn’t take anything, Indrid. I want you to kiss me. For real. The real you. I still want that.”

Indrid leans forward, bracketed by Duck’s legs. He places both hands on Duck’s stubbled cheeks. “Are you sure?”

Duck nods. “Yeah.”

Indrid kisses him with tenderness and care, almost reverence. If Duck had been standing, his knees would be weak. Indrid’s lips are slightly chapped. His thumb slowly caresses Duck’s cheekbone. The abomination had known a lot about Indrid Cold, but it got so many things wrong. It had kissed Duck like it wanted to consume him. Indrid kisses Duck like he’s giving himself over. He kisses Duck like he’s precious, like he wants to keep him safe.

Duck wants to pull him closer, hold onto his back, but in that moment he becomes aware of his own hand pressing a towel to the wound on his abdomen. Regretfully, and very slowly, he pulls away. “Let’s bandage me up and then we can keep doin’ this, alright?”

Indrid shakes himself. “Yes, of course. You’re hurt. What am I doing?”

“What I asked you to.” Duck replies, somehow both stern and coy. He’s satisfied when Indrid’s expression softens.

They patch him up well enough to stop the bleeding. Indrid retrieves a button-up shirt from the closet so that he doesn’t have to raise his arms. Duck catches him staring, eyes lingering appreciatively on his chest and stomach before they’re covered up by closed buttons. Duck blushes again, pleased.

This abomination is terrifying. It’s lodged itself in the heart of Kepler and Duck isn’t sure how they’re going to get it out without disturbing the peace. It feels like it’s a catalyst for something bigger, something they’re not ready for.

But Indrid’s back. And Indrid kissed him. And sometimes it’s alright to focus on a good thing for a moment.

[peaxhcringe]

Sunflower

pairing: Oikawa x Fem! Reader

genre: fluff, angst

warnings: n/a

word count: 2.5K

summary: Running out into the rain after an argument with Oikawa, only to end up in the park remembering the past. 

A/N: I once again apologize if this is bad, I am very tired and wanted to hurry up and get this out. Anyways enjoy!

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

You don’t know how it came to this. The rain hailing down against your shoulders soaking your already thin shirt, and with tears falling down your face. Your e/c eyes were closed tightly, the pounding of the rain and the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance filling your ears as you ran along the sidewalk, rain splashing up from small puddles to the bottom of your leggings soaking them. Your brain was fuzzy as your thoughts swirled like a whirlpool, everything becoming muddled together into indescribable pieces of memory. The wind blew harshly onto the exposed skin of your arms, goosebumps rising painfully onto your skin as you tried to rush for cover. The events of earlier were all jumbled, nothing making sense on how it came to this moreover what even caused this. 

A sigh of relief crossed over you as finally saw an escape from the hailing rain, rushing over to a nearby wooden canopy. The rain was so thick you couldn’t really tell where you were, almost not allowing you to see more than 6 feet in front of you. Just as you made it underneath the dry canopy a sigh of relief lef your mouth as you finally sat down on a bench, letting you catch your breath from running for so long. Your moment of relief is rudely cut short as you hear  the voice of the last person you want see fill your ears 

“Y/n!” 

“God damnit Y/n, I’m sorry!”

“Y/n just come back before you get sick!” 

Tears threatened to fill your eyes as you took in his voice, hearing as it came closer to where you sat. Your body began to slowly shake as you took in the soaked clothes that rested against your skin.   

“Y/n Whe- Y/n! there you are!” Oikawa’s voice rang in your ears, making your head shot up to see his drenched figure, his hair falling into his face as the rain poured down on him just as hard 

“Go away” You said, not bothering to make eye contact with him “Just leave me alone, and go back to your ‘studying’” You continued, crossing your arms, letting your head rest back against the wall of canopy 

Without another word Oikawa silently made his way over to you, sitting down next to you on the bench, letting his hands rest in his lap. There was silence between the both of you as neither of you wanted to be the first to speak, the tension growing thicker the silence lasted. A small chuckled filled the silence, a scowl crossing your face as you heard the laugh, your head quickly turning an staring at the brown haired man 

“What the hell are you laughing at?!” You growled, glaring at him, your hands turning into fist as you took in his appearance further. 

His head was tilted upwards towards the sky, his brown eyes closed, as he took in a deep breath. A simple smile was etched into his face, as a soft breeze blew letting a couple strands of his semi-dried hair dance around, a couple pieces just grazing against his forehead. If you were being honest with yourself, although he was a dick his side profile was rather breathtaking. Even though the tension between you two was quite heavy, his posture was amazingly relaxed, his chest rising and falling like normal and his hands resting casually against the bench as he leaned back onto the wall of the canopy. The more you took in his stance the angrier you got with him, not knowing how or why he was so calm after everything that happened. 

“Do you know where we are?” He asks simply, breaking the thick silence, not moving an inch as he took in a deep breath of the rainy atmosphere

Your eyebrows raised in my confusion, lifting a hand about to hit him, as your mouth opened to scold him until he spoke again 

“Just take a good look around”

You closed your mouth, letting your raised hand fall into your lap as you turned your head and took in where you were. When you first arrived in this place your vision was blurred by the heavy rain and dark clouds, but now as the rain began to fall into a soft drizzle and the sky opened up to allow the sun to shine through you finally took in your surroundings. Beautiful dark green grass covered the landscape for miles, a simple sidewalk weaving its way past a field of trees, and the sun now shining, glowed upon a small patch of sunflowers that rested upon a nearby hill. 

Your body seemed to almost relax at the sight, watching as a couple birds flew past and landed in the grass searching for worms and things to build their nest for the upcoming spring. That was until you heard the man sitting next to you clear his throat, the anger that was finally leaving your body returned instantly, your blood beginning to boil once again 

“We’re in a park! So what?” You asked, turning your head back towards him, noticing how his head was now titled down towards you the sun shining down against his face 

“You really don’t remember?” He asks, a sense of hurt hidden within his voice 

Your eyes rake over his face, taking in his stoic expression trying your best to figure out what he meant. 

“Has it really been that long?” You hear him mumble to himself, his eyes taking a second to shift away from you and look down at the grass 

“Y/n” Oikawa begins, his gaze now repositioned back upon your figure, taking in your soaked clothes and how your body had begun to shake a little harder “This was the place where we had our first date” He said, letting his head turn from yours and fall back against the wall behind the both of you

As he finished his sentence everything seemed to click in your mind, a smile almost crossing your face as you took yet another slow look around confirming what he said, the memory of your first date with this jerk of a man flashing through your mind. 

“Tooru, why did you bring me here?” You ask with a small laugh, watching as the narcissistic team captain was pulling you along behind him, a child-like smile replacing his usual smirk 

You stumbled along behind him, trying your best to not fall from the speed he ran, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist as he ran ahead of you. 

“Just follow me, you’ll see, I know you’ll love it” He assured, turning his head and glancing behind him to look at you 

You don’t know how he was able to convince you to take a spur of the moment trip to the park, but somehow he did. You told him you had to study for a big exam coming up, but nothing seemed to persuade him to let you stay home. Usually this scenario would be the completely different way around as Oikawa would always be too busy with volleyball to even give you a second glance, but today something was off. 

Not long after school had let out and you made it home you had received a text from Oikawa telling you to get dressed and come outside, of course since you had to study you said ‘no’, but he didn’t take that as an answer. Within a minute you heard your front door open and footsteps shooting up to your room before the door was swung open, to reveal Oikawa standing tall in the door frame. After minutes of Oikawa begging you to come to the park with him you finally agreed, letting him take you away from your studies to go screw around at the park. 

“Wait” He yelled suddenly, making you run into his back

“Hey! You could’ve warned me you were gonna stop” You said, as you stepped back from him, rubbing your forehead after your forehead smacked against his shoulder 

As your hand left your face Oikawa quickly turned around and faced you, a smile on his face. As you looked around you noticed you were in the middle of a curve on the sidewalk, a bright vibrant sight hidden a little ways behind Oikawa. You stepped to the side a bit, trying to get a view of the sudden vibrant colors, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you 

“Ah ah ah” Oikawa tuted, waving his pointer finger at you “Turn around” He said with a smile, and twirling his finger with the way he wanted you to turn

A chuckle left your lips as you smiled at him, before turning your back facing him. The feeling of his calloused hands placing themselves above your eyes, the warmth of his breath against your ear sent a jolt of electricity through your body as he speaks 

“Now, no peeking little cutie” 

With nod, you feel as his slowly turns your body back around, anticipation flooding you. Oikawa was always a man of surprises, he almost always seemed to have something up his sleeve when you were around. Ever since you both started dating he constantly would surprise you with flowers or even his jerseys before games, although the jerseys were more of a ‘you’re mine’ type thing you managed to find it sort of sweet. 

“Can I open my eyes now?” You asked, with a smile, the anticipation eating you alive 

“Someone's eager” He spoke into your ear, a chill shooting through your spine as his breath tickled your neck, a soft chuckle leaving his lips “We’re almost there” He assured, as you walked further down the path

The sound of your footsteps and bird chirping lighty sounded around the both of you, sending a sense of calm through your body. 

“Alright, stop here” He spoke, slowly your down and making you stop right as there was a dip in the cement sidewalk 

“Well?” You ask impatiently as Oikawa’s hand didn’t move an inch from your eyes 

A small laugh left Oikawa, before he began to countdown from 3.  He removed his hands from your eyes slowly, a gasp leaving your mouth as you took in the sight before you. A gorgeous sunflower field, almost covering the entire section of the park, stood in front of you. The sun beaming down brightly on the equally bright flowers. 

“Tooru” You spoke softly, turning around to face your boyfriend “When did you find this?” You ask, letting your gaze go back to the field 

“Well, I found some time after practice one day and ended up here, I thought you’d like it” He answered, a smile spreading across his face as he took in your expression 

With a laugh, you turn from him and make your way towards the field. Just as you reach the flowers your glance over your shoulder to see Oikawa still standing in his spot 

“Well are you going to come over here or what?” You ask with a laugh, holding out your hand towards him watching as a smile crosses his face 

“Y-Yeah” He says, a blush crossing over his face as he quickly makes his way over to you and wraps one of his long arms around your waist 

“Shall we?”

Your heart lurches in your chest as the memory floods your mind, an odd sense of warmth filling your body.  You slowly lift your head up to face Oikawa, his eyes staring out towards the sunflower field not far from the both of you. You begin to think about what went wrong since then, what had made everything change only in a couple months.  Taking in a deep breath, the scent of fresh rain still hanging heavily in the air, you fully turn your body towards him. 

“Tooru” You begin softly, as your began to fiddle with your fingers that rested in your lap “I’m sorry for running out like” You apologize, watching as he turns his head towards you, a sympathetic look in his eyes  

There’s yet another moment of silence before he finally speaks, a sigh leaving his mouth. 

“No Y/n, I’m sorry for being like that. It isn’t your fault” He says, taking one of his hands and placing them on top of yours, ceasing the fiddling of your hands.

Your eyes met him just in time to notice his becoming glossy. Hesitantly, you reach a hand up towards his face as he turns from you,your soft hand cupping his cheek. A sense of guilt spreads through you as you notice tears starting to well in his eyes. Although he was the one who yelled at you and told you off for simply just trying to help every sense of anger you felt towards him began to fade. Without another word you scoot towards him, letting your legs cross over his lap as your arms wrap around his side, your head softly pressing against his shoulder. 

You feel him tense as you move around, unsure of what you were about to do, but the moment your breath brushes against his exposed skin from his skirt his body relaxes. The soft breathing coming from the both of you fills the air as neither of you move to speak, not knowing what to say. You hated how most arguments ended this way, with one of you holding the other, letting you both just sit in each other’s company as everything seemed to just resolve itself silently. 

Through the arguments you both have every now and then, and through the hard times you never fail to end up realizing how much you love the stubborn man in front of you. 

“Come on let’s go home” You say lifting you head off his shoulder and looking up into he brown eyes 

With a silent nod from Oikawa, you slowly move your legs off of his and stand in front of him, holding a hand out towards him waiting for him to stand in front of you. After what seemed like hours he finally stood, taking your hand in his and pulling you close to his side.  

“You’re not off the hook yet” You mentioned with a small chuckle, as you both start to walk home “I’m just cold and want to get warm” You continue, glancing up at him to see a small smile on his face 

“I’ll warm you up when we get home cutie” You hear him say, a smirk crossing his face as he looks down towards you, a sharp blush crossing you face instantly 

“Tooru!!” You yell in shock, slapping his arm as he ran ahead of you a bit a laugh escaping from him 

Your arms cross at you watching him turn his back to you, a laugh escaping from you a

“Wait for me!”  You yell to him, as you rush towards him, noticing how far he’s gotten from you

[fieryanmitsu]

A Steamy Morning | A3! (Tsumugi/Izumi) | 18+, NSFW

BECAUSE I’M STILL SCREAMING ABOUT ACT 3 TSUMUGI AND HE DESERVES MORE LOVE AND ATTENTION. And I am thirsty for more content for this precious angel…. Except he’s a devil now, so I guess I’ll just go straight down to hell with some long overdue Tsumugi smut. This one has been floating around in my drafts for a while and I finally had the motivation now to finish it up, haha!

This takes place during the “High Spirits at the Hot Spring!” event and is just… PWP... but it's fluffy! I’m not sorry, haha. You have been warned~

A STEAMY MORNING

CHARACTERS: Tsumugi Tsukioka, Izumi Tachibana

PAIRINGS: Tsumugi/Izumi

My fanfic masterpost: Here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu

WARNING: 18+ (NSFW, contains smut/explicit sexual descriptions and situations)

Tsumugi grunted as his eyes fluttered open. The room was still relatively dark and he couldn’t see much light from behind the curtain that covered the window. All around him were the sounds of deep breathing and snoring.

Wriggling his arms from under his blanket, he reached for his phone and squinted at the backlit screen. 5:02 a.m. It was rare for him to wake up so early naturally – he was notoriously not a morning person. However, he felt wide awake and didn’t think he could fall back asleep.

Rather than toss and turn in his futon and risk waking the others, Tsumugi decided that he may as well take advantage of the early hour and take a quiet solitary soak in the hot spring. While it had been fun to be with everyone last night, he was excited by the thought of enjoying some tranquil alone time in the open air. After all, it wasn’t every day that he got to stay at a hot spring inn.

Desperate to not wake up any of his roommates, he decided to only grab his towel – which was conveniently laying on top of his bag to dry from last night – and quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. It wasn’t until he was in the hallway that he realized he had forgotten to grab a pair of contacts or his glasses.

Though his vision wasn’t terrible, the slight fuzziness that his lack of eyewear caused made him pause and consider if he should return inside. But, if he started fumbling in his bag, he would surely wake someone up. Deciding to take his chances, he set off down the hall towards the stairs and began making his way to the hot spring based on his memories from last night. A few minutes later, he saw the familiar doors leading to the changerooms. He was proud of himself that he had made it there without needing to squint at any of the signs.

Stepping inside, he noted that there was only one other pair of sandals at the entrance and hummed happily at his good luck that he wouldn’t have to share the hot spring with many others. Quickly stripping off his yukata, Tsumugi stepped into the shower room and washed himself off before he took a brief soak in the indoor bath – sighing as the hot water warmed up his core. After feeling sufficiently warmed up, he draped his hand towel over his neck and stepped outside to the gorgeous outdoor bath.

The morning air was crisp and cool, and the steam from the hot volcanic water gathered in heavy clouds above the surface. Squinting slightly, he could just make out the back of another person soaking at the edge of the pool.

As he walked closer, the other person sensed his presence and turned around. It was then that he realized that what he had thought was a slender man… was in fact a woman. A woman who happened to be the director of his theatre troupe.

“T-Tsumugi?! What are you doing in the women’s bath?!” Izumi squealed in surprise, quickly trying to cover her bare breasts with arms – but a moment too late, because, even without his contacts or glasses, Tsumugi still managed to get an eyeful of her pert, well-shaped breasts.

He immediately felt the blood rush to his face – and to his groin, much to his dismay – and he quickly turned around and tried to use his hand towel to cover himself.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize – I though this was the mens’ bath! We used this door last night!” Tsumugi stammered, shocked.

“U-Um, they switched the baths this morning. I guess you must have missed the sign.”

Tsumugi inwardly kicked himself for not just sucking it up and digging out his contact lenses earlier.

“I’m so embarrassed… Pl-Please forget this happened. I swear that I didn’t see, um… much…” he responded, his voice getting quieter by the second. “A-Anyway, I’ll leave now before anyone else walks in!”

Practically yelping out his last words, Tsumugi quickly began to leave. Unfortunately for the blue-haired man, in his haste to escape, he lost his footing on the slippery rock under his feet and fell down hard on his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“Tsumugi!!”

He heard a splash of water from behind him as Izumi scrambled out of the water and to his side.

“Are you okay?! You didn’t hit your head, did you?!” she cried, gently clutching his shoulder with one hand. The other was already carding through his hair, reaching behind his head to see if he had injured it.

“I-I’m fine,” he managed to gasp out as he regained his breath. “I think my pride is hurt more than anything – though I might be a bit sore tomorrow…”

“Phew… Thank goodness,” Izumi sighed, sitting back on her heels and closing her eyes in relief. “My heart was about to jump out of my chest when I saw you slip.”

“It was a close call, that’s for su—” Tsumugi’s voice trailed off as he propped himself up on his elbow and came face to face with a close-up shot of Izumi’s bare breasts. Seated as she was, it only took one downward flick of his eyes for him to take in the area between her opened thighs, and suddenly his mouth was dry.

Confused by the sudden silence, Izumi opened her eyes and saw that Tsumugi was red and slack-jawed…. and that his eyes were definitely not looking at her face. Flushing violently, Izumi was about to turn around to shield her body from his gaze when her eyes fell on a very prominent and very erect object. She froze, morbidly unable to move her eyes away. She should say something, but all she could manage was a strangled squeak.

This was enough to bring Tsumugi back to senses as he finally took in the situation between them – and more specifically his situation. He didn’t think his face could feel any hotter even if he were to plunge himself headfirst into the hot spring.

“O-Oh no!! I-I, ah…. I’m s-so sorry,” he stammered, scrambling to grab his fallen towel to regain what little decency he had left, his brain churning at double speed to come up with something to cover up his indiscretion. “This… uh, this just happens for guys sometimes. Um, it’s a physiological reaction. It-It happens a lot in the morning – It’sdefinitelynotbecauseIsawyounaked.”

The second his half-baked excuse came out of his mouth, he immediately blanched at the implication of his words.

“W-Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, it’s not that you’re not attractive enough to cause this reaction. In fact, you’re very attractive – too attractive. You’re so cute and your body is amazing. You look even better than I imagined – Ahhh!! W-What am I even saying?!”

“Tsumugi!” Izumi interrupted him loudly, and his head whipped around to look at her so quickly that he thought he heard his neck crack. Her face was bright red, but that there was a fire in her eyes.

“Did… Did you mean that…. that you think I’m attractive?”

“U-Um… Y-Yes…” he stammered, entranced by her feverish gaze.

“And that… that you imagined…”

“Yes…”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Izumi’s face suddenly filled his vision and her lips locked onto his. The force of her kiss knocked him back onto the floor and his arms came up to brace her against him, one arm circling around her shoulder, the other sliding along her back. He could feel her soft breasts pressing against his chest and he felt himself twitch at the sensation.

His head was spinning. He didn’t quite understand how this had happened, but his brain finally registered that he was kissing the woman he’d been crushing on for months and all other logic flew from his mind. Acting on pure adrenaline and instinct, he pressed his tongue forward to part her lips. With a slight whimper, Izumi allowed him access into her mouth as she bore down on him further to deepen their kiss. He could feel his lungs burning, but he didn’t want to part – didn’t want to let his lips leave hers for even a moment.

Suddenly, he was breathing again as he felt Izumi push herself off his body. Before he could say anything – or even think anything – she unexpectedly shifted and straddled his legs. His breath hitched in his throat as she slowly trailed her hands up his thighs, creeping closer to his erection.

“I-Izumi?”

And then her hand was wrapped around his length and he let out a choked gasp at the sudden contact. Her fingers were smooth and soft, and his cock twitched reflexively at her touch. He couldn’t contain his moan as she began to stroke him up and down.

“Um… It-It’s been a while since I’ve done this, s-so please tell me if it’s okay,” she murmured, ducking her head in embarrassment. He could see red staining the tips of her ears as she began pumping more earnestly.

“A-Ah! Y-you’re doing fine. Loosen your grip a bit… You can take it slow,” he responded with a small chuckle. She was seriously so cute.

Slowly gaining more confidence, and urged on by his gasps and groans, Izumi applied a bit more pressure as she stroked up and down, making sure to give careful consideration to every inch of his length. She could feel Tsumugi’s muscles tense underneath her as she kept a steady rhythm and tension in her grip. Before long, she could see beads of pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock. Swiping the sticky liquid with her thumb, she slowly dragged it down his shaft, using it as lubricant to speed up her motions.

“A-Ah, Izumi. W-Wait, st-stop,” Tsumugi gasped.

“S-Sorry, was I too rough?” she asked anxiously, moving her hand away quickly.

“No – you were great! I… I just… I want to touch you too,” he stammered, pushing himself up into a seated position.

He reached over and buried his hands into her hair – tied back behind her head in a bun – and pulled her forward for another slow and languid kiss. Izumi thought she would melt into him then and there and it wasn’t because of the heat of the steam around them. She had always been attracted to the handsome and gentle Winter Troupe leader, but she had never entertained the thought that he might like her back. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was all some fever dream.

“Izumi, will you… Will you let me try something?” Tsumugi asked softly as he parted from her.

Still stunned, the young woman could only nod. Disentangling their limbs, he gently grabbed her hand and guided her into the hot spring waters.

“It’s a bit warmer here, don’t you think?” he noted with a chuckle. He then turned her around so that her back faced him. “Can you lean over and brace yourself on the edge?”

“Uh, I can, but…  what are you going to do?” Izumi asked, though her mind was already jumping to the most obvious conclusion.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to go inside. I don’t have a condom on me, after all, so… this will be the next best thing. Just stand with your legs like this.”

Soon Izumi was bent over, with her backside towards Tsumugi. Her hands were splayed on the edge of the hot spring pool to prop herself up, and her legs were spread very slightly apart. She knew that her body was still wet from the hot spring water, but there was a distinctly different kind of wetness gathered between her legs.

Suddenly, Tsumugi’s hands were on her hips, and then she felt something warm glide between her thighs and along her folds. Izumi gasped at the foreign sensation and nearly lost her balance. However, Tsumugi’s hands steadied her and he continued sliding his cock back and forth against the outside of her wet lips.

“You’re… so wet, Izumi. You feel amazing…” he groaned in between his thrusts.

She could feel hot juices flow out of her as his pace quickened. The rubbing sensation against her most intimate parts made her moan and she could feel her heartrate quicken. It felt ridiculously good – way better than anything her own hands could do – and wanting to feel more friction, she unconsciously squeezed her legs closer together.

Tsumugi moaned behind her as she tightened her thighs around his cock. The heat from the steam and from the blood rushing into his nether regions was beginning to cloud his mind. He couldn’t help but pick up the speed of his thrusts, revelling in the feeling of the soft warmth.

As he hastened his thrusts, Izumi could feel the pressure building in the pit of her stomach. The feeling of his hard member rubbing against her was too pleasurable and she cried out involuntarily with each stroke. Desperate to ride the wave of heightening sensation, she began to thrust her hips back against him, feeling her ass slap against his hips.

An electrifying sensation started spreading through her body as her pants and moans became louder. And then, she was tipped over the edge as her orgasm crashed into her. She could only gasp out Tsumugi’s name weakly as she clenched her legs tightly together and shuddered, feeling the shocks of her pleasure rush through her entire body.

She could just vaguely register Tsumugi groan deep in his throat as he continued to thrust between her clenched thighs and she gasped at the feeling of his cock sliding against her sensitive pussy. But, before she thought she couldn’t handle anymore, he pulled back suddenly with a loud moan. His hands brought her hips down, and then she felt a splatter of warm liquid land on her back.

The young director’s legs were shaking and she thought she would collapse into the water, but Tsumugi slid one of his legs between hers and steadied her with his hands.

“S-Sorry, did I go overboard?” he asked softly, his breath still ragged. “Let me clean you up.”

He quickly grabbed the hand towel he had brought with him and gently wiped off his fluids from her back.

“N-No, I’m fine, just, um…. maybe a bit lightheaded,” she responded as she let herself sink down into the hot water. Her body still felt like it was on fire, she could barely even register the temperature difference despite the water being much hotter than the cool air on her skin.

“I-I’m so sorry, what was I thinking! You were already soaking in here already too. Let’s get you out of here and I’ll get you some water.”

Before he could panic any further, she grabbed his wrist and tugged on it lightly to get his attention. Suddenly feeling shy, as the realization of what they had done sunk in, she looked up at him from beneath her lashes.

“Um, Tsumugi, it’s okay! Please don’t apologize. I… I really enjoyed it…”

Tsumugi could feel his heartbeat speed up once more as he took in the sweet, coy look on her face.

“M-Me too….” he responded with a shy smile of his own.

He couldn’t be happier that he had suddenly woken up early that morning.

Annnnnnnnnd, that’s a wrap. I have nothing to say for myself, but I had a blast writing every second of this. Hopefully someone out there other than myself appreciates the trash fire that constantly burns in my head. As always, likes and reblogs are always appreciated! I look at every one to give myself motivation to keep writing! Or, if you’re shy since this is smut, feel free to just drop an anonymous comment in my ask box as well! Thanks for reading everyone~

-Anmitsu

[songficsbyrissi]

None Of Your Concern (Erik x Reader)

“Guess that's none of my concern anymore

None of my concern (It ain't worth anymore)

It ain't even worth it no more

It ain't even worth it (It ain't worth it)

It don't even hurt anymore

It don't even hurt” -Jhene Aiko feat. Big Sean

A/N: I knowwwwww I owe you guys SO MANY WRITINGS. Like I’m really trying to finish Let em know part 4 and post that but im a little stuck and a lot of busy. I will dish out all the writings I owe! Anyways, this is random but I heard this new Jhene Aiko song today and I fucked with it and it got my creative juices flowing so I decided to write it. It’s a little shorter than usual but I hope y’all enjoy!

*******************

You stared intensely at your cellphone that was put on speaker. There was silence on the other line and you sure as hell weren’t going to say anything.

Not to him.

You knew when you went from changing his name from “Do not answer” to deleting his contact all together would come back and bite you in the ass. “Do not answer” hasn’t flashed on your phone since the early stages of the break up so you figured since time passed, it was an appropriate time to delete his contact. You picked the perfect time to do it. When you were applying to new jobs and answering any number, hoping it was a call back.

You answered the phone enthusiastically when he called and when he spoke those two words-

“It’s me.”

You knew who “me” was. “Me” was your fucking ex. Erik. Of course he calls right when you forgot about him completely.

You didn’t say anything after that. Instead, you stepped away from the device as if you were trying to put even more distance between the two of you. You wanted to hang up but he wanted to talk to you and you knew he wasn’t going to stop until he got to. You hoped he would just hang up and realize y’all were over and staying over. After a few minutes, he stayed on the other line so you sighed in realization that you were finally going to have to talk to your ex. You should’ve known this day was coming.

“What the fuck do you want, Erik?” You finally spoke with venom laced in your tone. You were hoping he could feel you sneering at him through the phone. You heard him sigh deeply and you know he was trying not to catch an attitude.

“To talk. Not yell, not accuse, not attack. I want to talk.”

“Well we don’t always get what we want, sweetheart.” You replied in a faux sweet voice as if you were talking to a disobedient child.

He ignored your remark. “How are you?”

“H-“

You were stunned by his question. “How are you?” Did this nigga really just ask you how are you? You were honestly a lot of things, but most importantly, not in the mood to be talking to him. Not when you were just getting over him. Damn, you should’ve never dated his ass.

“How I am.....is none of your concern anymore.” You responded softly taking a seat next to your phone.

“Whatchu mean? It will always be my concern. I’ll still fucking care about you, shorty.”

Your voice got hardened. “Bullshit. You weren’t concerned about me when we were dating so why the hell would you be concerned now?”

From the other line, you could hear Erik rise from what you assume is his bed, by the sounds of bed springs with his movement. He was sitting up which meant he was ready to get in that ass.

“Aight I tried to be civil with your ass but now you’re getting on my damn nerves! What is your problem?! Why are you being so damn mean?!”

You took the phone off speaker and put it to your ear. “You’re my fucking problem, Erik! You are!” You heard him suck his teeth hard as hell.

“Girl, shut up!

“Nigga, you need to watch your tone with me! You know I’m not the one!” You yelled with your eyes narrowing at your reflection in the mirror. “Get your bitchass off my phone! Take your bullshit ass concern and give it to that bitch you be out with. You moved on quick as shit, didn’t you?”

“Oh you sounding a little bit jealous. Is that why you getting so spicy with me, ma? It annoys you that your spot might be taken!” He was sneering now, amused that you brought up the busted looking ass bitch he moved on to. “But I’m hearing things about you and some other niggas. Someone took my spot now? You just moving on quick as shit, too!

You laughed sardonically, crossing your legs and sitting back. “No, baby boy. I’m just disappointed. What do you even see in her? I expected better from you. But then again, what could be better than me?” You mumbled the last part but Erik caught it and couldn’t hide the little smirk that comment caused.

“If you’re better for me, then why are we not together anymore?”

You weren’t expecting that question at all. You but your lip, contemplating the answer. It was hard coming up with the legit reason why he was no longer your boyfriend. The memories flashing before your eyes were causing tears to build up in your eyes and you swallowed back some.

“We just didn’t work anymore.”

When he didn’t say anything, you continued.

“I was traumatized and suicidal, I'm sick and tired. My depression was real and you weren’t there for me. I needed you and I was the least of your concerns.” Your anger came back. “And now you on my phone with the audacity to fucking ask me if I’m fucking with other niggas?!??! BOY FUCK YOU! I’M NOT YOUR GIRL ANYMORE!”

“I KNOW YOU AIN’T MY FUCKING GIRL ANYMORE! AIGHT?! I FUCKING GET THAT! But guess what, Y/N? You knew it was hard for me to deal with all that! I told you I had issues when we first met! I told you I was damaged myself and I haven’t repaired myself! Did you really expect a sick person to heal a sick person?!”

“I didn’t want you to heal me, Erik! I wanted you to heal with me! Be fucking there! Was that asking for too much?!”

“From me? Yes it was.”

There was a blanket of silence after all the truth revealed. The truth was, you and him both had issues. Because of those issues, you couldn’t be together. If anything, y’all were doing more damage to each other. Erik has been damaged from his previous relationships. Giving his all to his girlfriends then they ended up stomping on his heart. It was hard for him to give his all to you and that’s all you wanted.

“I do want better for you, Erik.” You finally spoke.

“I want the best for you but these other niggas I’ve seen you with, don’t deserve you. I’m not sure if I even deserve you but I know I needed you more than I needed myself. I wasn’t trying to heal myself but you were the first girl who wanted me to heal. “ Erik was opening up to you which caught you off guard but you continued to listen to him. “If you ever find my replacement.....I don’t even think you can.”

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I doubt you can find a nigga that can make you cum 9 times in a day like I did.” You laughed a little, sat back, and realized something. Damn. How were you going to find a nigga that will dick you down like Erik used to? It didn’t matter. You have to move on and so does he.

“I still think about you naked and the taste of you and how you feel so good around me but I guess that’s none of your concerns.”

You gulped hard playing with the end of your shorts, letting out a dry laugh even though you knew he wasn’t joking. “Right.” You sniffled and cleared your throat. “Erik, I do wish you the best of luck though.”

“Same here, Y/N. Same here. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You pulled the cellphone away from your ear and gazed at Erik’s number displayed on the screen. Erik did deserve the best. You both did. He was no longer your concern anymore and you were no longer his.

But the funny thing is....that last statement held no truth.

Tags:  @lifelover4u @dessianna1 @brattywriters-anonymous @marvelpotterlove @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @ljstraightchaser @slimmiyagi @cancerianprincess @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @vibranium-chakra @nerd-lovely @chaneajoyyy @ohliyaxoxo @chefjessypooh @yourfavoritefavorite @airis-paris14​ @ljstraightnochaser @quietstorm-73 @msincognito67 @sociallyawkward18 @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @marvelpotterlove   @destinio1 @madamslayyy @thehomierobbstark​

[edxwin-elric]

Time Will Tell

FMA Secret Santa 2019

@snowdog49 surprise! I’m your FMA Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this fluffy little Edwin AU!

Rating: T

Pairing: Edwin/Edward Elric x Winry Rockbell

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Word Count: 2313

Title: Time Will Tell

Description: Edwin One Shot/Roleswap AU

Edward is an automail mechanic and Winry is his most loyal customer. The story is that she lost her right arm and lower left leg due to rogue explosions from the nearby military conflict, but Ed knows the truth. A failed alchemical attempt to bring back her parents after they were killed in Ishval. As someone who lost his own mother, he understands her grief, but his anger at his absentee father on top of that pain has left him with a short fuse. Yet somehow, his annoying and maybe-sometimes-adorable childhood best friend and automail client puts him at ease. However, her frequent visits for repairs are making Ed suspicious.

A/N: Merry Christmas!/Happy Holidays! I hope you like it!

ffn || ao3

Edward

“Hey, Brother?”

“Mmm?”

I don’t bother to look up at Al, who has his head in the door to my workroom. I’m focused on fitting a very tiny screw into a very precise hole, so I really don’t have time for distractions right now.

“I think you should clear your afternoon.”

Narrowing my eyes on my work, I talk around the screwdriver between my teeth. “Why?”

“Uh,” he bites his lip and finishes quickly, “Winry just called from the train station. She, uh, needs a repair.”

The tool falls out of my mouth, and I see the suddenly-unimportant screw fall between two metal plates as I turn to look over my shoulder.

“What did she do now?”

“I didn’t get all the details from Granny, but it sounded pretty bad.”

“Son of a bitch,” I bite out. “This is the fourth time this month. What the hell is she doing in Central?”

“On the phone I overheard her tell Granny she fell again.”

“She said what?” I sputter looking up at him as I move away from the table. “Bullshit!”

Al shrugs, and I let out a low growl.

“As if my automail was flimsy enough to break from a mere fall,” I hiss. “Absolute bullshit! I mean, hell, she’s supposed to be studying Aerugonian history or literature or something. How does that lead to bimonthly automail repairs?”

“Seriously, Brother, I’m not the one to ask.”

Ripping my apron over my head, I throw it on my workbench and tighten the knot at my waist where my coveralls are tied over my black tank top.

“I’m gonna lose my fucking mind, Al,” I mutter. “She knows how hard I worked on that arm. It’s a masterpiece. I was considering taking her to Rush Valley and entering it for the Innovative Automail Competition. If she ruined it…”

I don’t finish my sentence because I’m not sure what I’ll do if Winry destroyed her arm, and Al knows it.

“I think that’s her coming up the road,” Al changes the subject, craning his head to see out the window on to the balcony.

“I can’t look,” I mumble.

“Granny will be expecting us to go down and greet her.”

“I’ll come in a minute.”

I need at least that long to reign in my temper. It won’t do me any good to go off on her the second I go down. She’ll only fly into an indignant rage. Or worse, she’ll start crying. Nothing is worse than the crushing guilt of making Winry cry.

Al nods and disappears down the hall, and I exhale. I hear her voice float up the stairs a few seconds later, and my stomach flips upside down.

Shit.

Why does she have to be so cute? Fuck. I want to scream. Not because she busted my automail—though I could scream over that—but because…

“Fuck,” I groan.

I mean, no. NO. I don’t have a crush on Winry. I can’t. She’s my client. I’m not excited to see her. I’m just…

Annoyed. That’s what it is. Pissed and annoyed because she somehow managed to screw up the fine craftsmanship I did on her arm.

Unless it’s her leg.

I hadn’t even considered that. I shut my eyes for a second and the image of her smooth thigh flashes through my mind.

I feel my cheeks flush, and I want to punch myself. This is bad. I’m a professional. I shouldn’t get distracted like this. What is wrong with me?

“Edward?”

She calls my name from the bottom of the stairs, and I wince because that only makes things worse.

Then again, it’s Winry. She’s not exactly just any client. She’s… She’s…

“Ed,” her voice calls from the hallway, and I turn toward the door just as she steps inside. “Do you have a minute?”

Dammit. She’s perfect.

Winry

My mouth goes dry before the question is even out of my mouth, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. Since when does he look like that? Those shoulders? And the arms? Did he look like that last time? And how long has he been wearing a fitted black tank top? His pecs are—

“Winry?”

“Hmm?” I blink, lifting my eyes to his.

His eyebrows rise, and I swallow.

“Sorry. I, um…”

“Al said you needed a repair,” he starts slowly. “Is that what you wanted to see me about?”

“Oh, um, yes,” I say quickly, licking my lips. “Here. It’s my wrist.”

I walk closer to him and hold out my arm.

“It started locking up while I was writing a paper the other day, and then it did it again last night. I haven’t done anything that would mess it up except I fell out of bed the other morning, and I landed on it.”

“You fell out of bed?” he echoes with surprise. “How old are you?”

“I had a bad dream,” I bite back defensively. “Anyway, what do you think? Can you fix it?”

“Of course, I can fix it.” He narrows his eyes at me, and I roll mine. “Come here.”

He leads me over to the workbench and grabs a headlamp, which he slips over his forehead and the messy bun at the back of his head. I stand still while he turns my wrist over and back, pulling and twisting here and there, asking me the occasional yes-or-no question.

“Has it been hurting?” He turns it over again and looks up at me.

“Only a twinge here and there. Nothing too serious.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” I frown, something about his vagueness is bothering me.

“I’m not sure…”

My impatience increases, and I reach up with my free arm to rub my neck.

“Edward, can you fix it or–”

“Hold still, would ya?” he interrupts testily.

“I am being still.”

I’ve been standing still for a whole five minutes, and he has yet to say a single thing about my automail.

“Winry, just–”

“Ow!” I jerk when he twists my arm, sending a burst of pain through my elbow. “That hurt!”

“Well if you’d be still, it wouldn’t–”

“I was!” I snap. “And warn me next time!”

“I didn’t know it was going to hurt you,” he mutters as he straightens, blinding me with his headlamp. “I’m just doing what you wanted, checking your automail. Again.”

“Oh, don’t blame this on me,” I huff. “You designed it. If it keeps breaking, it’s probably your fault.”

“Bullshit,” he snarls, whipping off the light on his head. “That piece was perfect when I fitted it.”

“And the Titanic was unsinkable.”

“Son of a bitch, Winry, do you want me to fix it or not? Because if we’re just going to stand here arguing all day, I have other shit I can be doing.”

I sigh, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “Of course, I want you to fix it.”

“Okay.” He takes my wrist in his hands again. “Then be still.”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” he says after fiddling with it for another five minutes. “I think I found the problem. Fair warning, this might hurt.”

Before he even finishes, he presses down with his thumb, and a sharp pain shoots from my wrist up my arm and shoulder into my neck.

“Edward!” I screech at him as tears spring into my eyes.

“What? You said to warn you, so I did!”

“That was hardly a warning,” I hiss, pulling my wrist away and cradling my arm.

“You’re impossible!” He shouts, waving his arms in surrender.

“Me? If either of us is impossible it’s you!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m not the one who wants a warning and then yells at me even after I give her one!”

“That’s not why I yelled,” I retort, my voice strained with annoyance. “God, how did I fall in love with such an idiot?”

“I’m not an idiot! I’m—wait, what?”

“I yelled because I was in pain. You didn’t give me time to prepare before you–”

“What did you say?” he cuts me off, and I blink.

“When?”

“Just now.”

“Um…” I frown. “You’re an idiot?”

“Not that part. The other thing.”

“I was in pain?”

“It was before that,” he mumbles.

“Oh, I said–” I pause, and my heart trips over itself.

Did I really say that? Oh no.

I feel my eyes get wide, and I look back at Ed who is watching me closely.

“I said, um…”

“You said you’re in love with me,” he finishes finally. “Right?”

“Well…” I swallow, and I feel heat lick my face. “I think, technically, I said I was in love with an idiot…”

“But I’m the only idiot you know, right?”

“St-statistically, that isn’t necessarily true. I mean, I know a lot of people, and more than likely several of them are–”

“Oh my God, you’re such a nerd.”

“Shut up,” I hiss, ducking my head.

“Just…let me fix your arm.”

“Okay.” I hold my wrist out to him and avoid eye contact as he makes his adjustments.

“Sorry if this hurts again.”

He puts pressure on a spot by my thumb, and I wince. Reaching out with my other hand for something to keep me from collapsing, I find his elbow and cling to him for balance.

“Shit,” he whispers. “Give me a second. I just need to…”

He grabs a screwdriver from the table and returns his focus to the automail while my fingers remain tightly curled around his arm.

“There,” he says gently. “Better?”

I’m hesitant to move it after the excruciating jolt from a second ago. Another one of those will bring me to my knees for sure.

“Here,” he murmurs, taking my automail hand in both of his. “I’m just going to try to rotate it.”

“Okay.”

He moves it carefully, and I watch, holding my breath. When it doesn’t hurt, I nod, and he turns it again more quickly.

“I think that worked,” I say quietly as I exhale.

“It was just jammed. A fall like you mentioned could’ve caused it. I’ll just need to make a note of how it happened, so I can adjust my design.”

“Thank you, Ed.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He moves away, and I suddenly feel nervous. I watch as he returns the screwdriver to the workbench, and then I grab his hand without thinking.

“What?” He blinks, turning back to me.

“Um…just… Nothing.” I let go, and look away, a new flush climbing up my neck. “I just… I was going to say, um…”

“Yes?”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel that way,” I blurt. “I mean, if you don’t like me like that.”

“Oh.” He nods.

“I mean, I understand. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, and I don’t want to make things weird between us–”

“Shut up, Winry.”

“Right.” I press my lips together and start to leave. “I should go.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“What?” I look back up at him.

“I…I was trying to say you don’t have to… I mean, you don’t have to explain… I-I–”

“You what, Ed?”

“Fuck it.”

I open my mouth to ask what that is supposed to mean, but then he’s moving toward me. Fast. I blink, and his hand curls around my hip, and suddenly he’s kissing me.

Oh.

It lasts half a second, and then I realize I need to kiss him back.

So, I do.

Immediately, his hand slides around my neck, and he groans against me. My arm curls around his waist, and I sigh against his lips.

A knock from the doorway surprises us, and we instantly separate.

“Well,” says Al smugly. “It’s about damn time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ed glares at him, his hand still on my waist.

“Don’t ruin the moment, Brother.”

Ed looks ready to lay into him, but Alphonse walks off before he can.

“Ignore him,” I say softly. “He’s just teasing you.”

“I know,” he growls, “but it’s still irritating.”

“Granny said she’s making stew by the way!” Al calls from down the hall.

“Be there in a minute!” I shout back at him.

“Stew is good,” Ed comments starting for the door. “I’m starving.”

“Ed, wait.” I tug on his arm. “What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?” He tilts his head at me.

“You kissed me?” I shift my weight.

“Oh yeah. Well, um…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I figured you like me, and I like you, and we’ll just…see what happens, I guess.”

“Oh good. I just wanted to be sure. Let’s go eat.”

“Fuck yeah.”

He starts for the door, and I follow him.

“You know,” I tell him on the stairs, “if we aren’t telling Granny yet, I’ll probably need to fake some automail injuries to give me a reason to visit more often.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he mutters. “As long as they’re fake.”

“Oh, but Granny will be able to spot a false injury, so I’ll just have to find a way to break my automail on purpose.”

“What!” he sputters, tripping on a stair. “No! Don’t you dare!”

I walk faster down the steps as he yells after me.

“Winry, you’re kidding, right? Winry?”

Pressing my lips together to keep from laughing, I make my way to the kitchen where I fix a bowl for Ed along with my own. I’ll put him out of his misery when we sit down. I’m not that cruel. I know how important automail is to him. I just also enjoy riling him up, the same way he does me.

“There’s never a dull moment with you two, is there?” Granny says as she sits down at the table.

I grin and sit down across from her. “I certainly hope not, but only time will tell.”

And I really look forward to finding out.

[metalchick19-blog]

The Bowers Gang: Ship #9 - Victor Criss

Request: Alrighty I’ll have you ship me with whoever you think personally~ my hair is blonde and I’m short asl, but I also have a tattoo of a black rose on the side of my wrist. A lot of my friends tell me that I can always make them laugh with what I say or do and a lot of them will often come to me for advice or if they need to rant about something, which honestly just makes me feel even better as a person. I’m someone who will always stand by you if you’ve never done me dirty and need help. I do have a goofy side that only my closest friends see everyday, which is honestly sometimes just me as person. I think of myself as a fairly outgoing person and I’m never one to just stand in the corner of a party. Some things I need to work on are opening up to other people when talking about feelings and problems I have instead of just bottling them up. If there’s someone that I don’t like, I make it very clear and can be totally heartless towards them. I can also stress myself out easily and get overwhelmed by everything that’s going on. I’ve been through some shit, so I have a better understanding of other people’s hardships than most people. Being friends with me means that you always have someone to go to for laughs, but also someone who won’t sugar coat anything for you. Being in a relationship with me means you’ll actually have someone devoted to you and fun times, but you also gotta break down any walls built up. To put it into simpler terms, I’m a pretty chill person who goes with the flow but can get serious when it comes to something that’s important to me and I need to do. A couple of facts about me is that I want to be an elementary school teacher (I love kids so much, more than people my age tbh), I smoke the devils lettuce damn near hourly on a daily (fuck getting drunk, getting high is better), I love going to the beach, driving around downtown with friends, or just taking time to myself in my room to listen to music!

Always traces your rose tattoo absentmindedly when you cuddle/sit next to each other

Finds your transparency hot as hell, because he sees it as an indication of how honest you are 

So appreciates the shit out of it, even when you’re being a total icy bitch to someone he doesn’t even know (and learns to assume you have your reasons when he doesn’t understand why)

The guys gave you a designated seat in the Trans-Am because you drive around with them after school so often (like the trooper you are) 

You’re on the far left, behind Belch, with Victor in the middle between you and Patrick (very much on purpose)

Victor sometimes comes over to people’s houses to keep you company while you babysit (the ol’ “sneak in the boyfriend routine”)...

... and actually helps with the sitting of the baby, rather than expecting to fuck and/or sit and watch movies like some other teen delinquents we know 

But seriously - Victor is straight-up the daddy to your mommy whenever you guys watch kids together, and it’s truly one of the loveliest things ever

Tends to start off awkward at first (he’s very friendly with kids, but has a hard time talking to them in ways they understand since he can’t “dumb down” his language), but always ends up being their literal favorite person by the time the night is over (apart from you, of course)

Entirely because Criss makes funny faces like a pro, keeps the small ones entertained while you warm up dinner, and ties shoes singing the bunny ears song and everything 

I.e. He’s “the fun guy”

Also demonstrates an inside voice like nobody’s business, and slides a coaster under every drink (house rules = respected) 

Also steps up to do some of the disciplinary things when you can’t get a specific smol one to listen to you 

... and is low-key a toddler whisperer about it too

When he has to be the disciplinarian, Victor always just kneels down to the tiny kid’s eye-level (regardless of whether they’re screaming, crying, or otherwise), and casually starts talking to them as if they understand every adult word that’s coming out of his mouth

Which most of them couldn’t possibly do, because toddlers 

... But, from the moment they make eye contact with him, the majority of kids go completely serene and just stare at Victor like they do understand what he’s saying, and clean up their act right after he “discusses it” with them

The guy seriously somehow stops all tears/whining/unacceptable behavior just by being like “hey, that’s not cool dude, and here’s why”

It’s legitimately random to the point of being annoying, because there’s no reason getting children in line should be that easy for him (considering it’s insanely difficult for some people that actually have kids)

You insist that the lil’ buns are just reflecting Victor’s calm nature, but his smug smile will always indicate he low-key thinks he’s better at child-care than you

... Which you know isn’t true, but we’ll let him think what he wants to think

He finds it really endearing how well you get along with kids though, and thinks it’s adorable that you’re able to connect with them so easily

You’re the first person he’s ever been with who’s made him think, “She’ll be a really great Mom someday,” and that’s beautiful 

You make Victor smile in the moments when he truly gets down on himself

This is a pretty big deal, because he tends to feel the fuck out of things regardless of the emotion

It’s impossible for the majority of people to sway Victor’s mood at all when he’s upset, because it always settles over him so heavily...

... but you somehow do the trick.

Your goofy nature usually bounces off of him at first (he stays in his head, and doesn’t give much response to most of your humor for a while), but you always eventually say something that strikes a cord with him, and elicits a small smirk

... which eventually leads to a smile, which leads to a laugh, which ultimately leads to you talking out his issues with him and lifting his spirits

You’re seriously one of Criss’ main emotional outlets, and I wish I could shake your hand, cause’ that’s an honor 

This isn’t a one-way street, though - Victor does the same for you

He noticed early on (before you were even together) that you only tended to talk about positive things/ “surface level” information even after you had been hanging out with the guys for a long time

And to him (i.e. the group psychologist), that made it clear you were trying to keep your distance by not sharing your problems or talking about things that were really important to you

So he made a point of being there for you x1,000,000 when you officially got together 

Example: He knows you won’t bring up any of your issues unprompted, so Victor asks how your day is going at every given opportunity

Aka: he provides a chance for you to tell him something’s bugging you

He also jumps on it whenever you show any visible signs of being sad, and straight-up asks you to tell him what you’re feeling because real men aren’t afraid to talk about that jazz 

Even though it took time for you to get used to it (i.e. sharing your emotions), it’s now something that’s become a reflex for you

You’ve cried on Victor’s shoulder, shared your previous traumas, let him see you at the peak of rage, and he’s done the same with you; there’s nothing left to hide 

The two of you have seriously reached a point where you could tell one another anything on the spot

You’re each other’s permanent comfort and support - simple as that.

When one of you is feeling especially down though, or when you both just feel you’ve earned a break from life (i.e. after exams, or during spring/winter break), you and Victor have “intensive care” smoke sessions at his house

...Tastefully named “intensive care” smoke sessions by the both of you

This basically means hot-boxing Victor’s room all day long (fucking glorious), watching movies in his bed, and playing whatever tapes you want on full blast at random intervals throughout the day

The two of you cycle between just sitting and listening to the music (typically at the peak of your high, when you’re both brain-dead), to talking about incredibly philosophical/incredibly stupid things (”who closes the bus door after the bus driver gets off?”), to raiding Victor’s fridge for munchies until you eventually empty it and have to walk into town for more 

Side-note: Victor is smooth as fuck when it comes to being high and acting normal in public

Whenever you guys order food anywhere after you’ve already smoked, he’s always the one who speaks because he never stutters, breaks eye contact, or forgets what he’s saying in the middle

You’ve even seen him get into full, logically sound conversations with people just minutes after taking a bong rip in the Trans-Am (group smoke sessions are a thing too)

The guy legit held it together even when his parents came home in the middle of your smoke session once, and introduced you normally even though you were having a level 10 panic attack, and were not subtle about it (those darting high person eyes were all over the place) 

In short, he can basically just revert back to being sober again whenever he wants to, and it’s a major turn-on for stoners everywhere. 

*Pointless side-note ended*

You try to get Victor to socialize at the 2-3 house parties Henry forces you all to each month, but he won’t do it

Just stands next to you, quietly sipping his beer and letting his attention drift around the room

Fields small-talk when he has to (he’s not shy or unapproachable - just introverted), but usually just prefers to be the handsome guy standing next to you while you own the spotlight

You’ll forever be the majestic, sociable party dom with a dry-humored wallflower for a boyfriend - enjoy

... he looks at you a lot while you talk to people though, and it’s so obvious he’s thinking about how beautiful you are, because his eyes make it clear he’s focusing on your face rather than your words 

So many girls in Derry High hate you because of adorable crap like this - there’s a lot of salt over Victor Criss being so thoroughly taken by someone

Patrick often tries to break you away from Victor at parties, because, like you, he talks easily and likes to try to get into shit (and because he thinks you’re hot/would love to take a girl away from Victor using only the power of his penis)

He’ll randomly show up next you when you’re getting another drink, going to the bathroom... or, really, doing anything other than talking to Victor

...At which point he propositions the shit out of you, and tries to convince you to come upstairs

This has never worked out well for him.

You did play a legitimately sick game of beer-pong together once after you got him to stop coming onto you (for a second), but that was just because you were already buzzed, and felt unusually tolerant towards him

So even though you usually reject him wholeheartedly (and somewhat loudly/angrily), you two will always be remembered as the life of post-homecoming blowout, 1987 (where you made every single shot, and didn’t have to take even one drink between the two of you)

... Still doesn’t change the fact that he’s trying to do you though, and that you’re too loyal to Victor to be feeling it 

Even though he won’t participate in other ways when it comes to parties, Victor always dances with you, because he has a specific thing for watching you move to house music

You asked him about it once, and he just said he thinks it’s beautiful because it “accentuates your purity”

If you don’t get what he means, you’re in good company - the guy has an artsy soul.

Interesting side-note: Like Patrick, Henry has low-key wanted to sleep with you from the moment he first saw you, but keeps it heavily under wraps in the interest of not screwing up you and Victor’s relationship 

He doesn’t talk to you much, and has a hard time maintaining eye contact even when he does (because guilt and attraction)

Essentially decided that abstinence is key where you’re concerned, and tries not to form much of a connection with you so it’s easier to control himself

Avoids being left alone with you at all costs, and doesn’t acknowledge you much in general

... He eyes you a lot when he gets drunk though (most often, at the parties you go to)

No words, but enough wasted leering to make it clear where his head is at

 It’s never escalated into anything, but it’s something you notice.

... And you’ve never told Victor in the interest of preserving their friendship. 

* Interesting side-note ended *

Victor tried to take you on a private date to the quarry once (because you’d always told him about how badly you wished there was a beach in Derry), but the guys found out and showed up unexpectedly as soon as the two of you hit the water

... And it was actually your first date.

Meaning Criss was not at all entertained by that bandwagony bullshit.

They literally just came to see you in a bathing suit (hence why they came out of hiding only after you’d gotten in the water), and you’re such a bad bitch that you called them out on it rather than let it be 

... But that just earned a predictably creepy affirmation from Patrick (”What, you thought we were gonna’ let Criss keep a body like that all to himself?” *Disgusting Hockstetter cackle as Victor death-stares him into oblivion*), and didn’t amount to anything more than obnoxious laughter on Henry and Belch’s part 

Long story short, the guys all stampeded into the water with you, and swimming for 2 became swimming for 5

So, yeah. First date was a group date, and no one was thrilled.

Because of what you’ve been through in life, you understand some of the fucked up situations Victor has experienced better than most other people; as a result of that, you have a unique understanding of his hot/cold feelings about the gang

I.e. You get why it isn’t just black and white for him - other people may see the guys as straight-up evil, but it’s different for Victor, and you get that

Essentially you understand that he’s a ride or die (because genuine loyalty), but that he’s also ready to jump ship in the interest of not becoming something he isn’t; he’s never been able to express that to anyone else 

Because you get why Victor feels moved to leave the gang sometimes (and partly because of your own experiences with them), you support him in that direction whenever he mentions it

Being that you don’t sugarcoat things, you confirm for him that the guys aren’t people that would be good for his adult life - he’s always thought that in his head, but has never had another person around who knew the guys personally to corroborate the opinion

Meaning, now that the opinion has been corroborated, it’s kind of huge for him

You may ultimately be the thing that gives Victor the strength he needed to leave the guys, because you help cement his view that it would be the right thing to do

Plus, his relationship with you would fulfill him to an extent where he wouldn’t feel as attached to the gang as before, and he would see himself as being much happier in a future with you than in a future with them

In short, you might change the course of Victor Criss’s entire life - have fun being the best thing that’s ever happened to him

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God -Chapter 16

Warnings: Mention of rape, graphic violence, and language. 

Chapter Sixteen

“So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

-26 Days After-

The morning was cool for June as Ophelia snapped her thigh holster in place. She slid her hand gun into place. She hoisted her shotgun over her shoulder and stuck her blade in her boot. She didn’t like guns, but after her last run in with the Rogues she wasn’t in a position to deny the necessity. Plus, she’d never felt so badass in her life. She left Emerson asleep, hugging her pillow, and made sure to give Sam a really big kiss goodnight. She left him breathless. His love wasn’t lost on her. She could tell that their hearts beat together every time he looked at her.

He wouldn’t approve of her going out in the field, but it wasn’t about him and her, it was about Emerson. At the end of the day it was the Maklen sisters. If they had to pick, it would always be each other. She had to do it for her sister.

Pheli leaned against the tree, waiting for the rest of the group. She sipped her coffee out of her canteen, and focused on the colors in the sky as the sun teased the horizon.  

“Well, Hell in a hand basket, you showed up after all.”

“Ash.” Pheli said with a smile. “Morning.”

“We had a bet runnin that you wouldn’t show up.” He flipped the bottom of his mullet over his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes. “And whys that?”

He shrugged. “Gender bias, probably.”

Ash was a serious genius. He didn’t look like much in his cut off flannel and mullet, but he went to MIT before it all went to shit. He made the water filter system in the camp and was solely responsible for the gate around the community. He was damn fun at get togethers, too. The first night by the fire he ended up buddying up with her and Sam singing along with Benny. He made a genuine fool out of himself, and that made him okay in Pheli’s book.

“So fucked up.”

“Agreed.” He said, adjusting his machete on his shoulder. “Let’s head to the Jeep. Gordon’s probably already there.”

“Who else is coming?” She asked as they began their walk to the gate where the Jeep was parked.

Ash shrugged, walking with a bit of a bounce in his step. “Hell if I know. People don’t tell me shit. Always be underestimated, Blondie. When you are, it’s really easy to surprise people.” He offered her a wide grin.

“I know exactly what you mean.” She said smoothly.

Her hair was in two braids down her back to keep her hair out of the way. There were no flowers in them that day. There was no time for glitter and pleasantries.

Ash was right. Gordon was already in the front seat, tapping the steering wheel impatiently. “Shot gun!” Ash called with a wide grin, breaking out into a funny, wobbling jog to the Jeep.

Pheli rolled her eyes and picked up her speed. She opened the back door and slid in.

“Surprised you made it.” Gordon grunted from the front seat.

“Lots of that going around.” She said, shifting her weight to keep her knife from digging into her calf.

The door to her right opened up and Dean slid in next to her, wearing a wide ear-to-ear grin. “Ready to go!”

Pheli started at him her heart rate leaping at the sight of him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She hissed through clenched teeth.

“Cas mentioned your heroic volunteering. Couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

“Did you tell Sam?”

“And let him try to follow you? No fucking way.” Dean laughed breathlessly. He reached forward and patted Gordon’s arm, causing Pheli to flinch instinctively. “Come on, Buddy. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Ash?” Gordon asked, starting the Jeep.

Ash leaned forward and pressed a garage door opener, causing the gates to spring to life. They opened with a creak and a groan. “Outward and onward.”

Gordon pulled out of the camp and headed back toward the city. “We don’t have many more runs to Dallas. It’s about picked dry.”

“And overrun.” Ash agreed.

“So.” Dean said, leaning close to Pheli. “What’s this about?”

“I wanted to wear the cute thigh holster.” She said, deadpanned.

“Oh, sure. Of course.” He said, not sounding at all convinced.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before he poked her leg.

“God, what?”

“I go by Dean, actually.”

Pheli glared at him. “Was this your plan all along? Trap me in the backseat so I can’t run from you? You want to ask about her. We just talked yesterday. I said...”

“You said you’d talk to her. Did you?”

“She isn’t ready, Dean.”

“Isn’t ready for what?” He asked, weakly. “If you haven’t noticed the world is ending.” He said, gesturing to the wreckage outside the Jeep. “We are on sort of limited time here.”

Pheli sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not my place to tell you. It’s hers, if she wants to.” She said low enough for only him to hear it.

In the front seat Ash sang along to some old cassette tape that was jammed in the Jeep’s radio. It was loud enough to drown them out. She just hoped Gordon wasn’t paying attention.

“I don’t wanna lose her again.”

“You two are so fucking frustrating, you know?”

“Try being a part of it.” He said with a dry laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“We need to cut your hair.”

“What? The long hair is only cute on Sam?” He teased.

“Yes actually.”

“Hurtful, Phel. You’ve got a mean streak. Who would’ve known?”

Gordon turned down the radio and glanced at Dean and Pheli in the rear view mirror. “We are approaching our drop point. We will split in groups of two. Ash has maps of the places around the block that need to be searched and what’s expected to be found in each place. We have a list of supplies that we need, but if you see anything worthwhile grab it. And Ash that doesn’t include skin mags and more ball caps.”

“You have to have culture to have a functioning society, Gordon, you snob.” Ash complained.

“Everyone has been issued a watch. We are staying an hour. That means that when we exit the Jeep, it will be rolling out in sixty minutes. With or without all of us, so make sure you’re back and buckled in before that hour is up. If not, I hope you’re a good runner, because you’ll be footing it back to camp. Keep your guard up, and try not to shoot unless you have to. Sound attracts them. Any questions?”

“Just one.” Pheli said, leaning around the seat.

“What is it?”

“I want to team up with you.”

Gordon shrugged. “Fine.”

“Aw, my ego is fucking bruised, sister.” Dean complained.

“Don’t sister me, Winchester.”

“Alright get your fucking head in the game team.” Gordon said, pulling into downtown. Ash handed the maps along with the packs that were required to make the run.

“Everyone has the same list.” Ash explained. “Just get what you can. Use common sense and you’ll be fine.” He offered a smile before the Jeep rolled to a stop.

“Sixty minutes.” Gordon said, making eye contact with Ophelia in the mirror. “Let’s go.”

****

Emerson stretched out in bed, reaching out and missing her sisters warmth next to her. “Phel..” She groaned sleepily. When she didn’t get a response, she sat up slowly. The tent was empty.

She rubbed her eyes and stood up, still crouching so her head didn’t graze the top of the tent, and she wrapped her blanket around her. She expected to find her sister cuddled up with Sam, or getting her morning coffee. Pheli was all about her beauty sleep, but ever since the incident with Gordon neither girl was able to sleep well.

She poked her head out of the tent. The camp was quiet, still lulled in the early moments of morning.

She felt dead most of the time. Like Gordon reached up inside of her and pulled out the part of her that was human. The part of her that was alive. She wondered if it was how the Rogue’s felt. Sometimes she felt like she was on autopilot, just doing what was expected. She smiled when it was required, even though it never reached her eyes. She knew that Pheli had to see it, but she didn’t comment on it. She was giving Emerson space and that was truly all she could ask for. She’d successfully dodged Dean since that last moment that they had with Lisa. She couldn’t stand it, looking into his warm green eyes. She couldn’t have him look at her like he wanted to see the sky within her, because the fucking sky was dark. There were no more stars. There was no moon. There was nothing but darkness.

She squinted at the camp. The burning embers left in the fire showed the late night conversations had by old friends. It was the only sign that anyone lived there. Everything else was still.

She took advantage of the stillness to get some coffee and to just befor a bit. She wouldn’t have to act or pretend. She could just sit and fill the hole inside of her with black coffee and dark thoughts. She pulled her blanket tightly to her chest, closing herself into it, as she walked to the coffee cart. She didn’t care if it was last nights brew or if she had to brew it herself, she would suckle the caffeine and try to remember how to be a person, because every day that went by was harder and harder to remember how.

She reached the coffee stand, and picked up the insulated pitcher and poured into one of the available canteens.

“Pour me one?”

Her back stiffened and she turned to see Lisa standing with her baby strapped to her chest. “I was just up getting Ben back to sleep. He gets restless sometimes. A walk usually puts him right back down, but Mommy needs a pick me up.”

“Sure.” Emerson said, forcing a smile. She offered the canteen that she poured for herself. Suddenly coffee didn’t sound as good as it had before.

“Emerson, right?” She took the canteen, and gratefully sipped at it.

“That’s me.” She hugged her blanket around herself, like a protective layer.

“You came with Sam and Dean.”

“You’re observant.”

“You don’t like me much.”

“Very observant.”

Lisa shifted her weight, bouncing Ben. “You know Dean and me...”

“He’s all yours.” Emerson said quickly. “I won’t be standing in your way.” She caught a glimpse of little Bens freckled face, and she felt sick to her stomach.

“I don’t need your permission to pursue him.”

“But you’ve got it anyway.” She forced a smile. “Life is sometimes nice that way. I better get back to bed, Pheli will be looking for me.” She pushed past Lisa, trying to hold everything in. She was the little Dutch boy with her finger in the dam. Any minute now everything would come rushing out, and sweep her away.

“Emerson.” Lisa said, causing Em’s feet to plant in the dirt. She waited for whatever Lisa wanted to say. She didn’t know why. She didn’t owe the woman anything. She wasn’t the bad guy. She was backing down. What else was she expected to do? “It isn’t up to us, you know. Dean was always a complex man, but this part isn’t complicated. He either loves me or he doesn’t. There’s nothing else to it.”

Emerson smiled bitterly to herself. “If you really think that, you’re so much dumber than I thought.”

She didn’t wait for a response, and made her way back to her tent. She didn’t make it a habit of shitting on other women. It wasn’t the way she was raised. Women were allies. They had to stick together, but this time... this time was too much for her. She didn’t have the patience to rise above. She’d lost enough.

She curled up in her blankets, pulling them over her head. She sat under there, and she pulled out her bag. She dug all the way to the bottom and pulled out a notebook and her pen. It was getting close to the end of the notebook. Time had gotten away from her. She clicked the pen a few times, before flipping to an open page.

Dear Dean,

I want to go find you. I want to walk over to your tent, pull you out of bed, and shake you until you understand. I need you to understand. More than anything I need things to be different. I need all of this to not have happened. I’ve coped. Haven’t you watched me cope all this time? I got over you. (Am I seriously trying to lie? Way to go, Em) I was a kid when this all started. When I watched you walk away. But I coped. I’m still coping.

But still I want to go find you. I want to let you remind me what it feels like to be alive. He fucking hurt me, Dean. In a way a person should never have to be hurt. I thought the way that you hurt me was the worst thing I’d ever feel, but losing you... that hurt in my heart. This is different. He reached inside of me and cracked me open. He stole pieces that will not allow me to be whole ever again.

Part of me wants you to fix it. I know if I asked you to, you would crack pieces of yourself to put me back together, but what would that make me? I can’t give you what I need when I’m like this. Not when I still wake up in a cold sweat feeling his weight on me.

All I’ve ever been for you is complicated. Things have never been easy. It was never the right time. Who are we to think that this is the right time? During the fucking apocalypse, of all times. You deserve something better. You deserve what I wish I could let myself be.

I remember the night at the ocean before you left. I remember what I almost... you said you wanted it to be real. I’m not real, Dean. I’m not myself. Not anymore. I’m a shell with Emersons face. The girl you knew is dead.

I am so sorry for your loss.

Em

She closed the notebook, shutting away her letter along with dozens of others from the years that she never sent. That she never had any intention to send. The wall around her heart was complete. Brick by brick. She was a princess in a tower of her own design. A tower with no escape hatch and even when the prince came... she would not let down her hair. She would ignore his calls and pray to a god that wasn’t listening that he would go away. That he will finally leave her to her poison thoughts and shackles. That he would finally leave her alone with the greatest monster of all, herself.

****

Pheli’s bag weighed heavily on her shoulders as she climbed a set of stairs behind Gordon. They spent the first forty-five minutes finding most things on the list. She’d scored with a huge bottle of low grade pain killers and several canned goods. There was soap and clean underwear tucked in the bottom of her bag. Gifts for Emerson. After everything was over Pheli wanted to burn her old ones. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Gordon wasn’t in a chatty mood. Every time Pheli tried to get him to talk to her long enough to get anything from him, he would just grunt and move on to the next aisle. She was getting really fucking tired of it.

“So where are you from, Gordon?”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s all gone now. Look for some honey. Cas likes it.”

Pheli’s eyes narrowed as he rounded a corner to of sight. He knew she was circling him.

“Is there really more stuff up this high?” She asked, gripping the railing as they ascended the stair’s, climbing higher and higher.

“There’s somethin important up here.” He grunted out.

He unlatched the door, swinging it open. His boot crunched as he passed through the threshold. She followed him, stepping into the sunlight. They were on the roof. She frowned and turned to him, watching him latch the door again, locking them up there together.

She crossed her arms. “What the fuck are you doing, Gordon?”

“I’m not stupid, Ophelia. You volunteered because you have something to say to me. So have at it.”

“You presumptuous fuck.”

“Oh so you don’t have anything to say? I sleep with your sister and you don’t care. Great. I was worried that there was something off with you two, but maybe not.”

Bile rose in Pheli’s throat. It stung and bubbled like the rage within her. “You...You...”

“I fucked her. Yeah, I know. It was okay.” He shrugged. “Can’t be too picky around here.”

“You son of a bitch. You raped her.”

“She was flirting with me all night.” He said flatly, approaching Pheli slowly enough that she wasn’t preparing against it. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Leave her alone when she said no.”

“Gotta repopulate the human race. Can’t be so picky.” He shrugged smugly.

“And you can sleep at night with that logic?”

“Like a baby.”

It was so fucking wrong. It was wrong that he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt, while Emerson cried in her sleep. It was disgusting. She didn’t feel sick anymore. Her skin was hot, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. It wooshed like the sound of waves at the ocean.

“You fucking men think you can do whatever you want.” She said, closing the space between them.

He reached forward, pushing a loose hair behind her ear. “We don’t think, Princess.” He leaned in to her ear. “We know.”

Something possessed Ophelia in that moment. The girl who was made of cinnamon sugar got a hint of cayenne. Something sparked in her. Maybe it was his hot breath against her neck, or the smug sound of his voice, but something overwhelmed her. It was like she was watching her body from above as she grabbed the back of his neck and slammed her forehead into his, knocking him backwards.

He was taken off guard and he stumbled. Her head pounded in response, but her adrenaline kept her moving forward, her self defense class she took in college bubbling up to the surface. She pulled back and kicked him square in the chest, her leg aching from the strain in her muscle as he fell directly on his back.

His head smacked the concrete of the roof, and he looked up at her shock present on his full lips and wide eyes. “You’re going to regret that, you bitch!”

“I already do.” She said, pressing the heel of her boot to his throat. He gasped in response. “I regret not hitting you sooner. I think you’ve seriously made me stupider since I had to listen to you talk. Is it contagious, Gordon?”

He gurgled, unable to respond due to the boot pressed firmly against his Adam’s apple. He clawed at it, but she had the upper hand. “Tsk tsk. Better not. It doesn’t take much pressure at all to break that little ball in your throat. I wonder what the survival rate of that is in a post apocalyptic world?” She smiled, saying it all a little too sweetly, as she pulled his gun off the holder on his belt. She tossed it away, and it clanked as it skipped across the ground.

She pulled her shot gun off her shoulder and loaded it, cocking it into place with a sharp click. “Get on your fucking knees, and don’t try anything funny.” She said, removing her foot.

He immediately gasped, clawing at his throat as a breath flowed back through him.

“Now, you son of a bitch. Knees!”

He complied, climbing up to his knees. She pressed the shot gun barrel to his head, directly between his eyes. “No.” He muttered between snotty tears. His hands came up in front of his chest, his palms facing her in surrender. “D...don’t do it. I’ll apologize.”

“But you aren’t sorry, Gordon. That’s the problem. People like you just take what they fucking want no matter what the cost. You hurt my sister.”

“I did.” He sobbed, his voice trembling. Clear snot rolled down out of his nose and onto his lip.

There was no satisfaction for Pheli in his tears.

“You have to pay for that Gordon.”

“You aren’t a killer, Ophelia. Don’t do this.”

She laughed, causing the barrel of the gun to tremble against his skull. The cool metal leaving an indention on his skin. “Maybe not, but there’s no law anymore. There’s no justice. There are just people and monsters. The people kill the monsters, and from the little time I’ve known you, it’s pretty obvious to me what side you’re on.”

“I’m not a monster! I... I will be a better man...I’ll...”

“It’s too late for that, Gordon.” Pheli said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Make peace with whatever god you believe in.”

There was something tragic about the loss of innocence. The loss of faith in humanity. The loss of hope. Pheli stared down the length of her shotgun and said goodbye to the part of her that was human. Because he was right. She wasn’t a killer, but if it was between her sister and her innocence it was an easy pick.

She wouldn’t be the girl with flowers in her hair anymore, but maybe that was okay. Maybe it was time for her to retire her braids and grow the fuck up.

She pulled the gun off his skin, just back far enough.

“Please...” He begged, as her finger rested on the trigger. “I had a sister, too. I lost her. I lost her. I lost...”

Bang!

—————

Chapter Seventeen

Get caught up!

Tag List:

@purpleskiesandcherrypies

@hanaissupergirl

@deans-baby-momma

@cpag7

[sprydecreates]

ferry lookout

requested: nope

warnings: mentions of drinking, language

pairings: calum hood x reader

type: fluff w an angst scene ; headcanon/list ; 3.4k+ words ; gender neutral

summary: you and college!calum finally thought you had found something with each other. too bad there was a miscommunication. or is it?

a/n: i originally intended for this to be a valentine’s day thing, but it never felt right for it. so i spruced it up, and i think it finally feels decent.

i’ve been off my writing game for a bit, so i’m sorry if it feels different halfway through (this is due to being off me game and also changing the idea completely). hope you like it either way! i think it’s sweet.

it was a kind of restless night, and you and calum were having a drive to a lookout.

everyone had things to do, except cal.

ash had a night at the club

mike and luke were studying for an exam they both had the following day

so, cal texted you and asked if you wanted to hang out.

you and calum exchanged numbers the semester before

you sat together for economics, and contacted each other for homework help usually

since it was during spring semester, you both went your separate ways for summer, and didn’t really contact each other

there were the occasional likes on instagram, and texts of memes about how awful the professor was, but nothing else

pretty much an excuse for you two to still talk

you both thought the other was cute, but you didn’t know how to come forward with it. as, you could see, all you two talked about was class, and memes relating to the class

when classes started again, you got a text from calum asking what you were taking

you didn’t have any of the same classes, as your majors were polar opposites

but, he did wish you a good year, and said if you needed any help with your math course, he’d be glad to help

you two spoke every other day, but nothing huge

the lookout was popular with locals, but you hadn’t ever went up there, or heard of it rather, so calum insisted that was where you two would go.

initially, you were just going to grab some late night snacks and head back to his apartment

but on the way, you passed the lookout.

“where’s that little road go?”

“what do you mean where does it go?”

“uh, like, is there a house up there?”

calum pointed to the lookout sign, “are you talking about that one? with the huge ass sign saying ‘ferry lookout’?”

“so, it leads to a lookout?”

“...have you never been?”

“no..? is it big or something?”

calum gives you a playful side eye, then focuses on the road again, “i’ve been up there so many times i can’t count. i can’t believe you’ve never heard of this place. this calls for a change of plans, we’re going up there.”

so, after grabbing your respective late night favorites, you and calum headed towards the lookout.

on the drive, you took this opportunity to ask calum how long he has lived here

“uhh, like. five years, maybe?” calum answered while turning into the road to the lookout.

“ah, i see. so you’re from australia, right?”

“yup. accent give it away?”

“yeah, i mean i noticed you say your i’s like ‘oi’. like you pronounce your friend michael’s name as ‘moie-kol’. but i noticed on instagram that that’s where you went for summer, and you have sydney as your hometown.”

“oh, yeah. i always go back home for the summer to see my family.”

“wait so you’re out here on your own?”

the car neared the parking spaces for the overlook, and calum parked the car in the middle of the lot before continuing his story, “yup. i, well, me and my friends, moved here when we were younger for our band. i was about seventeen at the time.” calum reached into the 7-eleven bag and popped open his bag of pretzels, “we moved here because our first album went kinda big, at least on social media. so we made the choice to pack up, and see what america had for us. we got here, got too cocky, and it all went to shit. had to go back home for a little, live with my parents, save enough money, and then came back.”

“well?” you had already gotten your snack ready, munching from time to time while calum spoke.

“you want the full story?” he glanced over to you, chuckling a bit after seeing you scrunched up in the passenger seat, eager to hear his story for once.

“hell yeah! i wanna know what happened to this band of yours. pleeeeease?”

he quickly swallowed the pretzel he was chewing, and took a gulp of his slurpee, “okay okay, fine. we’re called bromance, by the way. but after we came back, we were still together, just not so hard. like, instead of us making music for fame, we made it because we wanted to. like we sat back in straya talking about what we needed to do, cause we went from thinking we’d hit it big, to having to ask our parents for money for a plane ticket back home. we already had two year leases on two apartments, and we couldn’t exactly break them, so we worked until we had enough money to cover a few months rent on our own, and then we came back. got more jobs, and stabled ourselves.”

you nodded, and closed your jaw which had been slacking with admiration, “is that why you went to college here too?”

he nodded back to you, “mhm. that’s why i’m twenty-two and in second year classes still - i could only afford to take like three courses per semester, if that.”

you held up a hand and shook your head, tilting it downward while doing so, “no judging here, i’m only here because i won a scholarship. i’d be back in my hometown in the local community college if it wasn’t for it, honestly.”

calum raised an eyebrow, “damn, you got a scholarship?”

“yeah, i wrote an essay about my life struggles, and they gave it to me.” you shrugged, and then realized how ungrateful you sounded, “don’t get me wrong, i’m grateful for it, i just don’t see how i got in with it.”

calum pushed and stretched out his bottom lip in both agreement and confusion before he spoke, “well, it must’ve been good if you got in.”

“eh, whatever. tell me more about you, though. i wanna know about your family, and this little bird named ‘mali’ you have tattooed on you.”

for the next hour or so, you and calum explored each others past, and present. the conversation kind of went dry when it came back to this lookout, as you two pretty much knew everything about it that you needed to.

calum was staring out at the vast lights carrying the city to sleep, and he spoke softly to keep the mood, “i still can’t believe you’ve been here for two years and you haven’t been up here. it’s like, the most romantic spot i know.”

you scoffed, raising your hand and shooing off his last comment, “bold of you to assume anyone has asked me on a date since i got here.”

he scrunched the left side of his lip up while looking over to you, “you’re kidding.”

“well, halfway,” you began, lightly speaking with your hands, “i’ve been asked out, but it’s only to fuck.”

calum turns his head back to the view, “i can see that. i never got that bit; i love going on dates, and hanging out and stuff. i don’t know why it’s been looked at as a joke from 2017 on.”

“right?!” you snap your head to calum, “it’s like, what the fuck ever happened to just chilling with a person for a couple of weeks or something and getting to know them that way instead of playing an over-sexualized game of twenty-one questions?”

calum widened his eyes, pointing his index finger at you while you spoke, “honestly!” you two exchanged feelings about current relationships standards and past relationship complications, until it got kind of serious on calum’s ends: “that’s why i don’t really believe in love. cause like, i always try to be a nice guy, like an actually nice one and not a ‘m’lady’ neckbeard thing, but i always get fucked over. and i try, but it’s like, why even attempt if you know something will never come to you?”

you sighed, nodding along with what he was saying, “i get that. but at the same time, you gotta look at the world around you. there’s what, nine or ten billion people in the world that you haven’t met?”

“yeah, but it’s like, if i were meant to fall in love, shouldn’t i have already found a trace of something real?”

you raised your eyebrows, gaining a stern but gentle tone with him, “calum you can’t base love off of what you got when you were seventeen and in your first real relationship. we were kids, and we’re bound to break ‘love’, no matter what age we are. people fall in love at forty, some at twenty - some with their hometown best friend, some with a person halfway across the world. love isn’t dead because it didn’t happen to you like it did in the movies. wouldn’t you rather have something real as to something scripted?”

and with that, calum mentally took note, and decided maybe he’d give love a chance again.

but, that was roughly four and a half months ago.

it was now the end of april, and you and calum had gotten closer than ever.

after the night drive and you both got home safely, he texted you and said, “Thanks for a fun night. It’s cliche as hell, but I think you’ve opened my eyes a bit. Hope to hang soon.”

of course, you two hung out two days after. and two days after that. and after that, and so on.

it was really cute though

lots of sweet banter

couple of deep conversations at each others apartments at two in the morning

which would turn into sleep overs after you two talked more

comments on instagram that were kinda flirty, but still open-ended

any lovey dovey stuff, really

your notes on calum:

really, really good guy. god tier guy.

very romantic, but not a huge fan of pda

humble

insecure but passes it off as humor and refuses to take a compliment or believe someone might like him

offers you hoodies when it’s upwards of seventy-five degrees inside

has made you several home cooked meals

doesn’t shame you or put you down if you’re having bad mental health days and need space

says your name reeeeaaaalllly giggly if he’s feeling soft

knows stan language and actually made a stan account for his own band to secretly interact with fans because you told him about an au where that happens

he of course didn’t tell you to make a stan account for him so you can recreate said au

brought you back a surfboard key chain with your name on it from his trip to australia for christmas

you’re in love with him

calum’s notes on you:

realistic

pushy in the right ways

honest, but sometimes in a backhanded compliment type of way

fashion forward, has given him a couple of new styles to work with

encourages him to try new things and to fully be himself

plays with his hair in order for him to fall asleep

leads to cuddling because he had his arm around your waist and head on your upper torso

gives him confidence to try out ‘feminine’ things (painted nails, (heart stud) earrings, etc)

up to talk about his problems with him

gets along with his friends, and doesn’t act weird because they went viral a couple of times

also interacts with fans as though you’re a stan account yourself

stays around to help with homework, even if you don’t know a thing about what he’s doing

comfortable silence is brought up here too

he’s in love with you

spring is of course, the season of budding romance. or, at least it is to you.

you know, flowers blooming, warm sunsets and seeing each other in golden hour, an overwhelming sense of acoustic guitar playing in the background; that sort of thing.

so, you know what that means?

you decide to ask calum out on a date.

yeah, you! you know he likes you, what could go wrong? 

on a friday evening, you got dressed up, and decided to take calum on a fancy dinner date.

you were ready to go at about six, and gave calum a ring.

“hey (y/n)!”

“hey calum,” you were smiling ear to ear at this point, “whatcha up to?”

“eh, nothing too big. what about you?”

“oh, you’re up to something?”

“umm! kinda but not really?”

your smile drooped, and your tone changed, “oh, alright. cool.”

calum was silent for a second before speaking in a concerned, soft tone, “everything alright?”

you were breathing in through your nose to stop the tears brimming, “yeah, not a problem. i’ll leave you to it. see you.”

what the fuck?!!?!!!!!!!!!!/!?!!!!!!!!!e,me39834,m?!?!?!?

calum? going out????

he wasn’t seeing anyone?E>.dW>QDLWE<

oh my god it was that girl commenting on his pictures that he followed back

he played you

oh my GOD he played you and you LET IT HAPPEN. YOU THOUGHT HE WAS THE ONE FOR YOU AND HE SAT AND SWEET TALKED YOU INTO BELIEVING HE LIKED YOU TOO AND PROBABLY GOT MAD BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T LET HIM HIT IT YET

YOU KNEW WHEN HE SAID HE WASN’T A M’LADY HEADASS THAT HE WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

coincidentally, your best friend, (y/f/n) called:

“hello?”

“hey! whats up?”

since you and calum were never an official ‘thing’ (even though you told your friends you thought something would happen), you decided to keep it calm, “not a thing, why?”

“wanna come help me get ready? i’m going to the club an-”

“sure, be over in ten.”

(y/f/n) seemed a bit off, but you didn’t really pay attention. you were just trying to get wasted, and throw away the feelings you thought were finally, fine.

this being said, you two jetted to the club.

“hey, (y/n)?” (y/f/n) asked, turning their head to face you.

you turned your head to (y/f/n) while you waited in line to get into the building, “what?”

“is everything, like, good?”

you turned away from them, nodding once, “i’m gonna make it be.”

about an hour and a half after you both got into the club, you received a text from calum.

“You busy?”

left on read

“If u sent something, I never got it”

left on read

“Is everything okay?”

left on read

“Dude what’s going on?”

you rolled your eyes, and angrily slid your phone onto the table in front of you, grabbing what’s left of your second drink and taking a swig. (y/f/n) watched and started to question.

“what’s up?”

you finally broke, “calum.”

(y/f/n) rose an eyebrow, “what about him?”

you sighed, “i finally thought we were gonna be something. i thought he liked me, but right when i got up the courage to ask him out, he told me he had something planned.”

(y/f/n)’s eyes widened, and they started to stutter, “he uh, he said he had something, planned? when? like right now?”

you nodded while you spoke, “yeah,” your hand flew from the crossed position it was in and pointed to your upside down phone, “right before you called, he told me he had something to do.”

“what do you think he’s doing?”

“no clue. he usually tells me he’s going out with his band mates, cause he had to call me one night to help him get one of ‘em home. so he’s always told me to keep me on standby. this time, he seemed really giddy, and like nervous.” you sat quiet for a few seconds, debating on whether or not to stop yourself from tearing up again, “so i’m guessing he found someone and didn’t wanna tell me.”

(y/f/n) picked up their phone halfway through you speaking, probably to look people up to mark out suspected people for later, “i dunno (y/n), i think you’re over thinking a bit.”

you gave (y/f/n) a defeated sigh, shrugging afterwards, “i don’t know. i mean i hope not, but i’m not gonna hold my breath.”

after a few minutes of tense silence, (y/f/n) suggests you two leave, and head back to your apartment to talk.

on the way back, you got to complain about how you thought calum was made for you.

(y/f/n) did keep smiling weirdly. were they the one calum was seeing?   

thoughts came to a standstill, though.

why?

calum’s car was in the parking lot.

or at least it looked like it. you didn’t have his tag memorized, obviously.

(y/f/n) parked, and finally turned to you with a not really well hidden smile, “sorry you thought something was up.”

you had your eyebrows furrowed, “what?”

all they said was, “have fun,” and ushered you out of their car.

you, although confused, walked up to the front door and started towards your room.

when you unlocked your door, you heard a soft guitar playing from what sounded like your living room.

you tiptoed into the dimly lit room, and turned the light switch on. there sat calum, a yellow tinted acoustic guitar sat on his thigh as he strummed it, and started to sing the good side by troye sivan.

it was one of those songs you told calum about, and how it reminded you of him.

not in a ‘we broke up and one of us felt worse than the other’ way, but more or less, ‘we’ll meet in the spring’, as you two did come back to each other during that season; ‘traveled the universe twice’, where he came from australia and stayed by fate; ‘i got the good side’, as you found growth and goodness through each other in hard times. so, in a ‘i love you, and the universe wanted us together’ way.

throughout the song, you had found yourself sat in front of calum, your heart beating as though you had just ran a marathon, and it only sped up as the song ended.

you sat with your palms pressed against the insides of your calves, staring at calum as he let a wide smile settle on his face. he spoke while he sat his guitar on the table in front of the couch where you both sat, “sorry about lying.”

you finally found the strength to whisper, “about?”

he had positioned himself closer to you, now looking into your eyes, “being busy. i mean, i was kinda busy, setting this place up and all.”

you took the opportunity to look around for once, seeing that he had picked up a bundle of your favorite flowers, and scattered them around the room. he had a couple of candles lit that you had smelled since you walked in. and you didn’t know if he meant to, but he was wearing the shirt he wore when you two went to the overlook for the first time.

after taking it all in, you turned back to him, “you did this, all, for me?”

he nodded, giggling a little at your surprise, “mhm. you look beautiful, by the way.”

“wait, did you know?”

“know what?”

“that i liked you?”

“wait, you?” he cocked his head to the side, trying to form a sentence.

“yeah? i was going to take you out to dinner tonight, and like when you said you were busy, that’s why i got so distant, cause i you know thought you were entertaining someone and i got jealous-”

you were cut off by calum cupping your cheeks, “i’m so sorry, i didn’t think to word it differently i just thought you were having like, a night or something and got annoyed not because you thought i liked someone else.”

your palms found their way to calum’s cheeks as well, “no it’s nothing now, i just got freaked out and overreacted without giving you a chance. i’m sorry too.” calum had started to rub his thumbs against your cheekbones, and it threw off your thought process a bit.

this was all you wanted. this, is all you wanted, and it’s right here in front of you; rambling, and shaking, and loving.

“please.” you shook out of your realization, and asked him to repeat himself, “kiss me, please. i’ll pay you if need be.”

to say the least, he paid you in rent money when he moved in five months later, in tickets used to meet his and your family, in presents exchanged during holidays, in a down payment on a house, in baby clothes for your four dogs, and obviously, in all the love he had ever given / had for anyone he had ever met: you. his soulmate that he fell in love with due to an unplanned first date.

[huangels]

the universe works in mysterious ways - haechan

a/n: happy birthday to the shining sun, haechan!! this scenario is dedicated for hyuckie’s bday but it’s not june 6th anymore in korea but in america it is so-,, i didn’t expect this to be so long sorry dkshdh. i’m making a tag for birthday dedicated fics btw, (also i wanted it to be all in haechan’s POV butttt it didn’t turn out well so it’s half and half)

summary: Haechan bumps into you at the cafe you work in, and grows fond of you so he visits more often. Every visit is full of shining smiles and glowing eyes, until one night, he trudges in with a gloomy storm cloud above him. 

genre: fluff, if you squint there might be light angst?

warnings: none

word count: 3.1k

[ HC's POV ]

The buzzing small cafe is filled wall to wall with people. As expected, since it is breakfast time. Haechan is lucky enough to get there earlier than the breakfast rush hour to find an empty small table near the corner. At least, the table is by the window (he likes to people watch).

Haechan's next class doesn't start until noon, so he has time to relax and study his notes, mostly out of spite (his friend Mark says he crams studying before an exam). His laptop, every inch of the back filled with random stickers, is spread out across his small round table, along with his textbooks full of stick notes and notebooks. It isn't that Haechan is a bad or inadequate student who doesn't take notes, he's just a professional procrastinator. While his eyes skim through his bullet-pointed notes, he feels the on-building regret of waking up 4 hours before his first class of the day just to study in the chatty and stuffed cafe.

Haechan debates on whether he should get up and stand in the lengthy line to wait for a large cup of caffeine. Although, his head unknowingly falling from his hand and almost hitting the table answers his question. To save his table, Haechan places his red backpack on his seat, making sure his valuables are hidden from prying hands (his computer closed and hidden under an opened textbook and his phone safely in his pocket).

Though the line is long, looping around the small range of the cafe, the employees work fast to cater to everyone's orders. In no time, Haechan reaches the front of the line.

In place of his friend, Mark, who is usually working behind the cashier in the mornings, stands a new face. A very attractive new face.

"Good morning! What would you like?" you ask, meeting the slightly wide-eyed Haechan. The friendly smile that spreads across your face causes Haechan's heart to speed up, losing track of how long he's been staring at you. Not wanting to come off as creepy, Haechan shakes his head away from the distractions that are you. His usual order (a large caramel latte with whipped cream and a cherry) is on the tip of his tongue, but he freezes before it leaves his mouth.

What if my usual order seems too childish? Haechan thinks mentally. He doesn't want you to think he's younger than he is, ordering the sugariest drink in the cafe, especially since the customers previously in front of him ordered dark coffees and shots of espressos. Remembering the order of the student before you, Haechan decides to change his order, just for today (hell, maybe he'll actually like it).

"A large - Americano," Haechan orders, dubiously. You press a few buttons on the screen attached to the cashier on the counter.

"For here or to go?"

"H-here."

"Okay, that'll be $4.79."

Haechan digs his pockets for his wallet, pulling out a five dollar bill. You ring up the bill before grabbing the exact change, holding it out with the receipt. Haechan involuntarily swallows while he grabs the change. As he comes into contact with your hands, his fingers feel like putty. He retracts fast, stuffing his hand into his front pocket to drop the change.

"Your drink will be with you in a moment," you inform him, then calling next. Haechan trudges back to his seat, thankfully still untouched. He removes his hand from his pocket, sure that it is melting on the spot.

Knock it out, you weirdo, Haechan hits the side of his head lightly. He looks down at his notes once more, trying to distract him from that fact that he's found his true love (Mark always says he's way too overdramatic, in which Haechan dramatically reacts by shoving him away).

His mind is filled with information about the British colonial system, when a beige plate with a matching large mug is placed next to his notebooks. Haechan looks up to quickly thank the waiter until he is lost for words once again. His eyes beeline to the cashier and standing behind the counter, taking orders, is Mark. Haechan's eyes return to yours, still as wide as ever.

"Hey, if you don't mind me asking, why did you order an Americano when you usually order a latte?" you wonder, carrying the metal plater to deliver the mug behind your back. Haechan's mouth becomes dry from holding it open for too long.

"Oh - erm - because I just wanted to...try something new, yeah," he answers after regaining his state. "Wait, how did you know?"

"I usually work behind the counter making drinks. But since it is so busy right now, we had to call in more workers, so today I'm a waitress."

"Then why were you behind the counter earlier?"

A faint blush paints the tips of your cheeks but you shift your head so your hair covers it as you peer to the ground. You toy with the platter behind your back, "Mark - he had to get something from the back...so I took over for a few orders."

Haechan isn't sure if you're telling the truth or not, since your voice is so quiet and the bustling cafe isn't helping. But he lets it slide, afraid that if he opens his mouth to interrogate, he might say something embarrassing or uncomfortable.

"Oh well thanks for the coffee," Haechan says instead, holding it up before bringing the rim to his parted lips. It's burning hot, no doubt, but the mixture of espresso and water with barely any milk to diffuse the bitterness causes Haechan's face to twist in a peculiar way. A laugh escapes from your mouth as you use your free hand to cover it (Haechan thought it was adorable). Before you walk back to the counter, Haechan catches a glimpse of your name tag, Y/N.

He'll be sure to remember that for next time.

And sure enough, he does. Haechan frequents the cafe you work at almost every day before and after his classes. He even goes as far as waking up hours before he usually sleeps until, to visit you. With his progressive visits, Haechan gets the chance to talk to you more, getting to know you little by little, and he grows fond of you.

[ Your POV ]

It's a Thursday evening, not many customers as it is the end of spring semester and everyone is home with family or out on vacation. The only people left in the cafe are students taking summer courses, trying to stock up on caffeine in order to finish up assignments and exams. You wipe the empty tables, getting rid of crumbles or coffee spills. Soon enough, the cafe empties out once the clock hits 10 PM, the students packing up and heading back to their dorms or such. You're now alone in the abandoned cafe, not even other employees are working since you're the only one that signed up for the night shift for tonight.

As you mindlessly clean around the shop, you wonder how Haechan is doing (he seems to be on your mind a lot recently). He visited earlier today, around noon, but there appeared to be something bothering him. When you took the seat in front of him and questioned why the long face, he would just brush it off, saying he had a bad day. Hopefully, that is untrue because today is a very special day. You hope that Haechan's mood has turned a full 180 and he's enjoying his day with his loved ones.

After clearing the round tables, you pull out the mop from the back room and drag it across the floor to clean any stains or dust. It's the routine for whoever works the night shifts, to clean up. Though, there are usually more people working to help out. But tonight, it's just you and the whirling of the coffee machines cleaning themselves. The ticking of the clock perched on the far wall continues, 10:52 PM, almost closing time.

You push the large tub of cleaning water and mop back into the break room before hanging up your beige apron. The sound of the opening entrance activates the bell, signaling that someone has entered the cafe.

"Sorry, we are closing in 5 minutes," you inform and turn around to let the customer out, but stop in your tracks as Haechan plops down in his usual seat. His expression is still gloomy, causing your heart to contort in an unpleasant fashion. "Haechan, what are you doing here?"

"A slice of vanilla cake, please," Haechan ignores your question, ordering the dessert with a gravelly and ruffled tone. He places his head on the table, chin resting on his folded arms.

"Cake? Don't you have cake at home?" you ask, but walk behind the counter to grab a slice from the display.

"I don't want to talk about it."

That seems like the go-to phrase of the day, with every question pertaining to his rainy mood, that is the response you are met with. With a sigh, you carefully transfer a slice of vanilla cake onto a plate and set it in front of Haechan. He grabs the small fork provided and just as he is about to dig in, you shout out for him to hold it. Confused, Haechan retreats his fork and watches as you scramble out of your seat in front of him to the counter once again. You dig around in the cubby under the counter where you keep your backpack, pulling out a box and grabbing some things from the drawers as well.

You shuffle back to him, holding the three items behind you back. Haechan raises an eyebrow, a question of 'what' about to spill out of his mouth. But before he can do so, you place the box on the table next to the slice of cake. Haechan's eyes switch from watching you to staring at the box in front of him. It's neatly enveloped in red and gold wrapping paper, a big golden bow taped on top.

"For me?" he asks, a finger pointed at his chest.

You roll your eyes teasingly, "No for the ghost behind you."

"Should I open it now?"

"Up to you."

Haechan reaches for the box, hand on the bow, but sets it down afterward. Your face drops, does he not like it? Is it too much to gift him something even if the two of you only met a few months ago? The beat of your heart matches you breathing, sporadic.

"Sorry, Y/N. Thank you so much for the gift. I really appreciate it. You're the only one who remembers," Haechan voices, though it's faint and full of gloom. He sets the box down, probably planning to open it later (you hope, that is).

"What? No way, I'm sure there's just a misunderstanding," you suggest, but the lack of response tells you to move on. Instead of prying further, you pull out the other two items from behind you. A package of used candles and a matchbox. Delicately, you stick a few of the small candles on the cake before taking a match to light them. Haechan follows you with full glassy eyes, he tries not to cry. You wave the match around to extinguish the fire.

"Happy birthday to you," you sing with a smile that illuminates brighter than the flames on the cake. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Haechan...Happy birthday to you!"

You clap gingerly, not wanting to blow out the candles with your movements. A tear rolls down Haechan's eyes before he quickly reaches to wipe it away, acting as if nothing happened. He leans forward with his eye closed, cheeks puffed, about to blow out the candle when you lightly clamp a hand over his mouth.

"You have to make a wish first, silly!"

Haechan scoffs nonchalantly, but the tint of his cheeks give away his cool facade. He closes his eyes once you withdraw your hand. The warm tones of the fire bring out the rich caramel color of Haechan's skin. You think it's beautiful, giving compliments every time the sun rays beam in through the window to kiss his vibrant skin. His shaggy brown hair falls over his forehead, lightly brushing his eyelashes. He opens his eyes, the chocolate-colored orbs gleaming down to blow out the candles. Snapping out of your unexpected trance, you cheer and urge for Haechan to eat the cake or else his wish won't come true.

After Haechan finishes the cake, you clean up the dish and silverware, not wanting your boss to scold you for leaving dirty dishes in the sink before closing the shop. The older boy moves to pay for the cake but you reply that it's your treat. It's his 18th birthday after all, he can't pay for his own cake.

Haechan and you walk side by side back to the dorms in the windy but humid night once you closed up the cafe. The silence is peaceful but there is something off about it as well, it bugs you. Haechan acts normally, but it seems as if there is something in his head that's bothering him. He keeps spacing out (walking into the road when the red stop light is on, missing a turn, almost hitting a stop sign). You have asked what it is that's troubling Haechan today but he doesn't want to share. Yet, you still feel the urge to question it. On one hand, you don't want to upset the latter, especially on his birthday. But on the other, he is already upset and there is a possibility you can make it better.

"Haechan?" you beckon in a hushed tone, even though there is no one out in the street at 11 PM. He hums in response but keeps his eyes trained in front of him on nothing in particular.

"Can you please tell me what's wrong? Why are you so upset? You know it's better to talk about things than to keep them bottled up."

Haechan releases a sigh, head leaning back to gaze up at the night sky, "It's my birthday today."

You wait for him to continue, not knowing what to say as you already know this information. Hence, why you prepared a gift for him. After a lengthy silence, presuming that Haechan is contemplating on whether to let it all out or not, he finally continues.

"But no one remembered," he exhales into the air, "no one except you."

"I'm sure there's a reason behind it. Maybe they texted you but it didn't send, technology can't always be trusted. Or what if they tried to leave a voicemail but your inbox is full or the machine isn't working. Or they tried to send you a gift but it got lost in the mail," you propose, trying to lighten the burden on Haechan's shoulders.

"Y/N...," he begins, his face now staring at you instead of the dark sky, "thank you, really. Thank you for always being there for me. For being here with me. And for remembering my birthday. I really don't know how I deserve someone like you, who is so warmhearted and positive, in my life. But thank you."

"Of course, Haechan. I care about you," you declare tenderly. Haechan stops walking, his arm holding onto yours causing you to stop as well. His eyes glisten, though you don't know if it's from the stars in the sky or of tears. Even when the sun isn't out, his skin still radiates warmth and glow.

"I like you, Y/N," he says without further thought. You're taken aback by his confession and expression, for it's serious with his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his lips tight in a line. Opposite from his appearance, you can't help but smile, fully comprehending his words. High on the rush of happiness, you swing your arms around Haechan's neck, pulling the latter closer to your body. Up close, his face is even more flawless, his eyes large, his nose round, and his lips plump and glossy. Though, you can't let your temptation for a kiss overrule your consciousness, so you lean to the side and plant a short kiss on his rosy cheek.

Haechan's eyes somehow grow wider, but before you can pull away, your lips are locked with his as an arm snakes around your waist to enclose you in his frame. His lips are as puffy and buttery as you imagined, the kiss chaste and soft. You feel as if the stars in the sky have stopped moving, the planet has stopped rotating, and everything around you has come to a halt. A charge of electricity runs up your spine, warming up your body. You imagine this feeling only happens in fiction, having read it multiple times, but this new experience is one you never want to forget. Haechan breaks away to your displease, eyes still closed, but he doesn't move far as he rests his forehead on yours.

"Would you look at that, half of my wish has already come true," the words leaving Haechan's mouth like silk. You lean your head back to look at him in the eye.

"What's the other half?"

"Can't tell you."

"Oh right, or else it won't come true!"

"I don't think it will anyway, but I'm more than content with what I've got right now."

"Oh shush, you never know, the Universe works in mysterious ways."

You peer up at the sky, the stars shining a lot brighter than before. You wonder if this is what it's like to be in love (though you don't really know what true love is), with everything becoming brighter and clearer. Haechan locks his hand with yours and continues walking back to the University dormitories.

"Can you stay with me tonight? I need comfort, we can watch movies - and cuddle?" Haechan asks, swaying your laced hands back and forth.

"Of course!"

It doesn't take long before reaching the large building of dorm rooms. Both male and female students share the same building but are located on different floors. Though, the RA doesn't really care who goes into who's room as long as no one is dying. With your hands still enveloped in his bigger ones, he reaches into his pocket for his keys, fumbling around before unlocking the front door and revealing his dark empty dorm room. Once he closes and locks the door, the lights flash on with a collective scream of "Happy 18th Birthday Haechan!"

Haechan drops his keys as it flies around in the air. He whips about his feet, meeting face to face with his friends, a birthday banner being held up in the middle. One of the guys walks towards Haechan, putting a party coned hat on him, while Mark snaps a picture of Haechan's reaction with a Polaroid. Haechan's death tight grip on your hand finally loosens as tears threaten to breach.

The other half of his birthday wish has come true.

[kumeko]

harley’s rehabilitation

Prompt: Bruce takes in Harley and helps her get a roof over her head for once

Character/Pairing: Harley, Bruce, Cassandra Cain, Selina

A/N: For the @dc-secret-santa for @tjada-sees-the-world-go-round. Sorry for the delay, hope you enjoy! (Harley is so hard to write, I hope I did her justice.). I’m basing this off BTAS for the most part, with a little comic mixed in. I’m in the process of writing up the Diana/Bruce prompt, so hopefully I’ll post that tomorrow.

Summary: It was strange, trying to be normal, trying to be good. Harley wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, let alone having the Batman of all people help her.

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i.                     A favour

“I need a favour,” Selina asked, perched on the edge of the roof. “I know my favours aren’t worth much, but still…”

 Batman glanced at her. She clutched her wrist uncertainly, biting her lip when he didn’t say anything. A nervous energy emitted from her and whatever she was asking, it was important to her. He approached her from behind, staring down at the city. Far below them, tiny headlights zoomed down the street. “What is it?”

 “Harley, she…” Selina took a deep breath, turning to him. “She wants to change.”

 “Does she?” Batman asked. When Selina glared at him, he clarified, “It’s a serious question.”

 “Right…she has tried before.” Selina sighed. “She’s serious this time. I know she is.”

 And how? He didn’t ask—while he wasn’t around for most of it, he had heard of Selina’s, Ivy’s, and Harley’s time together. ‘The Gotham Sirens’, as the underground jokingly called them. For a while, it had worked. Ivy kept off the streets, Harley kept away from Joker, and Selina…well, whatever she’d gained from it, she’d only smile mysteriously when questioned. Like he’d expect any other answer from her.

 And now, it seemed, despite their separation, it had done a world of good by convincing Harley to reform again. Maybe he should have more supervillains live together. Dick was always complaining about how boring reality shows were these days.

 “I did it,” Selina pressed, taking his silence for disagreement. “It took time, I slipped back, but I did it. She can do it too.”

 I’m having a bad day, Harley had declared once, one the verge of release from the Asylum.

 I had them too, he’d answered as he returned her pink dress and perhaps that was all it took. A single bad day. A single good hand. She hadn’t succeeded then but now could be different. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

 Grateful, Selina kissed his cheek. “Thanks!” When he gave her a flat stare, she grinned. “Can’t blame a cat for trying.”

ii.                   A warm bed

Harley Quinn jumped on her bed, testing the bed springs. There was a direct correlation between bounce height and how good a bed was. Science had proven that.

 Probably. She was completely bullshitting it but there was a kernel of truth in every lie. Or so she’d heard. Anyways, this bed was in great condition. Nothing sagged. There was no smell. Hell, there were actual springs inside and none of those cheap slinkies either. Batman didn’t mess around when he helped.

 And perhaps that was the strangest thing about this—not the ordinary neighbourhood or the smooth walls of her apartment, not the normal neighbours or even the cleanliness of her room. These were things she sort of expected when she decided to go ‘good’. The way she got them, though, was completely surprising. Harley Quinn was getting help from Batman. The Batman. What sort of strings did Catwoman pull?

 She’d always thought the pair were close, but maybbeeee…Harley pouted. They could have had girl talk all this time. Ivy was terrible at it, hating people, but Selina? Ahhh, so that was what her sly smile meant when Harley asked about any lovers.

 Well, Harley knew now. Next time they’d met, Selina wouldn’t slip out of dishing it out.

 She bounced one more time before flipping off the bed. Tumbling through the air, she landed almost perfectly. A 9.2, if she was honest. An Olympic contender. Heading to her window, she peered out at the peaceful town. Her street was dark and empty and quiet, so very quiet, nothing at all like the streets of Gotham. In the far distance, she could make out the silhouette of her old home city.

 Better to stay away from it all, Batman had explained after he drove her here. That and Don’t touch that were the only things she’d heard the entire ride.

 Crossing her arms, she leaned on her sill. There might be some truth in that. It was too easy to get sucked back into it in Gotham. Mister J would never let her get away, not for long. Harley knew that, she knew that all too well, each time she got out, like quicksand he dragged her back down.

 Better here, far from temptations reach. From Mister J and his poison, from Poison Ivy and her smile. He was too far gone to turn back and Ivy…she had rejected the choice entirely.

 At one time, Harley would have agreed with that. At one time, she did agree with that. What had she gained from that? Nothing. Nothing at all. All she had was loss. They wouldn’t love her the way she loved them, she could see that now. And if she didn’t have love, what was left for her?

 Harley stepped back and closed the blinds.

 iii.                 A resume

 “Please, take a seat.” The receptionist gestured at the waiting room.

 “Sure.” Harley gave her best Normal™ smile before scanning the fancy-ass glass room. The whole company felt too modern for such a small town. They were here for the tax breaks. The lower wages. And they called her the monster. At least she was honest about it.

 Picking a seat, she adjusted her glasses. God, it was strange wearing them again, she’d been wearing contacts for ages. Her reflection this morning was like looking at a ghost. Brushed back hair, glasses, a suit; it was so easy to look domesticated.

 To be honest, this freaked her out. Just a little. None of her skills in the past few years could help her here. Well, maybe the bullshitting, she was a grade A bullshitter, but beyond that...Harley sighed as she looked at her clear case folder. Inside was her resume, all neatly typed up.

 Batman had installed the latest devices in her temporary house—a laptop, a printer, a phone. He even included one of those fancy-smancy virtual assistants. Oracle, it called itself. Cute name for such as a useful tool. Before Harley could even consider destroying her computer, Oracle had found a template, hooked up her printer, and even found several sites to help write it up.

 “Harleen Quinzel?” The receptionist called out and Harley stood up quickly.

 “Here!”

 iv.                 A rejection

 “Were you raised in a barn?” Harley asked as she closed her door behind her. On the other end of the room, directly across from her, the Batman perched on the edge of her couch. Her non-ratty, non-smelly, barely-stained couch.

 Maybe she should serve him tea. And then take a photo of the great Batman, holding a tiny teacup, his pinky out. And send it to Selina, just to get a rise out of her.

 When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Jeez, would it kill you to lighten up?”

 “Probably not,” he answered, and was that a joke? A dry, bad one, but a joke nonetheless? Before she could follow up, he asked, “How is it?”

 “Let’s see, it’s been…a month?” Harley counted with her fingers, double checking. “A month. I made no moolah. I can’t take care of my babies like that.”

 “You are not taking care of those hyenas even if you made money.” Batman corrected and she pouted.

 “They’re my babies!”

 “Noted. I’ll cover your bills until you make enough.” Was he rich? Or did the JLA have some sort of ‘reform trust fund’? “How was job hunting?”

 “Gee, I wonder what responses you’d expect an ex-super criminal to get?” Harley asked, rolling her eyes as she laid down on the carpet. Stretching her arms above her, she waved her latest round of rejection letters. “I’m actually impressed by how many excuses I’ve heard—and I thought I was a great liar.”

 He took the letters without warning, flipping through them quickly.

 Surprised, she stared at him. “Ya know, reading someone’s letters a crime. I could get you thrown in jail.”

 His lips curved up, slightly, almost a laugh. If there was one thing Harley could take pride in, it was this: Batman had laughed at her jokes, not Mister J’s. Getting up, he headed to her window. “I’ll see what I can do. This is good effort so far.”

 And with that, he launched himself out of his window, without a bye or a see you later. Par the course. Did even his friends at the Justice League have to deal with this?

 “Good effort,” she muttered getting up. The thing people said to losers to make them feel better. Effort. When there was nothing else to compliment.

 Effort. She really shouldn’t like that word as much as she did.

v.                   A night

 Harley barely reacted when another presence landed on the roof next to her. Glancing to her side, she examined a girl dressed in black. There were obvious stitch marks in her batgirl outfit, making her look like a ragged doll.  “Are you all raised in barns?” Looking over her shoulder, she added, “No Nightwing or Robin this time?”

 “No.” Batgirl, or at least someone that looked like a Batgirl, shook her head, her accent thick and heavy. She paused before adding, “No to both questions.”

 Gah. Another serious one. At least Nightwing would play along sometimes. She leaned back on the rooftop, staring up at the night sky. “Say, do you have to be sneaky when you apply?”

 “Apply?” Batgirl asked, confused.

 “Apply to be a night terror.” When all she got was another blank look, she sighed and spoke plainly. “A ‘Batgirl’.”

 “No, but it helps.” Batgirl’s fingers automatically moved as she spoke, signing each word. Deaf? Mute? For someone else? “Why are you dressed like that?”

 “It makes great PJs.” Harley tugged at the edges of her villain costume, rubbing the sleeve against her cheek. “Do you know how much it cost to make this? I can’t just let it go to waste!”

 “I see,” she answered in a tone that clearly saw nothing.

 “I just like wearing it sometimes.” Harley shrugged. “Don’t you just do things cause you like ‘em?”

 Batgirl seemed to consider this for a few minutes before slowly nodding. “Recently, yes. Training.”

 “Training? Blech!” Harley grimaced. Boring, utterly boring. How was Batman raising them? Maybe Nightwing was a fluke? The rest of this batfamily seemed more serious by the generation. Still, they made the perfect straight man, if only she could get them into a comedy club with her.

 After a few minutes, Batgirl slowly said, “You can do this.”

 “Huh?” Harley pointed at herself. “You talking to me?”

 “There’s no one else here.” Batgirl cocked her head, double checking her surroundings. With a shrug, she turned back to Harley. “I was bad too, once.”

 “Oh?” Maybe the JLA really did have a reform trust fund. Though, if they expected her to join without some pay, they had another thing coming.

 “Yes.” Batgirl nodded again. “I was evil too. You can change.”

 It was strangely comforting.

 vi.                 Another attempt

“Alright.” Harley counted the coins in her bowl. $43.85 bucks. Not enough for rent, perhaps, but if she combined it with her waitress job, it could cover food at least. As nice as it was to have the goody two-shoes cover her bills, she need the independence. And less surveillance.

 “You’re funny!” A little girl shouted as she dropped another quarter into the bowl. $44.10 now. The girl skipped back to her mother, waving as she left.

 Honestly, busking wasn’t a bad gig at all. Maybe it didn’t pay as much as crime but it was almost as fun. Dressed as a clown, she performed acrobatic tricks in front of schools and train stations. Instead of screams, she got applause and cheers. And people said that you couldn’t transfer criminal skills.

 “Take that, Orange,” Harley muttered as she packed up. “‘Our company thinks your skills are not applicable to this position.’, my foot.”

 “It’s good to see you’re productive.”

 Harley stilled at the deep voice behind her. Peeking over her shoulders, she rubbed her eyes as she spotted the Batman. “Wait, are you even allowed to come out at day? Do you even exist in the day?”

 He didn’t dignify her questions with a response, instead holding out a letter. “For you?”

 “You a mailman now? And I thought I was down on my luck.” Taking it, she looked at the front and almost dropped it. “Bruce Wayne? What does he—”

 When she looked up, he was already gone. Puffing her cheeks, she shouted, “Why do you have worse manners than a villain!”

 vii.                A job

 “Why’re you’re still visiting me?” Harley asked when she opened her door only to find Batman once again perched on her couch. Maybe she should call him Birdman. “Bored?”

 “Think of it as post-care.” Another dry joke. He really did have a sense of humour, it was just hard to find.

 She dropped her bag on the floor and removed her coat. Despite the commute from the small town to her office, she’d kept the temporary apartment. Few tech, nice place, and best of all, empty roofs for her to leap around without worrying about some do-gooder or villain noticing. “So?”

 “Like the job?” he asked.

 “Does it matter?” When he stared at her, she relented. “Fiinnee. It’s good enough. I mean, no one really wants to be a psychiatrist to make ads, but whatever.” Rubbing her chin, she added, “Though, maybe I should have just kidnapped Bruce Wayne when he interviewed me. He’s rich, a single ransom and I’m living the high life.”

 “High life in jail, perhaps,” Batman added dryly.

 She wasn’t sure if he meant it as a joke or a threat. Probably the latter. It was hard to tell with this guy.  Brushing it off, she slowly stalked forward to him. “So, I was wondering…”

 “No.” Point blank, without room for argument.

 Harley bristled. “Hey! I didn’t even ask yet!”

 Batman gave her a blank stare. “Hyenas are not pets.”

 “They were my pets,” Harley mumbled, glowering at him. “My babies. I bet they miss me.” When he didn’t answer, she crowed, “I knew it! They do miss mama!”

 “…I’ll consider visitation rights,” he muttered.

 A start, perhaps. But Batman didn’t know exactly how persistent she was. Within the week, she’d have her babies.

[emilyplaysotome]

Chapter 6 - Friendnapped

Catch up on Chapter 1 - 5 here! (or just Chapter 5)

It’s never pleasant seeing an ex move on, especially when you’re not entirely sure that you want your ex to be an ex in the first place. Compounded with the fact that his new girlfriend was everything that I wasn’t caused every fiber in my being to want to flee. 

Thankfully, my legs refused to listen.

Instead I stood frozen and watched as she accepted his hand (one that dwarfed her own) and he helped her stand tall once more in a way that reminded me of how he had been there for me. She was far more feminine than I’ve ever been in my life, with a slender frame that complimented Zyglavis’ more androgynous features. Standing next to her, he looked like the God he was in a way that he never did by my side - proud, masculine, and strong.

I forced myself to stay present, assuming that the king was rooting for me to run from such an unpleasant scene, giving him the upper hand when it came to Zyglavis’ new life in this world. At the moment, sharing a kiss with the man I had assumed I’d share my life with only a few weeks ago seemed impossible but I did my best to stay strong in face of adversity.

Instead of running away I apologized further, introducing myself to both of them and handing the woman my business card in an attempt to prove to her that I was a normal, capable woman and not some crazy person off the street.

“Really,” I said again, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok,” she said in a tone that was far less aggravated than the one taken during our initial exchange.

“Please, allow me to pay for your dry cleaning or something.”

“No, it’s fine I…”

“Thea, you should take her up on it,” Zyglavis said sternly.

“Thea?”

“Yes, sorry. I didn’t say my name did I? And this is…”

“Zyglavis.”

He said his name flatly, barely looking me in the eyes. His gaze was firmly on Thea and I assumed as a result that he was checking to see if she was alright. I knew Zyg long enough to know that he could be a bit of a worrywart when it came to the object of his affection, and I could feel the muscles in my chest constrict as it sank in that he might never worry about me in that way again.

Thea tucked a strand of her long, jet black hair behind her ear and with a similarly cold expression noted, “Well, I suppose. Naomi was it?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you Naomi, that’s very kind. Most New Yorkers probably wouldn’t even offer.”

“Oh that’s not true,” I said with a forced smile. “We get a bad rap but we’re actually a lovely group of people.”

Zyglavis kept glancing behind him at the hostess inside and each time he did I could feel my new reality sinking in. 

He and his new girlfriend (a clear upgrade when compared to his last), were going to have a nice dinner and here I was keeping them from it. Seeing him again reminded me of how much I missed him - a fact that the chaos of the past few days had distracted me from.

I missed my best friend. Zyglavis had been a loyal, kind man who was always there for me no matter the circumstance. He was a man who could sometimes be too strict and slightly too grumpy, but underneath it all always had my best interests at heart.

For a moment, everything seemed incredibly surreal and I almost felt as if any second he and this woman would laugh and tell me the past week was all a shitty joke. I wanted so desperately to go back to what was instead of what is, but I knew that I had no choice in the matter once the hostess popped her head outside and called, “Ziggy? Table for 2?”

“We will be in shortly,” he said politely to the hostess, and then with a sigh addressed Thea. “Ziggy? Really?”

She giggled and for the first time I saw how beautiful and blinding her smile was, “I couldn’t resist.”

Zyg shook his head and before she could run away I exchanged contact information with Thea under the guise that I would follow up with her in regards to the cost of her dry cleaning. I then was forced to watch him hold the door for her as they went inside - not once did he even so much as glance back at me.

I stood there dumbstruck for a moment and once I was certain that I was alone again, a maelstrom of emotion hit me with such strength that I was not only caught off guard but found myself rushing to a trash can nearby and vomiting into it. I never thought I was capable of something as dramatic as becoming physically ill over seeing an ex, but the king’s trials always managed to surprise me.

It shouldn’t have taken a meddling king for me to understand what I had with Zyglavis, but far too often we take someone for granted until they’re gone. For ten years of my life I lived having friendships, but never having someone who I could call my own. I never experienced having someone who was able to be there for me the way that Zyglavis always was and now that he was gone I felt adrift. 

Looking back he had constantly been present in the sense that my apartment was always taken care of, and at the end of every difficult work week he’d bring back chocolates made especially for me, as a small token of his love and appreciation for the life we forged together in this world. He was always up for listening to my problems and for laughing at my funny stories or holding me during the difficult ones.

He was a best friend in a way I’d never experienced with anyone else, and even though he proved to be more imperfect than I ever thought an otome man would be, that made him and the relationship all the more real.

By the time I was back at Meg’s I was a certifiable mess with runny mascara, tinged with the faint smell of vomit. I planned to hop in the shower and then to try and pack my things in order to distract myself from what Thea and Zyglavis might be doing together, but when I opened the door I soon realized that I was not alone.

“Omi? What the hell happened to you?”

Meg was standing in the foyer of her apartment hanging her light spring coat up in the closet. Down the hall, I saw her away bag on the floor of the living room and figured she had just gotten back.

“I thought you were coming home tomorrow?”

“I was, but I missed New York and my parents were driving me nuts.”

“Oh. Welcome back. Are you doing ok?”

Meg shrugged and it was clear that my friend and I were in similarly messy places. Even though she hadn’t been gone long I knew her well enough to see that she wasn’t sleeping. On top of that she appeared a good deal thinner than when she’d left and having gotten her through a previous breakup in college, I was well aware of the fact that she didn’t eat when she was stressed or upset.

She crinkled her nose and straightforwardly blurted, “Omi - why do you smell like vomit?”

If I hadn’t had such a difficult day, I don’t think I would have told Meg the truth in that moment. I think I would have made something up or vaguely addressed bumping into Zyglavis but for whatever reason I found myself saying, “You know me well enough to know that I’m not a liar, right?”

Meg shot me a curious look and nodded, leading me to the living room and prompting me to tell her the whole story - the real story. 

I watched as she looked on skeptically as I spoke, occasionally clarifying that I “really believed” that I had gone to the world of my “weird anime games” but ultimately let me tell my tale. I knew how far fetched it must have all seemed to her, but when I got to the part about the games not working, I pulled up the facebook posts as well as old screenshots from Zyglavis’ route that fans had posted online.

It was then that Meg’s disbelief started to wane (in addition to the fact that in all of our many years of friendship I’d never once misled her in any way and I had no tangible reason to concoct such a strange story now). She pulled up a photo she had on her phone of all of us from a few months back (before her breakup or mine) and compared the man by my side to the cartoon man from the post.

“Holy shit.”

“I never told you any of this because, well - I know it’s pretty unbelievable and…”

“There’s more?”

“Well..I was afraid you’d judge me if you knew that I chose to be with a cartoon character from a game. I mean how many years did I watch you guys…and now…”

Meg quickly cut me off, “And now we’re both in shambles thanks to two dudes. Doesn’t get more real than that even if he started as a cartoon character.” 

“His new girlfriend is stupid pretty,” I complained.

Meg hesitated for a moment as she sank dejectedly into her couch and said in a quiet voice, “You know, I didn’t tell you guys this but Noah broke up with me for some chick he works with.”

“What?”

Meg scoffed, “Yeah. If you didn’t already smell like barf I’d have us doing shots or some shit.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because it hurts more knowing that he gets to be happy and I have to be hurt.”

“I’m sorry Meg…”

I could see that Meg was trying to be strong as she fought back tears, biting her lower lip in an attempt to stay in control of her emotional state. I always considered her someone who was pretty tough and resilient and as a result, seeing her in this state amplified the hurt that I was already feeling. She sniffled and tried to shake off her tears as she focused on my problems over hers.

“So wait - this asshole…the king? He just showed up and ruined your relationship?”

“Well, I mean I kinda had a hand in it too. I started to take Zyg for granted and…”

“But you didn’t even get a chance to work it out right?”

“No.”

“Fuck that. And fuck his new girlfriend - if you want him, you’re going to get him back.”

I loved the fact that even though Meg was heartbroken, she was still so angry on my behalf.

“I don’t know,” I said skeptically. “The king said I’ve got to win all my ex cartoon men back and right now 3 are unaccounted for, the one I want most has moved on, another tried to mug me, and the last one I have a date with in a couple of days. The odds are not in my favor.”

“Nah, fuck that noise. We’re New Yorkers - when the going gets tough we’re used to it because so are we.”

“You are maybe…”

“No I’m a mess, but I”m still going to help you. We’ll find your cartoon men and at least one of us will get to live happily ever after, ok?”

“Meg…”

“You’re gonna make me cry if you look at me like that and you still smell like puke so go shower and we’ll come up with a plan after.”

“Meg…”

“Omi! I swear!”

I knew Meg didn’t want to cry but I couldn’t help myself from doing so. Not only did she believe me (or at least was being kind enough to pretend that she did), but she said she’d help me. 

I was immediately brought back to that day during the Revance tweeter takeover where I fantasized about having my friends’ support as I made my final decision on who I wanted to bring back to this world. For the past few days I’d reminded of what it was to be on my own once more and how it felt to have to do everything by myself and bear that burden alone.

Now, thanks to Meg’s generosity I would have a partner in crime and I owed her one for it.

I returned to the living room freshly showered and vomit free, and took out my notebook re-creating a space in Meg’s living room similar to the one in Zyglavis’ bedroom way back when. I even told her about my operation GTFO area and with a dry laugh she noted that was “a very Naomi thing to do”.

Meg also set up a few online profiles in order to help me in my search, and talked me through the fact that we had eyes on 3 of the 6 men. Toshi and Jin were completely MIA and the mystery suitor of mine was most likely not Shunichiro. Meg had me make a list of every otome man I’d met who potentially carried a flame for me during my time down the rabbit hole and when I handed her what felt like a reasonable list based on the information I had, she smirked and noted, “Girl, get it.”

“You don’t understand what it was like - they’re all programmed to want you when you’re the MC.”

“I mean, I’ve seen Zyg so I have a pretty good idea of what this world is like. Perhaps you can take me with you next time,” she joked. “In the meantime, I’ll look out for these names as I swipe and you should call the switchboard to see if Jin is NYPD.”

“Ok…thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was a moment where I paused and Meg looked at me with a skeptical expression, “What?”

“You do believe me, don’t you?”

“I mean...do…ish. You have to understand, I can’t really wrap my head around -”

There was a bright light that filled the room, in addition to the sound of a snap and a familiar presence that caused Meg to practically jump out of her seat. The king glared at me, and with a chuckle I found myself muttering, “speak of the devil.”

As I once had, I glanced over and saw Meg struggle to accept the reality of how crazy it all was. It was strange to see my typically eloquent friend stammer next to me, but it was all short lived as the king snapped his fingers for a second time, causing Meg’s eyes to glaze over and her stammers to fade. My friend would have a hard time not believing my story once she returned from her catatonic state, and with a sigh I knew that I’d done something that prompted an IRL visit from the king versus a cheeky text.

“Well I see that you’re up to your old tricks,” the king snapped. “The agreement was that you were able to find them and romance them - not that you’d have help.”

“I don’t believe the issue of having help or not was ever stipulated in your terms and conditions,” I snapped back. “And I hardly have the home court advantage considering what I’ve seen the past couple of days.”

“What have you seen? He was always a criminal - even in my world, was he not?”

“Yes but -“

“And that didn’t stop you the first time around, now did it?”

“It absolutely did stop me!”

“Mmmm tomato tahmahtoe,” he said flippantly with a smile, and I realized that as much as I was a thorn in his side, the king was clearly enjoying himself.

He tossed his long silvery hair back and with an unreadable, etherial smile paced before me as he considered what having an ally in this world might do to his game. It was obvious that I was one of the few people who was capable of throwing curveballs his way and as much as it annoyed him, he obviously relished how unpredictable his life was when I was in it.

“Well,” he said finally, “I guess we’ll do this.” 

He snapped his fingers and Meg disappeared from the couch beside me.

“You’ll get her back once you’ve found them all on your own. I think that’s more than fair. Very generous in fact!”

“That’s not fair at all! You can’t do that you -“

The king threw back his head and laughed, “Oh Naomi. You silly, silly girl - haven’t you realized? I can do whatever I want. You’re lucky I’m even letting you play in the first place.”

And with that, he snapped his fingers and left me all alone once more.

Chapter 7

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