#finally got around to redoing this! this time i tried to get rid of the y6 green tint instead of trying to replicate it on the gifs from 3

[bother-blame]

KIRYU KAZUMA AND SHIMABUKURO RIKIYA | KIRYU KAZUMA AND USAMI YUTA

[frosted-hyacinth]

When you have a bad day

Feat. rin itoshi Tags. fluff cw. none, i think (if there are any, please let me know)

        "I'm home, Rin!" You yelled but to no response, you assumed he was asleep or something of the sort. You toke off your shoes, jacket and scarf as you entered your home, all you wanted to do was run to your room and fall asleep on your bed. After all that had happened today, first, on your way to work, your clothes getting absolutely soaked by a car that had accidentally ran through a puddle —a puddle large enough to be a full sized pool in your opinion. Once you'd finally arrived at work and turned on your laptop, it decided to shut down on you, getting rid of all the important information you had as drafts on that laptop which you would now have to redo. Now to top it all off, a bird pooped on your shoes while you were walking home. When you got out of bed, it was snowing, so you thought it'd be a good day but it turned out to be the opposite. You sighed at the memories of what had happened today.         "Negativity be gone! We're home now! Nothing worse can happen now!" You whispered then slapped yourself on the cheeks encouragingly, trying to rid yourself of all the thoughts that you had of your work day and trying to focus on cuddles with your lover. Something that would always make your day better. These thoughts weren't wanted by you or Rin, but you knew they would be engraved on your mind all week but it still probably would have made its way into your thoughts, haunting you for some time.                   As you wobbled into your bed room, you paused. A sleeping figure laid in your bed, the shock slowly reaching your head, finally processing that that was Rin. You didn't want to wake him up so silently changed clothes which had went perfectly well, no sounds at all, other than the light sounds of the fabric moving around. All that was left for you to do was get in bed it couldn't go that wrong, could it? You crept onto the mattress and sat on as softly as possible. It was at that moment that life once again decided to screw you over, making the bed creek just as loudly as it could making the boy roll over to face you, eyes now open.          "Welcome home." Rin said dully, before reaching for you, trying to pull you in with him in the bed, expecting cuddles after work. Internally crying at this cute gesture, slid in the blankets, engulfing him into a huge hug and resting your head on the crook of his neck, taking deep breaths and inhaling the scent of his cologne. Unknowingly, you had started to silently mutter your day to Rin's ears, his eyes widened a little bit at the absurdities of what had happened but it was nothing that you'd notice. His hand travelled to your back, patting it lightly in attempts of comforting you —the one who was on the verge of tears and was sniffing at the amount of bad luck you had today.          Oh god, Rin was panicking now, the water works were actually coming out now, the wetness of the tears staining his shirt, he could think of nothing to do, so he just sat there sitting quietly, his hand still repeatedly patting you back. He leaned his chin against your head, trying to lull you to sleep, away from all your bad thoughts until eventually, it worked. You had fallen asleep, curled up in his arms, no longer crying .          He looked at you, smiling and wiping he remaining tears from you cheeks. Keeping his arms around you, he put his head back on your chin and closed his eyes to fall asleep beside you, making sure that nothing could hurt you anymore.

this isn't the best and it isn't the longest. but. i love rin so i tried making a fic for him _(;з)∠)_

[vexerieart]

The Lords in Black and their obsession with wants

I've already had the theory of tgwdlm and how it relates to wants, but NPMD takes it to a whole new level. The Lords in Black are obsessed with wants. This is easily show within the Lords in Black song, specifically the:

"whatever we want we want we want whatever we want we get, whatever you want you want you want forever in our debt!"

This line is super interesting. It even stuck out to me the first time I watched it. Once you get your want, you are indebted to the lords in black. It's a 'I scratch your back you scratch mine' scenario. And we have seen it before!

Pokey - Once you get your want within tgwdlm, that is the seal to your death. I could go into a whole in depth theory here, I have on in my google drive, but I will keep it shorter than that here. Paul originally wanted a black coffee, which we knew wasn't his actual want, and the hive tried to provide that with CORC/COPC and that would've been it, but Paul actually wants Emma and he gets the promise of Emma after the helicopter crash and gets her officially in Inevitable. Emma wanted a pot farm and to not die in hatchetfield, and to finally see paul. She got all three. Ted wanted to screw around with another man's wife and he definitely did that. Bull wanted his daughter. Charlotte wanted to be wanted/loved. They all got it and they all died. TLDR is that once anyone admitted to their want in tgwdlm, they would get it and proceed to die. It was a game of chess. Also the line "What do you want, Steph?" that is a clear mirror to TGWDLM- GOD!

Wiggly - He focuses on the want for more than you have; the want of happiness and to fill those holes. Everyone wants that, but it's more prominent in adults within Black Friday. In exchange for those holes to be filled, you give him power. You give him the means to escape and be free in your world, but you don't know that. Nothing comes free in Hatchetfield, and it isn't just the simple price of 49.95. You're in his debt.

Tinky - The want to change the Past. In exchange he drives you to insanity, satisfying his sadistic needs. Once again, not that you know that. But there is always a price to pay for a redo in time.

Nibbly - The want for Power. Not only does Roman literally channel his power from Nibbly, but it is also shown in the Honey Queen Festival itself. Anyone who ends up being sacrificed to Nibbly was hungry for power, but instead of you getting it, Roman does and it ends your life as your soul gets devoured.

Blinky - The want for knowledge / to see all. This one you might be confused by. Alice wants to be at the party and to know that her girlfriend isn't cheating on her, and the one thing holding her back is her father. Meanwhile, Bill wants to know what is going on in Alice's life so he can have a closer relationship to her. The debt that must be paid for blinky is complete corruption of your mind, as you lose sight over what is truly important. It's a game for him.

Once you have gotten what you have wanted from the lords, committed your trade, there is always a major sacrifice. But for stuff like Grace's situation, it also opens up a new door for the lords. The ability to gain valuable resources/people to serve them. Grace was such an easy person to manipulate to serve her want, to rid the world of dirty dudes, while also serving their want. The want to feed on others souls so they can wreck havoc on the world when the time comes.

[h0rr0rsaxo]

hi there! I got an idea!! (this includes one of my proxies that I haven't used much yet...so if you have questions lmk!)

So Tony decides to take some free time and go to a bar for some downtime. The particular bar he's going to has boxing matches, so that's the added entertainment and he decided to go and watch a few matches. What he doesn't expect is to see Anni boxing with Silva and Tony becomes a simp. He can see the tattoo that he was working on, on Anni's back and almost feels a sense of pride at seeing his work on her body, shes also in tight athletic wear and Tony finally gets a little glimpse at what Anni meant when she said she was a proxy. Silva is really good at boxing, but luckily they have gloves on and can't beat each other up too much but still enough to where you can break some skin so Anni has a busted lip and a little bloody noise but it looks like she's having fun and they both are grinning at each other and laughing while everyone else is cheering for one or the other. In the end, Silva does win and almost knocks Anni out with a hit to the temple but Anni gets up and Silva makes sure she's okay and Anni finds Tony at the bar and he is blushing and simping so hard whereas Anni is just going off of the adrenaline rush that she just got from the match and just talking to him happily, even with her busted lip and bloody nose!

(Feel free to ask questions, add or change anything! Tysm!!!)

[ special surprise. || simp party. ]

Warnings: Slight violence, Tony being friendzoned constantly.

Tags: @insane-horror-movie-addict

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD! I somewhat blacked out while writing this...I'm super sorry if this isn't readable, I'll redo it later if needed--

Word count: 2,162

Tony had been looking forward to a night out for weeks, and the bar with the boxing matches seemed like the perfect place to relax and unwind. As he walked in, the sounds of cheering and shouting filled the air, and he could feel the energy of the crowd pulsing through him. He found a spot near the ring, ordered a drink, and settled in to watch the matches. The fights were intense, with the boxers throwing punches and dodging blows with skill and precision. Tony was completely absorbed in the action, shouting and cheering along with the rest of the crowd.But then, something caught his eye. In one of the matches, he saw a figure that looked familiar. As the boxers circled each other, Tony realized with a shock that it was someone he knew - the same girl who had come to him for a tattoo just a few weeks ago.

There were so many people watching, so many people cheering. And who was standing in front of him? Yes, Anni. It was at that moment that he finally realized that what he had decided to watch was not for not just his entertainment, but everyone else's as well. His mouth became dry and his nerves jumbled in the pit of his stomach as his eyes trailed her. But he wasn't completely offset by the situation. It looked like a lot of fun, and with the smiles coming from the girls boxing around for the amusement of the crowd they still seemed to have a good time. Tony tried to get rid of the annoying nerves in his body, his hands rubbing on her arms to comfort him— but he couldn't help but let his eyes trail alongside Anni's figure.

As the match continued, Tony couldn't take his eyes off of her. He watched as she moved with grace and power, her muscles rippling with each punch and dodge. And then, as she turned to face her opponent, Tony saw it - the tattoo that he had worked so hard on, etched onto her back in intricate detail. He felt a surge of pride and excitement, knowing that his art was now a part of the action in the ring. But as the match wore on, Tony found himself becoming more and more distracted by Anni's presence. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her, watching as she fought with a fierce determination that seemed to radiate from every inch of her body.

As the match between Anni and Silva continued, the crowd grew more and more excited. Silva was a skilled boxer, with years of training and experience under his belt. But Anni was holding her own, moving with agility and speed that surprised everyone watching. As the two fighters traded blows, Tony could see the impact of their punches, even through the gloves. Anni's lip was starting to swell, and there was a trickle of blood running down her nose. But she didn't seem to mind - in fact, she was grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying herself despite the pain. Silva was equally focused, her eyes fixed on Anni as she threw punch after punch. But Silva wasn't trying to hurt her - Tony could see that she was holding back, using just enough force to make the match exciting without causing serious injury.

And then, in a split second, everything changed. Silva landed a hard hit to Anni's temple, and she stumbled, her eyes rolling back in her head. For a moment, it looked like she might be knocked out cold. But then, with a groan, Anni started to stir. She blinked a few times, looking dazed and disoriented. Silva rushed over, concern etched on her face, and helped Anni to her feet. Tony could see that Anni was a little shaky, but she seemed to be all right.

"Come on Anni! Don't let her take you down, you're tougher than that!" Anni's ears perked at the sound of a familiar voice calling out to her. Yes, the woman was now skillfully punching the shit out of her and nearly had her pinned. Everybody counted to the seconds of how long she was pinned down for, and Anni knew that if they counted to five it would most likely be over.

She gave Silva a weak smile, and the two of them embraced, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened. As the crowd cheered and applauded, Tony couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with the two fighters. They had put on an incredible show, displaying skill and sportsmanship in equal measure. And in the end, it was clear that both Anni and Silva had come away with a newfound respect for each other - and for the sport that they loved.

After the match, Anni was feeling exhilarated - her heart was still racing from the adrenaline rush of the fight. She spotted Tony at the bar and made her way over to him, still grinning from ear to ear. Tony, on the other hand, was completely starstruck. He had been watching Anni in the ring, marveling at her skill and determination, and now here she was, standing right in front of him. He could hardly believe it. As Anni approached, Tony felt himself blushing and simping uncontrollably. He could see the busted lip and bloody nose that she had sustained during the match, and he couldn't help but feel a little bit worried for her.

But Anni seemed completely unfazed by her injuries. She was still talking animatedly about the match, describing the thrill of being in the ring and the rush of adrenaline that she had experienced.

Tony listened raptly, hanging on every word that Anni spoke.

Anni had just finished a tough boxing match, and she was feeling exhilarated. She had won the fight, and the adrenaline was still pumping through her veins. She made her way to the bar to meet up with some friends, and that's when she saw Tony.

Tony was sitting at the bar, leaning in a little too close to Anni, and he had a sly smile on his face. "Hey there, champ," he said, his voice dripping with flirtation.

Anni smiled back at him, but she didn't pick up on his hints. "Thanks, Tony. I couldn't have done it without you," she said, admiring the tattoo he had given her on her shoulder.

Tony pouted playfully. "Oh, come on, Anni. You're making me blush. Can I buy you a drink to celebrate your victory?"

Anni nodded, grateful for the offer. "Sure, thanks. I'll have a beer," she said, settling onto a stool beside him.

As Tony ordered their drinks, he couldn't help but flirt with Anni some more. "You know, Anni, I've been watching you fight for a while now, and I have to say, you're pretty amazing," he said, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

Anni blushed a little at the compliment, but she didn't think much of it. "Thanks, Tony. I've been working hard at it," she said, taking a sip of her beer.

Tony leaned in even closer, his lips almost brushing against Anni's ear. "You know, Anni, I think you're amazing in more ways than one," he whispered, his tone low and seductive.

Anni turned to look at him, confused. "What do you mean, Tony?" she asked, oblivious to his flirting.

Tony chuckled, realizing that Anni wasn't picking up on his hints. "Nevermind, Anni. Let's just enjoy our drinks," he said, taking a sip of his own beer.

As they chatted and laughed, Tony couldn't help but continue to flirt with Anni, even though she didn't seem to be catching on. But he didn't mind too much; he enjoyed her company, and he was happy to be there to celebrate her victory with her. He couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for her - not just for her boxing skills, but for her confidence and fearlessness in the face of danger. As they continued to talk and found themselves even walking outside as they spoke, Tony found himself becoming extremely immersed into the convo with the hot woman— who could blame him? This was a hot proxy woman that he was practically head over heels for!

"Man, if I were you, I probably would have tapped out immediately," Tony laughed a bit.

"Where's the fun in that?" Anni asked and she shook her head. As she managed to pull her eyes away from him, she noticed how many more people were out versus how many walked during the daytime.

"Wow, there's so many more people out here at night." Anni didn't realize that the two were already walking towards the main street strip.

"You know what they say, all the freaks come out at night..." Tony said with a bit of distaste and was already on the lookout for anything unusual around them. The last thing he wanted was some asshole to ruin their night.

"So where are we going exactly? I mean, there are a lot of bars out here to go to..." Anni asked as she stared at the overflowed bars all over the streets.

"One-Eyed Jacks." Tony said and his arm rose with a pointed finger, "I hear it's one of the best bars round these parts. After that show, you have to let me buy you a drink, it was amazing." Tony attempted to throw hints at her that he was flirting with her— but Anni's oblivious nature obviously didn't pick up on the hints he was shoving in her face. Anni stared down the insanely packed roadways and managed to see the huge, glowing sign on the left hand side of the street. It had a large skull with an eye-patch over one eye like some sort of pirate flag. It didn't seem to be as packed as any of the other bars, but obviously drew in the more interesting people.

"You wanna go there?" She heard Tony asked and noticed that he was staring at her. Anni nodded,

"Yeah, the place looks like a lot of fun!" She smiled back at him. Tony led Anni through the immensity of people, keeping a close eye on her just in case some drunken asshole wanted to cop a feel. She loyally followed him closely and eyed all the people around her, almost everyone clad in black leather. As they entered the establishment, cackles and bellows filled the room's space and flooded Anni's ears. Everyone seemed like they were having a wonderful time with each other. And for the first time in a while, she didn't sense any hostility amongst the band of happy bikers.

"Here, sit down." Tony offered an empty bar stool at a tall table. Anni hopped up on the stool and rested her elbows on the wooden table, watching Tony take a seat across from her. In no moment at all, a waitress was already at their table side. As they talked, Tony found himself struggling to keep his composure. He was so overwhelmed by Anni's presence that he could hardly think straight. But Anni seemed to be completely at ease, chatting happily and laughing despite the pain she must have been feeling. In the end, Tony realized that he didn't need to be nervous or self-conscious around Anni. She was just a regular person, like him, with her own strengths and weaknesses. And as he listened to her talk, he felt a sense of connection and admiration that was deeper than any fleeting crush or infatuation.

"So, Anni, you were really killing it out there today, I know I keep saying that, but it's true! I know veryone in the crowd agreed with me." Tony said, a sly smile on his face. "I couldn't help but notice how amazing you look in those workout clothes."

Anni smiled back at him, but she didn't pick up on his flirtatious tone. "Thanks, Tony. I've been working really hard at my fitness routine."

Tony pouted playfully. "Oh, Anni, you're breaking my heart. Can't a guy give a girl a compliment these days without being accused of flirting?"

Anni laughed, still oblivious to Tony's intentions. "Of course, you can! I appreciate the compliment, Tony. You're such a good friend."

Tony's smile faltered a little at the mention of the word "friend," but he didn't let it show. "Yeah, of course, Anni. Friends can compliment each other, right?" As they chatted and joked, Tony continued to flirt with Anni, but she remained oblivious. She talked about her work, her hobbies, and her goals, and Tony listened intently, sipping on his drink as he smiled at her.

"So, Anni, have you ever thought about going out with me sometime?" Tony asked, taking a chance.

Anni looked at him, surprised. "Of course! You don't even need to be all formal, we're good friends!" His smile faltered as his eyebrows narrowed at this small, completely oblivious woman.

She was driving him insane.

[cursingtoji]

October 21st - Degradation

College AU Light Yagami x f!reader

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 Why cry over your breakup when you can cry over Light Yagami’s cock? ┊ tags: Minors DNI, Degradation, name calling (slut, whore), sixty-nine, oral, light spanking, spitting, squirting ┊ wc: 2.2k

The first day back to college after your breakup was harsh. The bastard had to break up with you on a Friday hadn’t he? The entire weekend you spent crying and having absolute garbage to eat, but you couldn’t allow yourself to skip classes, so you dragged yourself through that day, finally getting to the last class of that cursed monday, late because you had to get a coffee to keep you awake, hair being a complete mess that you tried to tie into a bun, face bare from any makeup, puffy eyes and darker eyebags than ever before.

“Damn, you look like shit” your friend whispered when you sat next to her after calling the attention of half of the class when you dropped your phone.

“Thank you, Misa. Coincidentally that’s exactly how I feel” you murmured trying to find your notes from the previous class.

In the middle of your unorganization you failed to notice Light Yagami, your tutor for that class, glancing your way from the desk next to yours, anyone would just assume he was bored from the way he rested his chin on his palm.

What no one seemed to notice was the anger building inside him at how you looked. The way you let an asshole like that guy ruin you was unacceptable, Light knew from the very first moment he saw you hands locked on the hallways: your boyfriend could never deserve someone like you. The way you would often wear revealing clothes and clingy to him not getting even a side glance or acknowledgment of your effort for dressing up.

He was thrilled when he heard you two broke up.

Finally!

But it wasn’t until that moment he understood the decision to break up came from that piece of shit. You should’ve been happy there was no one holding you back anymore, instead he couldn’t believe his eyes at the sight of the mess you became.

You tried your best to focus on the subject but it all seemed impossible to enter your brain, that was the subject you had the hardest time with, that’s why you asked for Light to tutor you in the beginning of the semester. As the class ended you wondered if it was even worth it to attend the classes for the rest of the week.

The sound of a throat being cleared behind you caught your attention just when you finished packing your things.

“Light” you murmured his name, face warming at the embarrassment of him being dressed up so well while you were on your joggers and a shirt.

“Don’t forget our session today”.

Shit.

That hasn't even crossed your mind due to the recent events.

Light has been a great tutor so far, he’s so patient with you and so smart, sometimes you even forgot you were committed when you were around him, both of you casually flirting but always stopping before things scalate. In the back of your mind you always had a thing for him, the way he demanded you to redo a question you got wrong, or when he scolded you for not paying attention, the small table you used to study with him covering the sight of you unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“Sorry, Light, I'm not on my right mind for that today” you adjusted the strap of your bag ready to leave the classroom.

It was only the two of you in the back of the room as the others were leaving, but as soon as you turned your back to your tutor, he grabbed your arm and caged you on the wall, arm resting above your head as he looked down at you.

“Listen, I won't allow you to waste any more time crying over that moron. You should be celebrating for getting rid of him. I bet he couldn’t even pleasure you right,” you looked away, only confirming his suspicions, his snort making your face heat up, “Really? Please,” he took your jaw forcing you to stare him in the eye, “You should be with someone that know how to pleases you like the whore you are” the degrading term brough goosebumps to your spine, your ex had never called you that, or any other thing for that matter, never getting creative on the bed. You would be lying if you said you ended up satisfied every time you slept together.

“Light—” you whispered softly, eyes looking up at him like you were asking him for more.

“Come” he stepped back, removing his arm from the wall and picking your bag.

“What? Where?” you followed him since he already had your bag.

“To your place, you wanted me…” he walked ahead leaving the classroom, “Now you have me”.

You looked around on the way to leave campus, ready to do whatever he told you to, however the sight you came across made you stop on your tracks.

That disgusting man you called your love not 3 days ago was already with an arm thrown on a random girl’s shoulder smiling and talking to her exactly like he used to do with you.

“He couldn’t even wait could he” you murmured to yourself, now being more angry than sad.

“Poor girl” Light replied when you hadn't even noticed he was at your side looking at the same scene as you, “Don’t worry, after we are done you won’t even remember his name” he whispered making you stare dumbfounded at him.

Soon you two were inside his car, you always walked to the campus so having the comfort of a vehicle to take you home was a nice change. Light already knew your address since you asked him to come tutor you at your place several times, paying him back with meals or desserts, he never accepted your money anyways.

“Thank you, Light” you looked through the window to not have to stare him in the eye, hands playing with your hair in an attempt to settle your rebel locks down.

“For what?”

“For… helping me get over him” he remained in silence for a couple of seconds while reverse parking on the street of your building, you watched his sharp jawline when he looked back. Light was truly handsome, no wonder most of girls on campus wanted him to tutor them too.

As soon as he turned the engine off you cleared your throat and reached to open the door, not before Light held your wrist stopping you.

“I want to be clear with you about what is about to happen” he was now much closer to your face, dark eyes staring at you like a wolf looking at a bunny, “I won’t go all soft and lovely with you, so don’t expect this, if you feel like it’s too much to handle say the word Shinigami and I’ll stop” you were so hypnotized by his calm tone you haven’t even questioned his choice of a safe word, “Understood?” you nodded, never taking your eyes off his, “Good, come here” he roughly grabbed your jaw pulling you closer to smash his lips on yours.

Even before the breakup you were barely kissed by your ex boyfriend, like he had no interest in doing so. Yet there was Light, not afraid to hold your face or explore the inside of your mouth with his hot tongue, the sudden attention being so overwhelming you couldn't help but to moan on his lips, by the time he pulled away you didn't even realize you were clenching his shirt.

The way from his car to your bedroom flashed, soon enough Light had you laid on your bed, pulling your pants down your legs while you wiggled your hips, when it was finally out you brought him back to your lips by his red tie making him fall over you.

“Needy bitch” he cursed, kissing back and biting your lip only stopping to lift your shirt while you unbuttoned his, “Sit up” he ordered pulling you panties and let it go making it slap against your skin, you sat up while he laid down on his back opening his belt and lowering his pants.

The sight of your handsome tutor laying on your red sheets with his white dress shirt open to reveal a defined abdomen you didn't expect to see and cock springing free while he stroked it had you salivating.

“Take it all off” you complied, removing your bra and underwear.

Light repositioned you to have your thighs on the sides of his head while you faced his length in a classic sixty nine position.

“Look at this sloppy hole, how’s long it’s been since you had someone sucking you?” his hot breath on your folds only making you clench over nothing before screaming when he pinched your clit.

“Light, please” you begged, wrapping your hand around the cock right in front of your face.

“You’re talking too much, let’s put that useless mouth to good use” the hand that wasn’t rubbing your clit in between his fingers held your neck making you lower your mouth on him, “See? Much better” he kept holding your head to help your bobbing movements.

Lips finally meeting your heat in a soft making out session with your pussy, too good you couldn't even focus on your task until he slapped your ass with no mercy.

“Deeper” he forced you a little lower making you gag on his cock, “Obedient little slut, just how i like it” he let go of your head to hold your hips inserting two fingers in you, lips sucking your sensible nub along.

Light’s cock was definitely bigger than your ex’s, something you could never gag on like you were doing right now, saliva running down your chin and chest.

His fingers started to pump you faster, tongue flicking your clit. With his cock so deep down your throat you could only moan directly into it and scratch your nails on his thigh.

The knot on your tummy not taking long to dissolve in a mind blowing orgasm, the pace of his fingers not slowing down, Light actually added a third finger stretching you mid-orgasm and curling them to massage your sweet spot.

“Light!” you let go his cock to scream when he keep going, holding your hips, not allowing you to back away from his stimulation.

���Shut up and take it” your back arched even more when he sucked your clit again, this time harder, a different sensation building up on you while you sobbed his name.

It seemed like another climax, but when Light spanked your ass again you came all over him squirting your liquids on his face and mouth.

“Only a few minutes with me and you even squirt? How desperate can one be?” Light helped you roll over, heavy breathing and dizzy headed.

He finished getting rid of his dress shirt while watching your weary form.

“What? Don’t me a dirty slut like you is already dumb fucked” he held your face making you open your mouth spiting and watching it slide down your throat, “We are far from being done here” he lifted your limp arms to tie your hands to the poles of your headboard with the same red tie you were tugging before.

You looked up realizing he really made it impossible for you to move your arms. Light stood up to grab a condom rolling it over his length slowly, only then noticing the moons you dug on his thighs along with short scratches.

“You like marking, huh?” he lowered to pick something from the floor and your eyes widened when you noticed the folded belt on his hands, “What’s the safe word again?” he gave an experimental spank with the belt on your calf.

“Shinigami” you replied, his hand immediately soothing the place he just hit.

“Good slut”.

Light was woken up with your doorbell ringing, he looked at you sleep form, peacefully laying down on his chest realizing it would be hard to awake you after the exhausting hours and countless orgasms he just submitted you to. So he carefully slid off the bed leaving you sleeping on your stomach to pick up his pants.

“Yagami?” your ex-boyfriend said when his senior opened the door of your apartment with no shirt on, “I came to take my stuff. Where is…?” he looked around, noticing your bare back laying on the bed through the open door of your bedroom, his face immediately going red with anger.

“I believe this is what you’re looking for” Light kicked a box you left right beside the door with your ex’s name on it and a poop drawing.

“That whor—” he cursed through a clenched jaw, but Light did not let him finish calling you something only he was allowed to from now on, instead grabbing the pathetic man by his collar.

“Take your shit and leave” threatening eyes looking down on him were enough to make the man bend down and lift the box.

As Light watched him hurrying to pick it up and leave — letting it fall twice due to the heavy weight — Light realized he made a good decision to not write your ex’s name down, being more delighted to see him humiliating himself than to just fall on the floor holding his chest. Too bad you haven’t seen it, not after being so well fucked that neither the door being slammed shut woke you up.

© please do not modify or repost; if you find reposted content please let me know

[mosswillow]

Hey I saw that your requests for headcanons are open so if it's not a problem for you I had this idea in my head on how would the Avengers react on reader having pierced nipples(I was thinking about Tony, Steve, Thor, Nat, Bruce, Clint, Bucky, Peter, Wanda, Vision, Dr Strange. If they are too much you can write whoever you want or if you have any idea for anyone else go fo it) And so like I had it in my head as if reader is kinda new in the team and now one really new that until one day she wore a crop top without a bra and they were showing. Like after a bath or in the morning right after she woke up, and the team isn't really fond of her so they aren't making any comments about it, just their thoughts. It's okay if you don't want to or can't write it but thank you in advanced

a/n- Oh my goodness. I wrote this whole fic (I know the ask was for a head-cannon but Inn this case a fic actually felt easier.) then came back to post and realized it's not what you asked for. 🤦‍♀️ I'm so sorry Anon, it's also been months I think that you've been waiting. They're supposed to not like her and it's all in their heads. I wrote it with them all reacting to it verbally, and they like her. Send another ask and lmk if you want me to redo this. I'm going to go ahead and release what I already wrote for now.

Here now - Steve Rogers x Fem reader. (plus a little bit of Tony, Sam, Thor, Nat, Bruce, Clint, Bucky, Peter, Wanda, Vision, and Dr. Strange.)

Warnings - dark(ish), 18+ adult content, nipple piercings.

They’re never up this late, or at least they haven't been since you moved in with them. You’re the new girl still and while they’re all kind to you, you don’t fit in. It’s like they’re a family. They have history together that you just don’t. They’ve been through so much together while you just kinda just fell into it. Literally.

Yeah sure, you have super strength but it’s not something you want. Unlike most of the others, your power was something you were born with. You’ve never wanted to be a hero, you just want to be normal.

One day you were walking home from work while watching some stupid cat tik tok. You tripped and fell into this guy, tanging together with him on the sidewalk. When you looked up the entire avenger squad was running your way. Then you noticed the blood. The guy was covered in it. He had this look in his eyes that felt off. You didn't think, just punched. Your fist collided with his face, giving a satisfying crunch before he could scurry away.

Captain America got to you first and to your surprise chewed you out for your recklessness, it was quite the out of body experience. According to him, you shouldn’t have been on your phone while walking. He didn’t even say thank you or anything for catching the guy. But oh, how it made you feel with him standing over you all big with his muscles and piercing blue eyes. You should have been offended by how he was treating you but instead found yourself turned on.

Knocking out an evil villain made you a target, or so you were told. Your options were to join the avengers or live knowing that someone would probably show up in your life and either kill you or turn you into a weapon. You didn’t have much of a choice but to go with them.

That was a month ago. Since then you’ve mostly tried to stay to yourself.

Today, or rather tonight, you crave ice cream.

The freezer is always filled with all sorts of treats so you’ve made a sort of routine a few nights a week where you sneak out and eat a dessert.

You plop a hefty spoonful of vanilla ice cream into a bowl and bring the sweet treat to your lips, moaning at how good it tastes. Someone coughs and you look up into dark brown eyes.

“Oh, sorry, was this yours?” you ask Sam.

“No, you’re good, keep going.” He says, smirking as he steps back and crosses his arms.

You pause for a few minutes trying to understand what’s happening.

“Where’s Cap?” he asks.

“I don’t know?”

“Woah,” Tony’s voice rings through the air. you look up to see the whole crew walking in sans Vision and his highness, Captain America.

They look at you like you’re naked or something and it makes you feel more and more uncomfortable. Then you realize that they’re not looking at you, they’re looking at your breasts.

Fuck.

You look down and remember you’re not wearing a bra. They don't know that your nipples are pierced, or didn't know. Now they do.

“Hey, what’s everyone doing in here?” Vision walks in and looks around, knitting his brow in confusion. He looks at your nipples but doesn't seem surprised. “I don't understand.”

“I’ll explain later,” Wanda says quietly.

“Apparently nobody here has seen a nipple piercing before.” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s just a surprise to come in here and see you showing them off in that little outfit. I should have known, the shy ones are always the ones with fun surprises.”  Tony says.

“You should have heard her moaning a few minutes ago,” Sam chimes in.

You should walk away but your feet won’t move.

“We’re looking respectfully. Wanda says.

“I’m looking a bit disrespectful.” Natasha says. “Sorry, ”

“Why would you do that to yourself?” Bucky asks.

“You can't ask that Buck.” Bruce chides.

“I think I’m going to go to my room.” You finally say, moving towards the hallway.

“You don’t have to leave. I’ve come across many women with piercings, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”  Thor laughs.

“Yeah, don't leave, stay right there and moan more.” Clint adds.

“Well now she’s definitely going to leave,” Peter says, glaring at Clint. "and she was just starting to warm up to us. I'm tired of waiting for-" He's elbowed by Natasha.

“Children. Actual children.” Stephen sighs.

“Cap’s going to be pissed,” Tony says.

“Why?” you ask, stopping and turning around.

“She doesn't know,” Peter says.

“Know what?”

“He obviously has a thing for you,” Wanda rolls her eyes.

“So?”

“He’s old fashioned, doesn’t like anyone walking around barely clothed, let alone his girl. He gets jealous.” Bucky shrugs.

“We’re also not really supposed to have piercings,” Peter adds.

You slowly back away. “Ok, well this conversation was weird… let’s not do it again.”

You slink back into the hallway and almost reach your room when you’re pushed against the wall. You’re used to being able to push anyone off but Steve is even stronger than you. Warmth pools in your belly as you realize that you feel totally powerless for the first time in your life. Fuck, why does this turn you on so much?

“Did it hurt,” Steve whispers. He brings his fingers to a nipple and plays with it, making your knees go weak.

“When I got it, yes.”

“And now?”

“It… It feels good.”

“Good,” he purrs, groping at your breasts.

He reaches around you and opens the handle, pushing you in.

“You’ll have to get rid of them,” he says frowning.

Fire is ignited inside you.

“You can’t tell me not to get rid of them just because of your stupid sexism.”

“Oh, you misunderstand,” he says “I like them. If it was up to me you’d keep them,”

“Then why?”

“Combat and piercings don’t mix,” he shrugs.

“Piercings or not, don’t wear this outfit out of your room again,” he brushes a finger over one of the piercings. “And yes, I’m definitely being sexist.”

“I-” your breath hitches as he leans into your ear and takes a lobe in his mouth, “But you like it, don't you naughty girl?” He whispers.

You bite your lower lip and flutter your eyelashes. You should say something, anything. He backs off of you and opens your door.

“Welcome to the team,” he smirks before leaving.

[ren-therose]

The Penthouse Plot

Sherlock X F!Reader (3.8k words)

Summary: Sherlock, John and Reader all go to a penthouse party to pick up some clues about their newest case. But Y/N and Sherlock are put in a compromising situation. 

Warnings: smut 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), creampie, squirting, after care

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

“We are going to a party”

This was an incredibly abrupt statement from the detective who was still in pajamas at four in the afternoon, slouched down into the arm chair with the news paper covering his face. I couldn’t see his emotions, but I could tell that the idea had already been formulated, and he had not quite been excited out of it. His boredom was chronic, and it would often times only be soothed by myself to get him out of it. 

The first time we met, I was sitting on a park bench in Paddington Street Gardens, not but two blocks away from his flat. As if drawn to the cigarette I was smoking, he walked up as casually as he could, coat turned up, and sat on the bench over from my left. I didn’t look, but I was aware that a tall, dark man was watching me as I tried to solve today's crossword in the paper. 

He leaned closer, trying to take in the smoke for the nicotine high. With a slight glance his way, it was all I needed to take the cigarette from my mouth in my left hand, and casually rest it on the bench next to me. I blew out the smoke to the right side of my mouth though, purposefully keeping it from him, allowing my lips to guide the smoke in a stream to dissipate into the morning air. Still looking at the crossword, I began filling in 20 across, feeling a sense of intrigue and frustration emanating from the man next to me. 

“It’s not diva, its aria,” a deep voice says. I smirk, not looking up to his face quite yet. 

“No shit, Sherlock. 18 down is ‘erie’, so why would I put down diva?” I inquire, but before he could answer, I reply myself. “I was proving my hypothesis: is the detective next to me just trying to second-hand smoke, or is he actually paying attention to me? And the answer was both.”

He stands and comes to sit on my right side, not looking at me directly. The cigarette dangling from my lip wasn’t his main concern anymore. 

“How quickly did you realize it is only an herbal cigarette Mr. Holmes?” I ask, erasing my trap from 20 across. 

“As soon as I first looked at you. You have no stains on your fingers from the smoke, as well as no burns, which tells me you don’t smoke often. If you were a smoker, you would need at least a pack a day, and these tell-tale signs would be there. You don’t need to smoke because there isn’t an addiction. I presume you do it to attract men, though possibly women too, and to fit into the culture of London, as you are not from here. But you specifically looked up this park because you were looking for something or someone. I would presume it is me, considering you recognized me through my name” he says smuggly, finally looking at me. I didn’t know it then, but he later explained that he was shocked to see the prominence of my “subtle beauty”, and the way in which I held posture in every way that symbolized I was relaxed next to him. This of course was followed by the fact that I was so comfortable that I had gained a pound within the first year of knowing him. 

“So you are as good as they say,” I reply, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Those eyes dart down to my lips where the cigarette is still being held by the moisture of my mouth. I remove it, holding out the cigarette between my fingers. “I can imagine it is worlds different from a regular cigarettes addictive effects, but the smell of smoke and the herbs inside might calm you,” I offer. He leans down and takes the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling deeply. I let go of the cigarette as he leans back and removes it. He exhales out, happy to have something other than CO2 leave his lungs. 

“You could have phoned” he said nonchalantly. I closed the newspaper and turned my body slightly more towards him. 

“No I couldn’t. This isn’t about a case or me looking for my parents or some shit. I needed you to listen. I am a doctor and I am looking for the topic of my next publication” I state. His eyes widen a bit, as he gives me a once over. I was quite young to have a doctorate, but the ambition I have was intriguing to him.

“Great, another doctor. And you must study some form of psychology right?” he implies. 

I chuckle as I brush the hair behind my ear to look at him as I explain my credentials. 

“BA in a social science and a minor in Women's Studies and Gender, just to make it easier on you. Two masters in something to do with policy and a knack for behavior trends across cultures. A PhD in…” I trail off to let him figure it out. 

“International Relations. You couldn’t let go of the need to work abroad and help other. You also study the difference in human behaviors and how it can be interpreted and persuaded. It is why you are now living in London, after living in a southern European country, and I’m going to go with Italy” he responds. 

I raise my eyebrow at him. “Italy was fun. I spent most of the time on the mainland with a friend and would visit their family in Sardinia”. 

“He was gay wan’t he?”

“Not that he himself knew.”

The detective laughed. It was the beginning of a friendship, with many late nights, bad coffee and fighting. I lived in the basement of 221 Baker Street, after coming to a bargain price with Mrs. Hudson if I agreed to get rid of the black mold and redo the space for future renters. When I asked her why she was already thinking of future renters, she just smiled and told me Sherlock's door was open and I could just walk in. 

Now, a year and a half later, I was in his flat, in my own night gown and robe, working on pot of tea to make a London foggy, one of Sherlocks favorite drinks I could make. I had told him that if he got to work in his pajamas, or just a sheet at times, then he couldn’t expect anything less of me. But his abrupt statement that we were going to a party had me do a double take. 

“A party? Are we feeling like clubbing tonight Sherlock?” I tease. 

“It is just a bit of field work. But I need you to come with as my date so that I am not bothered by lonely, sad women.”

“Ah yes. All the lonely, sad women will flock to the handsome, cocky detective for comfort and an inquisitive night,” I mock, bringing the tea to him. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” He says without looking up. 

Offended, I grab the paper from his hands and smack him on the head with it. He flinched, protecting his tea from me. 

“Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m here for John” I say, tossing the paper into his lap. Sherlocks mouth slightly gapes before he snaps it shut, looking behind me. 

“I’m sorry, what did I just walk in on?” John says from the doorway. Sherlock turns red as I walk up to John, pulling my leg up on him, placing my hand on his cheek while giving him a lingering kiss on the other, maintaining eye contact with Sherlock. “Afternoon John,” I say with a flirtatious growl. He didn’t move since my dramatic act, and as I exited the apartment to get ready, I hear John exclaim “I could get used to that kind of welcome”. I laugh as I hear the paper get thrown at the doctor. 

Two hours later, and a lot of fighting with a curling wand, I hear a knock at my door. I do a once-over of myself in the mirror. It was a high-end party, requiring a more put together look, and I was determined to look my best. In helping Sherlock and John, I realized that I rarely dressed up-practicality and professionalism is key. 

I put my phone into my handbag, and slipped my feet into my black pointed stilettos. One more once-over in the mirror next to the door, and I unlatched the lock. As soon as I opened it, the detective couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. My hair was in loose curls around my face, and the dress, oh the dress, flattered my body in every way. It was a silk green dress, that hugged every curve. It was ruched in the sides, creating a tight draping across my abdomen. The fabric on my bust sat just below the tops of my breasts, and dropped to my off-the-shoulder sleeves. I was wearing a simple emerald necklace with matching earrings, and a ruby ring on my left hand. My legs were well accentuated, and the stilettos did wonders for my posture. Still, I was the same girl in pajamas at this now well suited man's place as I was now. 

“You’re giving yourself away Detective,” I flirt, walking by him to climb the stairs to the front of the building. I make extra care to add a little movement as I climb, knowing he would be right behind me and very distracted. It was my favorite game to tease both of the boys, but especially Sherlock. It was always a game, and he loved games. As I exited the building, John was waiting for us outside, also dressed sharply. His eyes widened as I walked towards him. 

“In the words of a great detective, ‘Your body betrays you’ John. It’s still me inside this get-up. Now where is the cab?” I ask. 

“Umm...uh, there hasn’t been an available one yet...” he forces out. 

London was busy on a Saturday night, and it could often be difficult to find a cab. Lucky for us, my dress is pretty reflective, and I was going to use that to my advantage. I stepped off the curb just slightly, jutting out my shoulder blades and putting my weight on one foot to give myself more shape. By the time I had raised my hand, two taxis pulled up. I heard a cough behind me, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson both smirking at me. 

“I’m sorry, did you have a better idea?” I shoot at them. I open the door for myself and climb into the cab. The two men clambered in after me. 

The party was at a lovely high-rise in the middle of London. It looked to be a penthouse, but one grander than I had ever seen. As the three of us exited the elevator, we looked at each other once more, setting our plan in motion. John was to walk around and mingle, while Sherlock and I were to snoop about the place, looking for context clues. I grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the trays, and Sherlock and I began our promenade. We quickly realized that I was drawing a bit too much attention in my get-up and we would need to look around before people noticed we were gone. Our arms entwined, we strolled past the main crowd into a hallway, casually chatting the weather. The detectives hand was on my waist, holding tightly, as though I might leave his side. It was different than they way he usually grabbed my arm to move me around or out of the way of harm. 

We were looking for the bedroom of our hosts place, though, it did not seem there was one here. The penthouse was more of a party pad then a living space, which lends more to our profile of him. We continued to walk, and came across a study. His hand slid off my waist as he entered the room. I stood outside with my drink, while Sherlock took note of every little detail there. As he came out of the room though, I heard footprints coming round the corner. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom next to the study. As I pushed him in, our eyes searched each other for the next move that we hadn’t initially planned. Though we were going as a date, it was never really a date. Until now. 

Grabbing the lapels of the detectives suit, I slammed my lips on his, pushing us both backwards onto the sink. Knowing that he was more recognizable. I spun him around so that my back was to the sink and his was to the door. I jumped on to the sink, hiking up my dress a little higher, so that I could hook one leg around his waist. Instinctively, his right hand went to my leg to hold it up, and his left hand was in my hair. 

His lips. I had seen them a million times before, studying his face as he rambled about a case. While he was just a colleague and possibly a friend, there were a few times when I would fall asleep thinking about those lips. And here he was, kissing me on a bathroom sink at a party, with enough force to make me melt into it. My hand went to his hair, as he began to trail kisses down my neck, hiding his face in me so that his reflection could not be seen. My other hand was gripping his waist, trying not to slip into the sink itself. My shoe was dangling on my toes as our bodies continued to crash. We heard the door click open, and my eyes opened to see the host and his assistant wide-eyed at us. 

“Occupied,” I panted, smiling with a small wave. The two quickly shut the door, their footprints receding down the hallway. As soon as it was quiet, Sherlock froze on my collarbone, neither of us moving for a moment. I removed my hand from his hair, trying to pat it back into place. He stood up, and looked down at me. My dress had ridden up further, and my black lace panties were definitely on display. So was the red in both of our faces. I glanced over his shoulder to look at the door, realizing that there was a lock on it. Sherlock didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on me. 

He knew there was a lock. He wanted the situation. He wanted to get caught.

“Lock it” I demanded.

He took a few steps back and turned the button, locking the door. His eyes didn’t leave me. I was still propped up against the sink, both hands propped up behind me. My legs had still been open, and as his eyes raked over my body looked, I grew self-conscious and went to close them. But he stepped towards me, grabbing my lower thigh. I hesitantly opened myself back up for him. His hand moved up my thigh, while the other wrapped around my waist, drawing himself closer to me. I placed a hand on his chest, running it up until it was at the nape of his neck, playing with his soft, black curls. I gently tugged him toward me, and our lips attached once more. This time, it was more more sensual. Taking the time to just allow ourselves to feel one another. As he pulled away, I let out a small gasp as I felt his growing bulge against my clothed core. 

He seized the opportunity to kiss me again, letting his tongue wander and explore my mouth, pulling me as close as I could be to him. He pushed himself against me, causing a soft moan to escape, as I involuntarily rolled against him. He smirked against my mouth, moving once more against me. I hissed, feeling myself grow wetter. 

Sherlock pulled me off the sink, wrapping both of my legs around him before pinning me against the wall. I was sitting just on top of his cock, and the friction was even more frustrating. I grinded down on him, kissing his neck, while leaving small bites in between. I needed more though. I unwrapped my legs, and he lowered me to the ground. When he placed me down, I kissed him with passion while I started to undo his trousers. He walked backwards to the sink, leaning up against it, as I palmed him through his suit. His low groan made me quiver as I licked a long stripe up his neck to his ear, wear I softly bit the lobe. This drove him crazy.

Pants still undone, he whipped us around so that I was against the sink again. He pulled my dress up enough so that he could hook his fingers in the lace of my panties and pull them down. He lifted me up on to the sink to get them off of me. He worked them past my heels, and placed both of his hands on my thighs, rubbing circles into them with his thumb. His forehead was resting on mine and we were both breathing in sync. I opened my legs for him, as he traced his way between my legs. The violinist in him was showing, and he was going to work out the tension and boredom he had been feeling all day. His fingers came in contact with me, running through my folds. He went from my clit down to my opening, just toying with me. I let out a whimper as he placed his middle finger just barely inside of me. He slowly pushed his digit inside of me, causing a guttural groan to escape. I bucked into his hand, desperate for more. He pumped it casually, as if he had done this to me a million times and knew how I would react. He then slipped a second finger into me, causing me to emit another moan. 

“Please Sherlock. No games,” was all I could manage. 

He began to pump his fingers in a come-hither motion, curling them to hit my g-spot. I gasped with every movement, keeping as quiet as I could. He was working his way to get me as wet as I could be for him. I was starting to feel the tension in my stomach build when he placed his thumb on my clit and made sharp movements with it. I cried out, gripping his shoulders for support. I was going to need him soon if he wanted to me to finish with his cock inside me. But he kept pumping and rubbing, watching as my face conveyed every emotion he had ever made me feel. My arm wrapped around his neck, as I could barely keep myself up anymore. 

“Sherlock, you-you’re gonna..m-make me..c-cum…” I stutter out. I am rocking against his hand, chasing what I can’t stop. This only urges him more, as he quickens his pace. Without warning, I cum all over his finger with a cry. But he doesn’t stop. He continues to work my pussy, until I gasp out “I’m...I’m gonna squirt”. He steps out from between my legs, his fingers not stopping. As he steps to the side, he leans in to my ear and finally says something. 

“Show me”. 

It was all it took for my orgasm to elongate itself, as I squirted on his hand. I couldn’t stop and was shaking, barely able to keep myself up. I almost crumpled backwards before he caught me. Once again, he was between my legs, his hands on my neck and waist. I reached for his painfully hard cock, pulling it from his pants. I started stroking him, causing his eyes to flutter close. I was still coming down from what he had done with just his fingers, but I needed his dick inside me. I looked up at him, and said something that I knew would only boost his ego, and he would probably use against me later. 

“Mr. Holmes, I need you inside me, now”. 

His eyes shot open, as I looked back at him with lust-blown eyes. My hand was still wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping him. He and his god-complex were completely enamoured with my new take of teasing him. I lined his cock at my entrance, but not before teasing him through my folds. Just that little movement caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin. As I put his tip in my entrance, he searched my eyes once more for the consent he needed. I pushed myself onto him a little, letting him know he could take me. He leaned in, pushing his length all the way into me. I let out a loud gasp, wrapping my arm around his neck once more, my other hand on his back. I was still throbbing from my previous orgasm, and I knew he could feel my warm pulse inside me. He slowly pulled out, and then quickly sheathed himself inside me again. Our pelvises were against each other and his gently movements drove me crazy. I let out a cry of ecstasy, letting my head roll back, exposing my neck. He kissed it gently, and then, lifted me off the counter and back against the wall. All I could do was struggle to remain quiet as he began quick thrusts deep into me, relentlessly hitting my sweet spot. He was open mouthed against my neck, breathing erratically as he continued to hold me up. 

“You feel, s-so g-good,” I moaned, urging him to continue. He loved it when I complimented him, he had always been that way. But to be inside me as I told him how much I loved his cock, it was heaven for him. The guttural sounds from his throat proved to me that he felt the same.

“Y/n, I’m not gonna last much longer” he said, as though it would deter me. As he began to remove himself, I grabbed his face to look at me. 

“I want you to cum inside, Detective,” I whisper, wrapping my legs tighter around him to prove my point. 

His eyes widened searching my face as I was in taking all of him, bouncing on his dick in a penthouse bathroom, loving everything he did. Seeing what he could do to me, looking into my eyes as I stifled my moans, he began to stutter inside of me. I was on the edge too, and when his hot rope of cum shooted inside of me, my own orgasm exploded, milking him of the rest of his cum. 

When we had both stilled, frozen with him still inside me, we could hear the party still going and the noise of London below us. He pulled his softening cock from me and as he did, our cum dripped down my thigh. My legs were incredibly weak, as he continued to hold me up. I reached for a hand towel to clean me up, but he beat me to it, wiping up and between my legs, careful not to cause pain from the sensitivity. He picked up my underwear that he had tossed on the ground somewhere, and helped me step back into it. I was still shaky if I bent my legs, but I knew he would hold me up. As we looked at each other, there was something new we both saw. Romance. The sexual chemistry that had been there was a response to the catalyst of romance. 

Before we could discuss the aftermath of our actions though, there was a loud banging on the door. Smoothing out my dress just past the door, Sherlock opened it to find John, arms crossed, waiting outside.   

“Are you shitting me Sherlock? You look like you just took a hit of something. Did you seriously lose Y/N at this party because you were trying to get hi…”

The door widened to reveal me, just behind Sherlock, makeup slightly down my fae, and both of our hair tousled. I smiled at John, knowing it wasn’t what he had expected. His jaw dropped, “Tha..you were,,,um...has this been long or...?” Dr. Watson stuttered. 

“No John, that was the first time and it won’t be the last” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me past him. 

“Don’t be too jealous John,” I said with a wink. 

John didn’t know what to say except, “Are we done here?”

Sherlock and I walked arm in arm down the hallway, casting back a look at John as if to say “What do you think?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was my first oneshot and was it trash? Yeah, maybe. So if you know me, no you don’t :)

Leave suggestions if you’d like, I’m writing smut I can’t find. 

[graceful-starker]

They Were Right and I Was Wrong: Redo

New Years Resolution. Voted to Redo. Tada.

This was one of the fics that I had a draft for and it got deleted with my old blog. It’s been two years since the last chapter was posted and honestly I feel really bad about it. So here we are! Here is the ao3, and the rest of the re-do is there (Chapters 1-4 are redone, chapter 5 is a continuation).

Summary: After finding Tony in bed with someone else, Peter has to either find out how to cope or how to leave him. 

Warnings: cheating, insecurity, sadness, angst, suicidal thoughts, mentions of suicide, major character death, angst without a happy ending.

~~~~~

Peter drops the weights on the floor with a loud clink, panting with exhaustion. He checks his watch, cursing softly to himself. Tony gets out of meetings in half an hour.

He starting working with Pepper a few months ago, after his performance at SI started to decline worryingly. She had set up a meeting to ask what was up, and Peter had, after a lot of probing, admitted that he was having trouble concentrating because he was so depressed about Tony’s cheating. 

After turning down her offer to physically beat good sense into Tony, they came to a better agreement: Pepper would keep an assistant on Tony’s ass at all times, so when he's at work, he’s always being watched. Pepper is to be notified immediately if Tony tries to get rid of said assistant, and so whenever Tony is working he’s accounted for. Peter doesn’t have to worry about Tony while they’re at work. 

Meanwhile, Peter is working out more to be less of a ‘Twink’ as Tony had so elegantly put it, and is trying to tire the older man out enough he doesn’t have the energy to cheat when Tony is not at work. Unfortunately for Peter, his body doesn’t want to get any buffer. He’ll only ever be half the man Steve is. 

But he has started to top Tony every day after their work day. At least, he offers it. Sometimes Tony is too tired, or he just doesn’t want to, but Peter makes sure that at least he and Tony are in the same room until Tony passes out, and until they start their work days at SI. 

It’s exhausting, and Peter hasn’t felt this drained in...ever, actually. Not even during MIT finals. Peter’s day consists of waking up with Tony, showering and getting dressed with Tony, driving to work with Tony, working all day while a poor unpaid intern follows Tony around, working out for the few hours when Tony still has work and Peter doesn't, goes home with Tony, fucks Tony or at least stalks Tony, until they go to bed. Then the cycle repeats. 

Peter has never been this depressed. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He isn’t happy, he can’t trust his boyfriend, he has no time to see his friends or family. He doesn’t feel loved like he wants to. He feels like an unwanted burden. 

Peter speeds through the shower before rushing upstairs to meet Tony. He runs into the assistant--Peter thinks his name is Andrew but he isn’t sure about that--and smiles at him tiredly. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

Andrew looks up, smiling back. ‘Hey Mr. Parker! Today was good, but I really happy when Mr. Stark got the day off. I’ve never felt so relaxed!”

Peter feels his blood run cold, and his smile drops. “What?”

Andrew nods, looking back at his phone. “Yeah, he texted me this morning and said Miss Potts gave him the day off so he wasn’t coming in. Didn’t you know? You guys usually show up together.”

Peter swallows thickly, forcing a fake smile. “No, right, I just forgot what day it was. Well, see you tomorrow.”

Andrew waves before walking off, immersed in his phone. 

Peter feels like a weight has been dropped into his stomach. He races home as fast as he can, using his webs instead of the car. He gets home a half hour before Tony would have expected him. 

He walks out of the elevator onto Tony’s floor and physically feels the other shoe drop.

Clothes on the floor. Clothes that don’t belong to Peter or to Tony. And there’s Tony’s clothes, a little further down the hallway. He follows them to their bedroom, and opens the door with extreme hesitation. 

But there Tony is, hovering above a very pretty boy, freezing when he sees Peter in the door. 

Tony pulls away from the boy, which makes the ranger whine in protest. But they see too notices Peter, and blushes red and covers himself with the sheets. “Peter,” Tony greets, sighing in annoyance. “You’re home early.”

Peter stares for a few more seconds, before he surprises them all.

He breaks down into hysteric sobs, feeling the exhaustion hit him at once. Not only is Tony cheating on him again, he’s cheating with someone who looks like Peter. Someone small, someone who bottoms, someone who isn’t what Tony would say is a ‘real man’. 

Peter’s been wasting his time trying to get better, trying to get closer to Steve. Tony didn’t even really want that. Peter has been topping for no reason, has been working out for no reason, has been stressing out over his body for no fucking reason. 

“Peter?” Tony whispers, and when did he get there? When did the stranger leave? When did Tony get dressed? “Peter baby, please-”

Peter shoves Tony too hard, way too hard for how string Peter is. Tony slams into the wall opposite them, and Tony groans in pain. 

“God, Peter, what the hell-”

“What’s-” Peter hiccups, sobbing brokenly. ‘What’s your excuse this time?”

Tony manages to look embarrassed, at least. “It’s just...it’s been so long since you let me top, it’s been months Pete, I just-”

Peter starts to laugh hysterically, folding in on himself and falling backwards, pulling his knees to his chest. He’s half sobbing and half laughing, and he feels like he’s gone crazy. “I never even wanted to fucking top in the first place, and now-” he cuts himself off with hysterical laughter. “Now you’re cheating because I top too much. First it was because I wasn’t a real man, and now I’m too-too manly, right?” He throws his head back with laughter, feeling the tears pour down his face. 

Tony shifts uncomfortably, put on edge by the hysteria. “Peter, calm down baby, you’re freaking me out.”

Peter starts to laugh harder, sobs interrupting his laughter every once in a while. “What’s the point? What’s the point of starving myself? What’s the point of working out for five hours a day? What’s the point of hiring an intern to stalk you all day every day? What’s the point of having sex when and how I don’t want to? What’s the fucking point of being here, of being alive anymore? No one will ever want me or love me or treasure me! I’ll never-I’ll never be good enough! I’ll never...” Peter finally stops laughing, and he stares at nothing as his voice gets quieter and quieter. Silent tears stream down his face.  “I’ll never make you happy. No matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, no matter how I change myself. It only took me three years to get it, but I got it now.”

“Peter, don’t-don’t say things like that. You’re scaring me.” Tony inches towards the door, and Peter notes that he isn’t trying to comfort Peter. 

“But why. That’s the question I can’t answer, after all this time. Why did you do this to me? Why did you break me? Why did you say you love me if you don’t? Why did you agree to date me if you didn’t want me? Why did you do this to mw, what did I do to deserve this? What did I do?”

Peter hides his face in his knees, crying and mumbling his questions. 

“Peter? Oh, Darlin’...” Peter stiffens before looking up finally. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but the sun is down and Tony is gone and Bucky is there. 

“Tony left me?” Peter asks, and he sounds so pathetic even to himself that Peter hates himself even more.

“Oh, no, doll, he’s in the living room. He just texted me for back up is all. Can you tell me what happened? Tony only said you were crying and...and that you hit ‘im pretty hard.”

Peter feels like the skin under his eyes is so raw it might rub off, but he can’t stop the tears from escaping again. “I hit him?” Peter asks brokenly, holding his legs more tightly. 

“Nah, I looked him over. I don’t see any marks. I think he exaggerated to make me come; I don’t exactly owe him any favors...” Bucky sits next to Peter, wrapping a soothing arm over his shoulders. 

Peter’s lower lip wobbles, and he starts to sob again. “He’s going to leave me. I tried so hard, Bucky, I swear I did. I did everything he wanted, I became what he wanted, and I still...he still...”

Bucky makes a sad noise, pulling Peter closer. “He cheated again?”

Peter nods, choking on a sob. “I don’t want to live like this anymore. I can’t do this anymore Bucky, I give up. He doesn’t want me. I’ll never be as good as Steve, I’ll never be good enough at all. I’ll-”

“Stop,” Bucky breathes, but it makes Peter’s jaw click shut. He moves himself to be in front of Peter, forcing the younger to look at him. “You don’t believe that. Please, tell me you don’t believe that.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbles and he looks away from Bucky, wiping at his face. It’s useless, though, because new tears just replace them immediately. “You should go.”

“Peter-”

“Get out,” Peter says, pushing away the arms he wants more than anything to be around him. “Steve will be pissed you came to see me, you should really-”

“Steve can deal with it darlin’ I’m not going anywhere. Not when you’re this upset. C’mon, you have to let me-”

“I don’t have to let you do anything!” Peter yells, standing up abruptly and shaking his head. “You did the same thing to me! You led me on, you made me feel like I could be worth it, like I could be loved by someone, and you cast me aside!” Peter faces away from Bucky, shoulders shaking with the power of his sobs. 

Bucky stands as well, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Peter that...was a mistake. I shouldn’t have taken Steve back, I shouldn’t have slept with you, I shouldn’t have done a lot of things. But it was never because I didn’t like you, or I thought you weren’t worth it, or-”

“But you did. You did do those things, and I took Tony back because of those things, and now I just want you to go.” Peter’s shoulders slump, and he chokes on a sob. “Just go away, please.” 

Bucky is silent, taking in the words. They’re sharp as a knife, butting Bucky’s heart into a million pieces. Peter blames Bucky as much as he blames Tony, and honestly, he isn’t wrong to. “I'm so sorry, Peter. I...I’ll go. I’m sorry, I didn’t ever want to hurt you.” Peter doesn’t respond, so Bucky simply leaves, hiding his own hurt for now.

Peter makes a wounded noise, pulling at his hair. He feels like he’s about to have another panic attack, like he’s drowning, like nothing will ever be good again.

Until suddenly, it all stops. 

Peter’s breath evens, and his face steels into blankness, and he suddenly sees a light at the end of the tunnel. He suddenly sees a way out. 

~~~

Bucky is shaking with rage, a fire burning so hot inside of him he’s afraid it will consume him and burn him alive. He feels like a supernova waiting to happen, a black hole in the making. 

Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, face somber and full of regret and remorse. “We have to go, Buck. Unless you want to skip-”

“We aren’t skipping his god damn funeral. We’re the reasons he’s fucking going into the ground in the first place.” Bucky pushes Steve’s hand off, stomping over to the mirror and adjusting his tie himself instead of letting Steve do it. 

Steve makes a wounded noise, and it only fans the flames inside of Bucky. “It isn’t your fault-”

“I’m the last person he spoke to,” Bucky growls. “He didn’t say another word to Stark. I was the last person he spoke to. And other than telling me to leave, his last words-” Bucky’s voice breaks on ‘last’, and he clears his throat. “His last words were to let me know he blames...he blamed me for the way he felt. It is my fault, and it’s your fault for making me hurt him, and it’s Stark’s fault for breaking him. It’s all our fault.”

Steve hangs his head in shame, his red-rimmed eyes filling with tears yet again. “Then it’s mine and Stark’s fault. You didn’t do anything-”

“I took you back,” Bucky spits the words, laced with venom and aimed for the kill. “The worst mistake of my life.” He pushes past Steve, leaving the blond standing there broken and guilty. Just like how Bucky feels on the inside. 

~

The funeral was harder than Bucky was expecting it to be, which is saying something since he already thought it would be the hardest thing he’d ever go through. Torture via Hydra was less painful than hearing the scream of agony May emitted when they closed Peter’s coffin. It reminded Bucky of when she got to the hospital. 

“Where is he? Where is he, where is my Peter?!”

“May...” Happy’s voice was broken, empty sounding. “May, I don’t think you should see this.”

“See what?!” May had screamed, sounding as hysterical as Bucky had felt. “Where is he, where is my baby?!”

“May...” Happy hadn’t put up that much a fight in the end, and she had pushed her way into Peter’s room. 

Bucky had been by his bedside, red eyes sore from all the crying. Peter looked so small. He was so pale, and the bags under his eyes were so dark, and he...

They didn’t even try to get him back. By the time Tony had realized Peter had been in the bathroom too long, he had already lost too much blood.

Sometimes, in the books Bucky reads, they describe a dead person as if they looked like they were sleeping. Peter didn’t look like that. He looked broken, and drained, and so not-alive. 

“Peter?” May had whispered. Bucky had gotten up, to give her room. She immediately went to Peter’s bedside, taking his too-cold hand in her own. “Peter, baby, wake up.” May’s voice had broken, and with it Bucky’s heart. “Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. Wake up honey, you're okay. I’m right here. I’m here baby, I’m-Peter. Peter!”

May was shaking him, and it was so terrible to look at. His body gave no resistance, it just moved with May’s frantic shoving. 

“Peter!” May had screamed. “Peter, you’re okay! You’re okay Peter, you’re-”

Happy had come in, and put a gentle hand on May’s elbow. “May...Come on, let’s get you a seat, let’s-”

“Peter!” she had screamed, a wounded noise. “No!” She had struggled against Happy, not daring to accept what was in front of her. “No! Peter get up, get up! You’re okay, you have to be okay! Peter please, please don’t leave me baby please, I can’t lose you too-no-no get off of me! He’s okay, he’s right there! I can’t be alone don’t leave me alone Peter wake up!”

“He’s dead, May. He’s dead,” Happy had said, but had let her go.

The scream May had released was inhuman. It was broken, it was a scream of her own death. She had flung herself onto Peter’s chest, fisting the shirt he was in and sobbing into it. She had no words anymore, no pleas, hope. Just the broken sounds of a woman who’s lost everything.

Pepper Potts had to pull May away from the grave, whispering words of apologies and empty promises that she’ll be okay. It’s all lies--how could May ever be okay? How could she even ever reach a point where she isn’t dead inside? She buried her nephew. She’ll never be okay again. 

Bucky will never be okay again. And when he turns to look at Steve, he knows Steve will never be okay again either. He’s probably replaying the fight he had with Peter almost a year ago, the fight where he single-handedly told Peter all the things he needed to hear to start his self-destructive cycle. The things Peter repeated in the last conversation the boy ever had. The things that pushed him over the edge. 

Tony didn’t even have the decency to show up of his own will. Happy Hogan physically dragged him here, and anyone who has a nose knows the man is drunk enough to be concerned about liver failure. 

Secretly, Bucky hopes Tony’s liver does fail. He doesn’t deserve to live, after what he’s done to Peter. 

Steve attempts to hold Bucky’s hand, but Bucky yanks it away. Instead, he follows the sounds of May’s wailing, making sure to push Tony as he goes by so the drunk falls on his ass. 

By the time he catches up to the girls, Pepper has May sitting down and sipping on water in between her sobs. Bucky takes a seat beside her, and his presence seems to bring May to the present. 

“You were there,” she accuses, and Bucky’s heart sinks. “At the hospital. You were there.”

Bucky eventually nods, still unable to look directly at her. “I knew Peter.”

May is quiet for a moment, before she takes Bucky’s hand in her own. This time, he doesn’t try to escape the comfort. “I’m glad to know he had people who cared about him with him, in the end. Thank you for caring about him.” She gets up after that, and Pepper follows her with more words of comfort. 

And Bucky sits, staring off into the distance, wishing he had cared just a tiny bit more. He can’t help but believe that if he had, if he had just stayed with Peter after Peter pushed him away, if he had ignored his own hurt at Peter’s blame, if he had just grown a pair and been there...

Bucky will never know. 

[kinglazrus]

Deep Wounds Ch. 2 - What Now?

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Word count: 4069

It takes ten minutes for everyone to change and clear out. During that time, an invisible Danny floats in one of the shower stalls, his gym bag clutched to his chest, one hand clamped around his mouth. If it hadn't been for Dash's shout of "No!" he might not have hidden in time. Danny only had a few seconds to snatch up his bandages and bag—but not the gauze—before the first person entered.

It was Tucker, thankfully. He gaped when he saw Danny and quickly waved for him to hide. Just in time, too, since Elliot was only a few steps behind.

Now, Danny can only hear a single person shuffling about.

"It's clear," Tucker whispers.

Danny floats through the door of the shower stall, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees the empty change room. He drops his invisibility and dumps his stuff on the floor in favour of clutching his side. "Why didn't I stay home today?"

"Because you want to graduate this year and you can't afford another absence." Tucker grabs his gym shirt off the floor, revealing the forgotten gauze pad, and sighs at the new stains. "I really liked this shirt."

"Sorry, man."

"Dude, you are literally bleeding. Shut up. You don't need to apologize. Just be glad I got my shirt off before Elliot could see the damn thing." Tucker grabs the gauze, rolls it into a ball, and tosses it toward the garbage can. "Ten points!"

The gauze bounces off the rim and falls to the floor.

"Zero points," Danny says.

"Rude."

"Hey, I'm bleeding, remember?"

"That only gets you a pass from saying sorry, not common decency."

Danny's shoulders shake as he laughs. It hurts, making his left side throbbing, but trying to hold it back hurts worse. "Ow, ow, ow," he says, gasps of pain interrupting him. Curling over, he hugs his side even tighter, fighting back a sharp cry. The tension in his body doesn't help, but the pressure on his side feels good.

"Sam on her way?" Danny asks.

"She's grabbing the first-aid kit from my locker. I'll fix you up this time. We all know I have steadier hands." That A-plus in home ec isn't for nothing.

"Thanks," Danny mumbles.

"Yeah, dude. We've got you."

After Sam arrives, Tucker redoes Danny's stitches in record time. Half of the lunch hour has passed by the time Danny gets patched up, but he doesn't feel hungry anyway. Tucker takes his and Danny's bloody gym shirts and stuffs them into the first-aid kit.

"I need to refill on some supplies at home," Tucker explains. "I'll get rid of these there."

"Good idea. My mom found a pair of jeans I forgot to throw away after a fight with Skulker. I had a hard time explaining that one away," Danny says. The "I tripped into a window" excuse probably only works once, anyway. "But we have another problem."

"Dash?" Sam asks.

Danny nods. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"He was acting weird when gym ended. Wouldn't let anyone come inside until we pushed him out of the way."

"Huh." Danny certainly didn't expect that. Dash might be a downright bully anymore, but he's still not prone to random acts of kindness. "That's... weird." It doesn't make up for him tearing Danny's wound back open, even if it was an accident, but it's something.

"I think we might not have to worry about him," Sam says.

Danny stares at her, incredulous. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, actually. He could have done anything when he saw the rest of the class coming, including telling everyone that you were hurt. But he stopped them instead."

"But this is Dash."

"That's surprising coming from you."

"What does that even mean? You guys and Valerie are being so weird today. Come on, Tucker. Back me up." Danny looks at Tucker, fully expecting him to be on Danny's side.

Tucker doesn't respond right away. Biting his thumbnail, he stares ahead at the floor, deep in thought. That alone is enough to send Danny for a loop. When Tucker does answer, Danny's jaw drops in disbelief.

"I'm with Sam on this."

"For real?"

"Yeah, man. We don't even know what Dash thinks he saw, anyway. What happened when he walked in?" Tucker asks.

Danny tells them, sparing no detail.

"Oh, wow."

Sam shakes her head. "I'll say. I can't believe you wailed at him."

"Almost. I almost wailed at him. It was a baby wail at most. More of a hum," Danny says. He was just so surprised when Dash walked in. Danny's instincts took over and all he could think about was getting Dash out of there as soon as possible. He is lucky no one else came running.

"That already will have freaked him out. If we go around making a big deal about it and getting in his face, that'll make things worse." Sam stands up from the floor, stretching her arms over her head. She looks completely unconcerned, so does Tucker for that matter. Both of them are content to let Dash be. "Let's wait to see what he does. If he starts spreading rumours, we'll know right away, and then we can confront him."

"On the other hand, he might go to you, Danny, first," Tucker adds. He takes a bottle of Aspirin from the first-aid kit and presses it into Danny's hand before zipping the bag up. "He might not do anything."

The bottle of Aspirin rattles as Danny twists the lid off. "I can't believe you guys are okay with this." He dumps a couple of pills into his palm and tosses them back. Wordlessly, Sam passes him a water bottle. One quick swig is all he needs to help the pills go down. "He could be telling everyone right now."

"He could," Sam admits. "But he won't."

Sam and Tucker get up to leave, and Danny's forced to follow, or else get left behind. He trails after them, stiff, sore, and aching. The pills won't kick in for a while, and he loathes having to walk now. If he could get away with it, he would spend the rest of the day floating through the halls.

Tragically, he has a secret to protect. One that is very much at risk right now, despite what Sam says. Wherever she and Tucker are getting their confidence from, Danny doesn't share it. He just hopes they're right.

Dash tries to hold it in. He really does. The sound of Danny's anger bearing down on him, reverberating through the change room, hasn't stopped rattling around his head. But as lunch nears its end, the words burst out of him.

"I think Fenton is in a gang or something," Dash says.

The table falls silent.

Kwan freezes in place, hand halfway to his mouth, and a piece of meatloaf falls off his fork. "You... what?"

"I think Danny is in a gang," Dash repeats, softer.

His friends gape at him, equally confused. Mostly. Star doesn't even look up from her math homework. In fact, Dash thinks she's smiling, but he ignores it.

"Kwan, I thought you said Danny was the one who got hit during gym class," Paulina says. She pushes her lunch aside and leans across the table, lifting a hand to Dash's forehead. "Are you sure you got it right?"

"I'm fine, Paulie." Dash ducks under his hand and hunkers low to the table. When no one else moves, he gestures for them to come closer. Kwan does so immediately. Paulina rolls her eyes but obliges.

"I'm good," Star says.

"Okay, so, I checked on Fenton after dropping him off, 'cause he looked kind of bad, and I guess, I don't know. I felt... whatever. It doesn't matter. But like, he had this huge cut."

Paulina grins and leans in closer, finally looking invested. "You felt kind of 'whatever?'"

Dash scowls. "Seriously, Paulie?"

"You're the one who said it!" Paulina smacks the table, a fit of giggles bursting from her. It's her "I've found some juicy gossip" noise and Dash hates it.

"Did you even hear me? Huge cut and all that?" Dash says.

Kwan shrugs. "I don't know. His parents build a lot of crazy stuff, don't they? He probably hurt himself on one of those. Did you see that new gun they were toting around last week? It melted Mr. Lancer's car!"

"Oh, my God. I totally saw that. I felt so bad for him," Paulina says.

Dash frowns down at the table while the conversation plods on. True, everyone knows the Fentons have some crazy inventions. But everything they make, they make to hurt ghosts, not people. Everyone in town has been caught in the Fentons crossfire at one point or another. Dash still remembers the disgusting taste of the Fenton Foamers. Like warm, month-old key lime yogurt. Disgusting, but ultimately harmless.

And Danny didn't just have a little cut. It was huge. Dash only got a brief look at it, but that short glance told him everything he needed to know. Something, or someone, had hurt Danny. Rather than going to the hospital—because no trained professional would do such a sloppy job—Danny fixed it himself or got his friends to fix it. The injury had to be new, too, since it was still bleeding.

But stitches could bleed if you ripped them, didn't treat the injury right. Judging by the placement, Danny's stitches must pull every time he moves his arm.

Could one of his parents' guns have done that?

Now that Dash thinks about it, he doesn’t remember ever seeing Danny get hit with his parents' weapons. Not their guns, at least. They have that dumb boomerang thing that he's seen smack Danny on the back of the head. Actually, that one hits Danny a lot.

Dash's frown deepens, etching into his face. Why on Earth would one of Danny's own parents' inventions hurt him so much? Unless...

"Hey, guys?" Dash asks, interrupting Star mid-sentence.

"You found more proof of Fenton's gang activities?" Paulina asks.

"What if, like, someone's hurting him?"

"You mean one of his gang buddies?"

"No, Paulie, I'm serious. What if someone is hurting him?"

The table falls silent once more, but this time, his friends' expressions are serious rather than disbelieving.

Kwan lowers his voice. "Do you really think... I mean, Fenton?"

"Well..." Star taps her chin. "Where was he hurt?"

"Here." Dash taps his ribs on his left side, under his arm.

Star nods. "Okay. Are you sure he couldn't have, you know...." She trails off, but Dash already knows what she means.

"No way. He could hardly see the cut, much less do it himself. And it was bad."

"So he was hurt, badly, in a place that no one else would normally see. He didn't miss any school, so he probably didn't go to the hospital. Was it recent?"

Dash nods. "There was blood. Too much to just be because of the stitches."

Star drums her fingers on the table, nodding slowly. "I think you could be right."

The A-listers glance around the table, meeting each other's eyes. None of them say anything, but the same question lurks in all their minds. Now what?

In the days following the change room debacle, Danny avoids Dash like his life depends on it. Which it might. Any time he sees Dash in the hall, he turns right around and walks away. When they're in class, Danny stares straight ahead and refuses to look Dash's way. In gym class, Tetslaff lets him sit out, finally. Having Danny blackout on her after she forced him to play must have spooked her because she benches him before he can even ask not to play.

"No student of mine is gonna pass out on my watch. Twice," she says.

It won't last forever, but Danny will take what he can get, while he can get it.

But the thing is, Dash doesn't try anything. It's surreal. For the past four years, Danny has grown accustomed to Dash's constant harassment. Even when it dropped significantly in sophomore year, Dash never stopped. He threw erasers at Danny during class, tripped him in the halls, called out teasing names every chance he got.

"I'm not the only one who thinks this is weird, right?" Danny asks Tucker on the third day.

Already done his lunch, Tucker is thoroughly engrossed by his phone and doesn't look up as he replies. "You think everything is weird lately."

"Because it is."

"Missing your quality time with Dash?" Tucker flashes a quick grin in Danny's direction before returning to his phone.

"Har, har. You are so funny." Danny would have to be some kind of masochist to miss Dash's badgering. It's just... strange, not to have to watch the halls for him in that way. It doesn't make Danny watch any less—in fact, he finds himself looking for Dash more than before. So that he can run away if he gets close. Except Dash isn't even trying, and that annoys the hell out of him.

Tucker sighs, finally putting down his phone, and rests a hand on Danny's head. "Such a hopeless young soul. Can't even understand your own heart."

Danny slaps the hand away. "Says the guy who asked out every girl in school because they all made him feel the same way because it turns out he's super ace and didn't actually feel anything for any of them."

"And what an emotional journey that was." Tucker faces Danny head-on. "Look, Danny. If it's bothering you that much, then go talk to him. Feed him some excuse about what happened. Just remember that there's a reason Sam and I think it will be okay."

Danny ponders Tucker's advice for the rest of the day. The weekend starts tomorrow, which gives him two whole Dash-free days to think about the situation. Maybe a little time to himself as what he needs. He goes for a flight after school rather than walking home with Tucker; being in the air always helps clear his head.

He soars far above the city until he is little more than a pinprick to everyone far below. At the peak of his flight, his phone rings. The caller ID shows it's Jazz.

"What's up?" he greets his sister.

"Taken over my room yet?" Jazz asks.

"When you've only been at college for a month? Of course." It made a great storage space. Danny turns over to float on his stomach and starts drifting down like a leaf, falling back and forth on the wind.

"Well, I'm gonna need it back this weekend."

"Dropping out already?"

"You wish. I got a tutoring gig: two sessions—Saturday and Sunday. I don't want to do the two hours there and back both days, so I'm coming home for the weekend."

"I can't believe someone is actually paying to spend time with you. Hope the loser doesn't rub off on them."

Jazz laughs. "Pretty sure any loser on my came from you. And it's four people. Actually, you know them."

When Danny comes downstairs Saturday morning and sees Jazz's students at the kitchen table, he stops dead.

"You have got to be kidding me," he says.

"Hi, Danny!" Paulina waves, far too perky for nine in the morning. Squished around the table with her, Kwan and Star offer their own small waves. Dash looks straight down at his textbook.

"Goodbye." Danny pivots and marches back toward the stairs. Forget breakfast; he didn't want to eat, anyway. He can still have a nice, relaxing, Dash-free day in the confines of his bedroom.

A cascade of whispers reaches his ears as he hits the first stair. The A-listers murmur too quiet for him to make out what they're saying, although he thinks he catches his name more than once. Maybe they're talking about how uncanny it is being inside his house. Or, perhaps, they're discussing the new school nurse, Tammy. But even as he thinks it, he knows neither theory is true.

A chair screeches in the kitchen, the plastic capped legs scraping against the linoleum. Danny throws himself up the stairs.

"Oh, Danny, wait!" Paulina's silky voice follows him.

He jerks to a stop at the landing, cringing. How mad would she be if he ignored her? It's funny to think that a few years ago his heart would have leapt at Paulina calling out his name, back when he had a crush on her.

His toes curl against the carpet as he hesitates; the pros and cons of ignoring her run through his head. Pro: he won't have to deal with whatever scheme she's up to, and Paulina is most certainly up to something. Con: she might sic Dash on him, and he's the last person Danny wants to see right now. But that's a moot point because Dash is already here. After some humming and hawing, he grits his teeth and turns back around.

Paulina hangs out the kitchen doorway, greeting him with a bright smile.

"Yes, Paulina?" Danny asks.

It should be physically impossible for her smile to get any wider, and yet it does. "You're having trouble in science class, right?"

Danny hesitates. "Maybe. Why?"

"So are we! We came here for a study session with your sister, since she was Casper's best student in thirty decades. You should join us!"

"Isn't Star acing all her classes? And I thought science was your best class."

Paulina rolls her eyes and huffs, but without any malice. It reminds him of the look Tucker gives his little cousins when they are being intentionally obstinate. Danny flushes, suddenly feeling stupid even though he doesn't understand why.

"Yeah, we're good at it, but the boys aren't. Duh." She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. "It's easier to study in a group."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I like studying alone."

Paulina's smile doesn't fall, but it changes. Danny can't quite place what it turns into. Her mouth curves upward and her teeth are exposed; objectively, it's still a smile. But there's a new tension to it, one Danny only notices now, but he thinks might have been there the whole time, lurking behind the bright façade. His grip on the newel post tightens, the wood creaking beneath his finger.

At times like this, Danny wishes his ghost abilities included reading emotions. The look Paulina is giving him is important, he can feel it, even though he can't explain it. But it doesn't mean anything if he can't decipher it.

"If you say so." The moment shatters. Paulina withdraws back into the kitchen, leaving Danny alone and wondering if he missed something important.

Down the hall from him, Jazz's bedroom door opens. She emerges with an armful of books—old schoolbooks, Danny notes.

"Not hanging out with Sam and Tucker today?" she asks.

"Jazz, it's not even noon yet. I don't think Tucker's awake." Danny glances down the stairs toward the kitchen, mulling something over in his head. "I kind of want some alone time today. I know you're tutoring and everything, but could you make sure they don't bother me?"

Jazz frowns. "Is everything okay?"

"There was an... incident with Dash at school."

"Boy troubles?"

"Jazz!" Danny's entire face turns scarlet. "Please never say that about Dash." He lowers his voice. "It was ghost-related troubles."

Jazz's expression goes stony, her teasing smile replaced by a serious frown. "Do I need to take care of him for you?"

"Oh, my God, Jazz! Just keep him away from my room!" He marches the rest of the way to his room to the sound of Jazz's snickers and slams the door behind him.

When Paulina returns to the kitchen, Dash sits up straighter. She shakes her head as she reclaims her seat next to Star. Dash deflates again.

"I told you this wouldn't work," Dash says.

"Don't be so silly. That wasn't even plan A, although it would make things easier. Are you sure you didn't do anything to him in that change room?" Paulina asks.

Dash groans. "Please. Please never say anything like that again. It sounds so wrong."

"You're the one who took it that way."

Star and Kwan laugh at Dash's misfortune, watching him bury his face in his arms. When Star suggested they gather evidence, to confirm whether or not Danny was being abused at home, this wasn't what Dash expected. He pictured spy movie antics with them sneaking through the bushes dressed all in black, peeking through windows until they say something that proved—or disproved—their theory.

Things would go a lot easier if Dash could actually talk to Danny, but ever since that moment in the change room, he can't. He knows Danny has been avoiding him, which is better short term. If Danny walked up to Dash right now demanding to talk about what happened, Dash wouldn't know what to say.

How many times has he hurt Danny (pushed, kicked, body-checked) when he was injured? There's a possibility, however slim, that this was a fluke, the first time Danny has ever come to school injured. There have to be loads of reasons someone might not go to the hospital, such as bad insurance. Dash's cousin broke her nose once and let it heal crooked instead of going to the doctor since it was cheaper. He's heard stories of people sacrificing their health rather than paying exorbitant hospital fees. It's not impossible.

Except Danny's parents are inventors. They do projects for the government and can afford to throw money around for ridiculous ghost hunting contraptions. The Emergency Ops Centre only two floors above them must have cost millions. If that's the case, then surely his parents can afford a hospital visit for such a bad wound.

Dash doesn’t like to think about the alternative, but he has to. The alternative is the whole reason he and his friends are here.

That doesn't help with Dash's other dilemma, though. How is he supposed to talk to Fenton, now? Dash doesn't think he knows how to interact with Danny without some form of aggression. Even when he stopped outright bullying people, he never stopped with Danny. A push here, a shove there. It is instinct for Dash to stick his foot out if he sees Danny coming.

Danny even returns the favour, sometimes, growing bolder the older they became. Dash still doesn't know how Danny keeps getting into his stuffed bear collection, but it's not unusual for him to find one in his locker or sitting at his desk when he returns to class.

It's what they do. Dash can't help it. Any time he manages to trip Danny up enough that he gets a glare or a vengeful smile, it makes him feel good.

But he can't do that now. If Danny is actually getting hurt at home, Dash can't in his right mind keep agitating him. Just thinking about what he did to Danny's stitches makes him pale. He doesn't even want to think about what other wounds he's made worse over the years.

And he has. Dash knows this without a doubt. Thinking back on their interactions this year alone, more than five occasions come to mind where Danny grimaced, or flinched, or clutched some part of his body after Danny bumped his shoulder in the hall. It feels him with an indescribable dread, but the worst of it is he can't understand why.

He never knew Danny was injured; he can't be entirely to blame. Thinking that does nothing to assuage his guilt, though.

"Okay!" Jazz Fenton announces herself with a bright chirp. She clutches a stack of textbooks to her chest; books Dash recognizes from their classes. The idea that she stole them from the school flashes through his mind, but that's ludicrous. Jazz doesn't have a criminally minded bone in her body. If anything, she bought them, or the school gave them to her for being that amazing. Either option is more likely than her committing a crime.

Jazz slams the books down on the table directly across from Dash. She flashes him a brilliant smile as she sits and folds her hands over the table.

"So, Dash." She tilts her head. Her smile no longer looks kind. "I've heard some interesting things about you."

Previous | Next

[riofann]

Rio Random 4

Things got a lot better after that, to your surprise. But you had both decided that you were basically going to do a redo and actively  work on your relationship. It was a bit difficult at first. But you felt better when you saw Mick removing drugs from your house. He also got you a security system that you could look at from your phone to see who has been in and around the house. You didn’t smell Beth around your house as often either. You actually didn't hear much about Beth, as far as you were concerned things were being dealt with.   

Rio would stop by two times a week at least on top of dates breakfast, lunch, brunch, dinner, or dessert. He was a romantic at heart actually, you would find flowers at home or at work sitting on your desk. He often used to look at you and smile which made you blush. You also met Marcus and Rhea one night at a state fair. Rhea was like Rio, hard to read you could see why the two ended up together. All together your relationship was far from perfect but you could honestly say you were happy. 

One late afternoon you rushed home from work. Rio had sent you a text saying he had left a present for you. He often did this when he found lingerie that he liked and wanted you to wear it. Some dates he had dressed you from head to toe, others he provided the undergarments. Not that your taste was bad but he enjoyed doing this. 

When you open the door to your home you hear voices coming from the bottom of your house before you could turn around and walk away you come face to face with a strange woman. 

“Uh hi” Ruby greets uneasily 

“Who are you?” You ask 

“Uh Krystal”

Quickly Beth comes around the corner “Oh Y/N I was just ummm....”

You close your door now pissed, what are you doing in my house. Mick had moved all the drugs from your home, Rio had promised you nothing was left in your house. You looked around to see your house in disarray before turning your attention back to Beth  and these other women.

“Oh well Rio wanted me to drop off something”

“Did he? Inside my house? He doesn’t even have a key, so how’d you get in?” 

“Well Mick helped with that” “Okay what are you dropping off” 

“Uh,” “Right let me just give him a call I’m sure he would love to hear about this”

“NO! Let's not bother him you know he is busy right Be... be be because he wouldn't like that right Krys?” Annie interjects

“Or should I call the police?”

Without warning Beth pulled out her gun and pointed it at you

“What are you doing?” Ruby asked in horror 

“Alright Sit” she says motioning with the gun 

“Are you gonna tell me what you're doing here in my house Elizabeth?”

Instinctively the two women looked at her as she looked shocked as well “How did you?” 

“Elizabeth Boland, you have  5 children with your ex husband Dean right? Used to be a stay at home wife? Did I get that right?” 

“SIT!” she demands “No, what are you gonna do? shoot me?”

“SIT!” she turns to look at Annie and Ruby before turning her attention back to you “Who told you?” 

“Oh uh Mrs. Doubtfire...  Yea i was stopping by to give you that book i borrowed and she said there was no such thing as Krystal had no idea what i was talking about then she told me everything”

“That damn woman” 

“SIT!” 

“NO!  If you're gonna point a gun at me then I expect you to shoot.” 

Ruby tugs at her arm “Beth lets just go” “NO ITS HERE” she yells while yanking her arm back  “you think you are so special, that's what he does you know. Make you feel special then he just dumps you like you're nothing!”

“But I’m not you Beth, and i'm not Rio, so whatever you're looking for its not here and whatever beef you have take it up with him”

“I SAID SIT!” 

“I'm not deaf i don't know why you're yelling” 

“Beth” Annie tries to calm the situation Beth with a bewildered look turns to look at Annie “NO!”

“This is bad” Ruby comments 

“You can't just threaten her life because of some guy....Beth” Annie states  

“I am not all I need her to do is sit Annie!....I know that it’s here it just has to be...” 

As they argued within themselves you felt like it was the perfect opportunity to sneak away as you got close to the door. You turned abruptly to open it when you heard commotion followed by  sharp pain on your side, you looked down to see blood seeping through your clothes. You slowly fall to the floor back resting against the wall. 

“OH MY GOD BETH!” “SHE WAS GETTING AWAY” she defends “HE IS GOING TO KILL US” Annie states looking at her sister like she had 5 heads “I’M SO SORRY Y/N” she says rushing towards you 

“YOU BITCH” You kick her in the chest causing her to fall back, you groan and hold onto your side 

“This isn't good please don't kick me none of this was supposed to happen” Ruby says slowly crouching down next to you

“Put pressure on it” Annie instructs

“I need towels!” 

“It's gonna be okay” Ruby tries her best to sooth you “I can't believe you” 

“I didn't” Beth says while holding onto your wound

Annie rushed back with towels in hand

“Uh guys we have to take her to the hospital” You don’t know when it happens but you start to fade away “Y/N! Can you stand?” “Y/N!” Annie calls your name “she's not... Y/N stay awake 

“What's wrong with you?” Ruby scolds

“What? Ruby..” 

“Why are you trigger happy”

“It was an accident, help me get her in the car!” 

“Well we can't go out the front door”

“Then help me get her through the fucking back door Annie”

“Oh my god” Annie says throwing her hands up 

When 30 minutes pass Rio is beyond infuriated with you. You were not picking up his calls or answering his texts and from what he knew you were at home.He doesn’t  know why you flaked on him, he thinks you were in a drunken slumber wondering how you got back into it, you had shown signs of improvement. 

When he gets to your house however he opens the door, he hears Coconut’s barking and he immediately spots the pool of blood by the door

“Go find her is all he needs to say to Mick”  

He walks through your home, there were multiple holes cut in your walls, holes in the cushion seat on the couch, furniture overturned. When he walks into the bedroom everything is in disarray just like the living area. Carefully he walks down the steps and spots your bag. He thinks you were ambushed. His mind goes into overdrive and is thinking of who would have the gull to do such a thing as far as he was concerned everyone knew enemy wise especially in this line of business that children and wives/girlfriends were out of the question. So whoever had the gull to do such a thing was bold and he’s wondering who it could be. He makes a few calls before he’s sitting in front of your laptop trying to log in. another phone call and he’s given the password. When he looks through the security footage nothing but rage takes over. 

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

After pacing the floor in silence Ruby explodes with emotion “He is going to kill us!” 

“He doesn't know where we are” Beth counters

“I have a child Beth and I need to call Stan and let him know what’s going on!” 

“So do I Ruby, I have 5 to be exact,  he wont do anything she's just a placeholder anyway”

Ruby looks at her in disbelief “Are you kidding me he broke up with YOU to be with HER she is no placeholder”

“She's not special he can find another woman  like her anytime soon” Beth states dismissively 

“Beth i don't like this you need to call him and tell him it was a  mistake” Annie jumps into the conversation 

“Relax he doesn't know where we are he’s not stupid plus Dean will throw his ass in jail”

Putting her hands up Ruby states “I can’t believe you” before she walks away A brief moment of silence before Beth’s phone starts ringing

When they all look at the phone only unknown flashes through the screen after the 5th time the screen is black for good

“Elizabeth please for our sake just tell him” Ruby pleads “we can’t be hidden forever” 

“NO! Now shut up and let me think!” 

“Or what you're gonna shoot me” Ruby expresses frustrated 

“It was an accident!” 

Ruby scoffs, “Like shooting him too? I'm starting to think you’re trigger happy”

“Don't start accusing me you shot someone in the foot!” 

“That was an accident! We all know it was, but you just can't let this life go huh. You can't let this power go so whoever stands in your way you're gonna get rid of them” 

Beth walked up to Ruby looking at her right in the eye “You're right so move out of my way” she didn't have time to be arguing with her so if that meant intimidating her she would. 

Annie quickly got between the two and separated them. “Guys i cant right now please not now, i can't deal with this, we just need to stick together” 

Beth was right Rio couldn't locate them at first but he had found you. You were in the surgical icu stabilizing after your surgery. Because you were considered a Jane Doe no one was really allowed to see you, but Rio had his connections and he walked in to see you fast asleep before walking out. He says nothing as Mick drives him over to Beth’s house. Nothing was out of the ordinary except Beth was missing. He also had other cars posted outside of Ruby’s house and Annie's. 

“Aii bet” he hangs up the phone irritated that no one could locate Beth, she had become a protégé, so good at hiding things from him now. 

"You gon’ have to get rid of her” Mick states before looking at Rio,  “She shot you, planned your assassination," he scoffs "stolen, sabotaged, lied, how much more you gon let her get away with"

“I cant get rid of her, if i do i gotta deal with the other 2, not to mention the stupid ass husbands that's almost 10 kids in foster care, too much heat its bad for business now anyway, plus I'm still under the microscope cuz of Turner” 

“Both can’t co exist  though, so you either with Beth or you with Y/N.”

“Fuck me”

“Gotta make a move boss”

“Ima figure something out” 

It takes 2 days but he finally locates them. Abruptly woken from their sleep and thrown in a van they find themselves in an unknown place, kneeling in front of him, with plastic bags underneath them. 

“Please i have children” Beth tries to plead her case 

Rio’s shoulders roll back before he speaks “Nah see you can’t keep doing that mama, you can't keep provoking me and asking for mercy cuz you got kids.”

“I'm a mother, they need their mother!”

“Please Rio” Ruby interjects 

“See that's the problem, I hoped you being a mother, you would actually be more careful but I get it now. You just wanna be reckless and use me as your cover. Shoot me 3 times it's my fault. Steal my fault, lie my fault, plot to kill me my fault" his shoulders roll "what was Y/N’s fault why you shoot her?" Already knowing the answer he wanted to see what she would  say 

"She knows my name I know you told her"

"She's my girl"

"Right just like I was but unlike her you can't replace me you need me!” 

"Humor me Beth, are you jealous?" 

Beth scoffs “of what?"  

"Y/N"

She scoffs again "you wish! You probably get off knowing 2 women want you" 

He licks his bottom lip and smiles. It takes a minute before he speaks “So what should i do with you, all of you? I know I’m tired of this game, we’ve been playing it for too long. Aint y’all tired of wondering if im gon kill you?” He asks addressing Annie and Ruby

“Please I promise to walk away” Annie offers 

“Annie shut up!” Beth scolds 

“NO! YOU SHUT UP BETH GOD YOU ARE SELFISH! ALWAYS HAVE BEEN!” 

“Annie I’m trying to....” Before she can finish she stops after she hears her phone ringing  

Rio looks down at the phone “Talk it out I gotta take this call” he says before walking away 

The girls don’t say anything but look at each other. When they see him return Beth comments “I got this let me speak.” waiting for him to sit down before she begins “You can’t kill us and you know it. So you can run back to your little girlfriend and kiss her wound and tell her she's special and I'll go back to doing my thing” she says snidely Both Annie and Ruby looked at her shocked.

“She is, it could have been you but the 3 bullets kinda changed my mind”

“OH MY GOD! Can you let that go!”

“I did then I found out you hired a hitman and some kid to shoot me. Things change all the time between us,  you know this”

“So what are you gonna do? Because we have work to do”

“I know.” He nods at the men behind them. The zip ties are cut before he walks away “I’ll see you around yea?”

When he leaves they all look at each other shocked that he even let them walk away. They remain in that position until all the men leave. 

“See I told you!”

“I can’t do this Beth you need some serious help and I’m not willing to wager my family as collateral for it”  Ruby states “It worked” “For you! Not for us, you think it's just a one woman show where you do everything? Like your actions don’t have any effect on our lives'' “Ruby it worked I don’t know why you’re being such a baby about it” “Yea well better that than you” 

Annie interjects once again  before things get heated “Guys can we just figure out how to get home”

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

“So what now?” Mick asks frustrated with the whole thing. “She still working for you?”  he knew the pattern all too well Beth would do something to get back at Rio 

“Nah we moving, leaving Michigan, getting new headquarters. She wanna run the business? Cool, but no protection, no muscle, no supply of weapons, no connections, yea she can print money but she can’t operate or deal, not without me. Make sure everyone knows if they entertain her they are dead. I don’t care what it is if I find out I’m putting a bounty on your head. She right though I can’t kill her but i can kill her business” 

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

It took a few days but when you regain consciousness in the hospital you see one of Rio’s men at least you’re assuming he is sitting by you. You two don’t speak and you go back to sleep. The next day police stop by to question you about your shooting, you tell them the story Rio’s guy told you, a home invasion gone wrong. They leave satisfied with the explanation. Rio comes to visit a few days after  you have been moved to a step down unit that was more private.

The door opens and you watch as he walks in “Rio”

Hey mama he approaches you with hands behind his back and as he gets closer a cute teddy bear that has ‘get well soon on it’ 

“How you feeling?”  he asks taking a seat next to you on the bed 

“I got shot” you state factually

“You got shot” he says moving the hair from your face 

“Where have you been? The cops came to see me”

“I know they stopped by, I was handling something. Did you tell them what Honcho told you to say?”

“Yes” 

He smiles and looks at you with a face you can’t quite read

“So where is she?” 

You were hoping he would say dead in a ditch somewhere or something along the lines of ‘you never have to worry about her’ but what he said made you more angry

“At home”

“She's alive?”

“Yea” 

You roll your eyes, was she gonna be thorn on your side for the rest of your life with Rio? “But she won’t bother you” “Yea said that last time and now i have a bullet hole on my side that says otherwise” “Nah she won’t be able to reach you this time cuz we leaving, after you get discharged” 

“What? You want me to move?” 

“Yea,we can...”  You interrupt "There's no we anymore, you're like a bad omen. In less than a year since  i met you I get shot and now i have a bullet wound because of your unhinged ex that you couldn't keep in check and you still think there's a 'we' " 

“I told you,” he runs his hand down his chin “i asked you to be patient” he speaks softly 

“Be patient, meant with you! So you could change not ‘be patient, my crazy ex who i can't control will shoot you months from now but i still need you to understand” you say sarcasm laced in your tone 

“Y/N” “You told me to treat you like any other guy on the street, so I am. We are done!” 

“You can't stay here” he stresses “Why not?” “Beth isn’t my only enemy, and once she finds out my plans she will go to them for revenge” 

“So where are we going? I have a career here! Aunt Brenda and Mia, my parents, I visit their graves often”  

“They can come visit you, You can always get another job, it’s not safe for you here Y/N”

“Was it ever safe? Didn’t you have enemies before? Was I not in danger then” 

“This is different, Beth is vengeful I can’t risk it” 

“Where are we going?” 

“I can't tell you, not now I’m still figuring that out” 

“Typical” “Listen i'm packing up your house I’m gonna get you a new place in a new city you'll get a job” 

“Rio are you kidding me you want me to just up and leave?” “Yea,” he stands up and looks down at you  “it’s non negotiable, i gotta protect you, after you get discharged we leaving” 

“Protect me? From who? The only person I need protection from is you. Rein que le diable (nothing but the devil)” 

He stares at you for a moment  “get some rest” he says before kissing your forehead. He didn’t care about how you felt in the moment protecting you, Marcus, and Rhea were his top priority and he knew that always came with push back no matter who he was talking to.

A/N: as always tell me what you think. Not really a fan of this chapter didn’t know how to go around it. 

[hotchley]

heavy is the head that wears the crown

Hey besties...

This was my first CM fic, and it was only on ao3, so I am now cross-posting it almost a whole year later because I changed my url and was redoing my masterlists so... yeah.

IT IS FROM A YEAR AGO PLEASE DO NOT COME FOR ME IT'S ALMOST EMBARRASSING JUST COPYING IT </3

Trigger Warnings: depictions of child abuse, aftermath of abuse, canon-typical violence, references to self-harm (it’s not depicted, but hotch has some unhealthy thoughts in the hardwick scene), heavily implied sexual content

read on ao3!

I

He remembers the last time his father laid a hand on him perfectly. He remembers it perfectly because it was the most painful. When he was feeling particularly low, he wondered if his father knew he was going to die and wanted to watch his oldest son try and hold himself together as one small act of defiance.

He remembers how each strike with the belt hurt more than the last. He remembers how he tried to keep his voice down, because Sean was sleeping, and he didn’t need to ever find out that their father was a bastard. He remembers that the pain became unbearable the moment his father pressed the still lit cigarette to the cuts and that he had screamed so loudly, he was scared the neighbours would come running. Remembers how his father had yanked his hair so hard more tears pooled in the corner of his eyes.

But they didn’t fall. Not when his father shoved him to the ground and left him to deal with his injuries himself. They didn’t fall then because he knew that for one more night, his mother and Sean would be safe from his touch. And that would have to be enough to keep him going.

They didn’t fall when the nice lady from reception asked to speak to him and told him how sorry she was but the hospital had phoned to say his father was dead after suffering a heart attack at work. He didn’t cry then because he was too busy thinking about how Sean was going to be destroyed. And his mother would likely retreat further into herself, leaving him to pick up the pieces and take over the home.

He didn’t break at the funeral. Sean was clinging to his hand, tears streaming down his face, even as he didn’t understand why daddy wasn’t coming home. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream, because despite everything that man had done to him, he had never touched Sean, not even when he had been at boarding school and unable to protect him. But he didn’t, because neither he nor his brother had access to their inheritance, and they needed to survive. His mother wouldn’t work- and he wouldn’t want her to. But it meant it was up to him.

So he looked at himself in the mirror, put the mask that transformed him from Aaron, the delightful teenager who was in the theatre club, into Mr Hotchner, the man who could provide for his family and be who they needed him to be.

It was almost too easy.

II

If he thought about it for too long, he would classify the whole incident with Vincent Perotta as his version of a breakdown. As the garrotte tightened around his neck, and as it became harder and harder to fill his lungs with the need to live, all he could think of was his father and Haley. His father smirking as his eldest son finally met the end he deserved- killed by someone he should have been able to defeat in the dark because he had gotten distracted- and Haley, home with a son barely old enough to hold his own head up.

Haley.

The image of her holding their son gave him the strength to shove the unsub- he didn’t deserve to be named- away. And then the flashlights came into view and he knew he was safe. They had come to get him. He wasn’t alone. The relief was quickly overshadowed by the officer they still had to find, and the confession they still needed. He should have known Gideon would know why he had refused everyone’s offers of help. Why he hadn’t even loosened his tie. The ghost of his father saying he deserved the pain still haunted him.

He hadn’t wanted to finish it. He had wanted to stay as far away from that bastard as he could. But Jason Gideon never asked questions. He phrased demands as questions. So he put back on the Unit Chief mask and said sure. But he knew as soon as he said some that he had messed up. He just hoped nobody else would notice.

The world had never been kind to him.

He didn’t know why he didn’t just walk out without responding. Why he chose to stand there and admit- or as close as he would ever get to admitting- that his father had abused him. That the shards of his words and actions still broke his skin and damaged his heart and filled his lungs with poison that he had to inhale. Maybe it was because he needed to remind himself. He was not his father, and he never would be.

Haley was awake when he got home. He felt bad, she needed all the rest she could get, but she had smiled, and said she loved him. It sounded like a reminder rather than a confession. He had managed to smile, gratefully getting in the bath she had run for him, scrubbing the hands of a murderer off of his skin.

She made love to him that night. Took her time, brushing her lips over every bruise and scar. He had wanted all the lights off, still disgusted by the sight of his father on his body, but she had asked if having the lamp on the dimmest setting was okay, and he had said okay. She said she was so proud of him- was always so proud of him. And she didn’t laugh at the tears that fell after.

He wondered what Jason had said when he phoned, but he never asked.

III

After Reid killed Tobias Hankel, he kept it together. He had to. Because as clever as Spencer thought he was being, everyone knew he was keeping information from them. And Hotch wasn’t going to let him become the next Elle. He wasn’t going to let Gideon convince him everything was fine, because it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be. Not for a while. Maybe not ever. But that wasn’t the priority. The priority was making sure Reid would be okay at the hospital. Then to get home. Then to give his statement. It wasn’t about making him better. It was about helping him get through each stage.

He didn’t break, because his team already hated him. Reid had called him a narcissist, and whilst he knew what was really being said, he couldn’t help but worry his youngest agent thought it was true. He knew Reid had initially believed what he had said to Phillip Dowd, but they had worked to move on from that. He thought they had. Maybe they hadn’t. Maybe Reid really did think Hotch viewed himself as better than everyone. If only he knew the truth.

Morgan had called him a drill sergeant, but he could handle that. Prentiss saying he trusted men more than women wasn’t hard to understand. He could argue that in her case, it was justified. But JJ calling him a bully without any hesitation had been like a knife to the heart. Worse than that. It had been like a small paper cut on each part of his body, so the pain would never fade. Not properly, because as soon as it stopped in one place, it started in another. He had tried so hard to love all of them. Especially her. She reminded him of Haley. Not because he was attracted to her- he wasn’t, no matter what rumours flew around- but because of her spirit. Her kindness. Her warmth towards everyone. Her willingness to trust. Her ability to be good, despite all she had seen.

Jason had been the only one to not say anything. But Hotch knew he would’ve had something to say. That was why he’d cut them off, started talking about an argument he had forgotten until then.

He didn’t break that night. Or the night after. He pulled away from the team, observing from a distance. He didn’t deserve to cry. Not when it was his fault Reid was struggling with a drug addiction he thought he was hiding. His fault JJ couldn’t even look at dogs without shaking.

It was his fault. He would lock away his need to fall apart until he could look at them without guilt clouding his mind.

IV

Deep down, he knew he would be going back to an empty house after leaving for the case. Still, it was painful to see almost every trace of Haley and Jack gone. It hurt to look around the place they were meant to raise their son together and only see his own clothes and shoes. The plates Haley had picked because they were more fun than the set from her parents. The crib he had assembled before leaving. Jack had migrated to a bed, but they had just never gotten around to getting rid of it. The photos from the case that had ended everything.

He sat on their bed, head in his hands. At some point he started crying. For everything he had done wrong, for everything he was going to still screw up.

And then the phone rang. And Spencer was speaking too quickly for him to understand everything that had happened, but he managed to grasp the most important fact: Gideon was gone. He had left them. With nothing but a letter, addressed to Spencer, that he had left at the now cleared out cabin.

Despite the weariness stamped into his bones, he told Spencer to stay where he was. He drove to pick him up, took him back to his apartment. Said Haley would understand when he started to panic about taking him away from his wife. He rocked Spencer to sleep, singing the same lullabies he heard Haley sing to Jack when he wouldn’t stop shrieking. Noted there were no new marks on his arms and breathed a sigh of relief. He had to stop pulling away from Reid now Gideon was gone.

He couldn’t believe it. Well. He could believe Gideon leaving, always knew the day would come where he would decide he couldn’t do it anymore, and he had thought that day would be when Bale blew up six of their best agents, but when it didn’t happen then, he had dared to hope that it would never happen. He couldn’t believe Gideon had left the way he had. With only a goodbye to Spencer.

And he wanted to be mad at Spencer, because he was there and it would be so easy, but he looked at his sleeping figure, and knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault. But he was mad at Gideon for only saying goodbye to Spencer. Because he had been the one to step up and become Unit Chief when Gideon was placed on leave. He had sacrificed his marriage and his life to make sure the team stayed together. Him. Not Morgan, definitely not Reid. Wasn’t he worth saying goodbye to? Had he really meant that little to Gideon?

For the next few weeks, everything served as a reminder. Reid quoting something or other reminded him of a book Gideon had recommended. A smile from a stranger in the street reminded him of Haley. The silence of a too big house reminded him of how he had failed. A comment about fallen agents made him think of Jason and Elle.

He wanted to walk away as well. Beg Strauss for that transfer and go to Haley. Tell her he would do anything, if she would just come home. But his team- the team Gideon had already abandoned- were depending on him. They didn’t hate him now, but they would if he left as well. So he helped JJ with the requests, took interest in the languages Prentiss could speak, offered to listen to each and everyone of Reid’s lectures. He let Morgan take control every once in a while.

And if he became more Hotch than Aaron in doing so, then that was the price he would pay for not being better.

V

Chester Hardwick was- for lack of a better term- an absolute shit show. Going into a cell with a dangerous serial killer and picking a fight with him had not been the plan. The initial plan had been to get in there, do the interview as quickly as possible, drive back to Quantico in silence- Reid never spoke on the return journey (he had never fully decided if he hated or loved that)- and ignore Haley’s demands for another night.

Then JJ phoned. And he knew she was trying to keep her tone professional, to not pass judgement on his soon-to-be ex-wife, but it was impossible to miss. Haley had clearly made it into a big deal that he hadn’t answered her calls. It angered him. He didn’t want to give up his son, or only be able to see him on the weekends because it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t guarantee he would even be available on the weekends, but he could guarantee to be there after a case.

Haley didn’t want to accept that. She didn’t want to amend the custody agreement. He didn’t want to go to court and have his faults brandished, but he didn’t want to back down. Which meant they were stuck. And she knew he would eventually be forced to give in and lose.

Again.

He told himself he needed to keep it together. He wouldn’t shout at Reid, not when he was still recovering from Hankel, from Gideon, from all the other bad things that had happened to him since then. And if he was being completely honest, he probably couldn’t shout at Reid, even if he needed to. For although he knew Spencer wasn’t the same innocent, uncoordinated mess that had joined his unit five years ago, he was still so good and kind. Hotch wouldn’t take that from him by shouting because he was frustrated at himself.

Instead, he provoked a dangerous serial killer. That had been one of the few things Haley had never gotten wrong about him: he never did things half-heartedly.

So instead of asking questions to help understand why Hardwick had killed all those women, he shrugged his jacket off, loosened his tie (the memory of cold metal pressed against his neck still woke him even now) and raised his hands on a man who could very easily take any of the things in the room and kill him.

It was stupid. It was reckless. It was the kind of behaviour his father would beat him for, that Haley would shout at him for, and that Rossi would probably give him a round of applause and a drink.

But he was so angry at everything and everyone and he needed to relieve the tension but he couldn’t do it by going down the firing range and shooting a gun because it wasn’t the same. Maybe he was exactly like his father in that respect. Maybe it was the first step into becoming the monster he always knew he would be. It was unfair to say all abused children became abusers. It was fair to say profilers were just unsubs on the right side of the law. Sure, they did the right thing, but at the end of the day, they knew how serial killers and child abducters worked. Crossing the line wouldn’t be hard for any of them.

He raised his fists at a serial killer because he needed to feel something under them. He needed to release the anger and sadness and guilt that flowed beneath his veins. Needed to see the blood on his fists from punching something too hard as a reminder he was human. And he knew that wasn’t healthy, but it was the truth.

Something he had never been good with.

It was stupid. And he should have- could have, very easily- died.

But of course Reid saved him. Dr Spencer Reid, who was always rattling off statistics nobody understood, who had almost been sick at his first crime scene, who had teared up during his first solo interrogation, saved him. By playing to his strengths. He went on and on about the effects of abuse on a child, about the psychology behind finding release in murder, about what made someone into a serial killer.

He kept his audience of one captive for so long that the guards came and unlocked the door without Hardwick ever laying a hand on either of them. He managed to talk a serial killer out of murdering two federal agents. Hotch felt so proud. And disgusted with himself. Reid had talked long enough for the anger to evaporate into thin air and the shame to rain down on him like a storm.

What had he done? It wasn’t falling apart, because he knew what it was like when he fell apart, and that wasn’t it, but it was horrifying. Humiliating. He had put himself and his own issues above Reid’s safety.

He was every bit the narcissist Reid had once described him as being. The thought made him sick. Today it had been a serial killer, but how long before it became his team? Before it became his son?

He felt sick. But he forced himself to get behind the wheel, rejecting Reid’s offer to take over the driving for a little bit. He knew Reid hated driving. But when they had been on the road for a good twenty minutes, and the younger agent still hadn’t said anything about the journey back, or the sky, or the cars around them, he knew he had screwed up.

Scratch that. He had fucked up.

Which was why he told Reid the truth. He hated speaking about his personal life, had always struggled with being open with others, especially the people he worked with because he was the Unit Chief and that meant he was supposed to be there as a strong presence that couldn’t be harmed, but Reid deserved to know why Hotch had been so willing to try and get himself killed.

“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have endangered you like that. It was wrong, and if you want to say something to Rossi or Strauss, I won’t stop you,” he said, after his confession that he couldn’t get what he wanted.

“I won’t say anything Hotch. You would never purposely disregard my safety. Even if you put yourself at risk, any harm that happened to me wouldn’t be deliberate. I know you kick better than a nine year old girl, and that you were holding back with Dowd because you didn’t want to hurt me too badly. And you didn’t,” Reid replied.

His throat went dry. “Hurt you too badly? As in, I did hurt you?”

The sudden fear he radiated made Reid pause. A bad move. Hotch was a damn good profiler, and whilst he always tried to follow the no inter-team profiling rule, some things were just too obvious to miss.

“I need to pull over,” he said.

Reid nodded, face pale and terrified. Luckily, he didn’t follow when he got out the car. And when he returned, Reid handed him a bottle of water and a mint.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he had whispered after Hotch had begrudgingly taken both.

“I hurt you,” Hotch replied. There was no point in trying to be the Unit Chief now. Reid had dismantled his shields by accident, and no suit or back-up weapon could prevent Aaron emerging and taking over from SSA Hotchner.

“But it wasn’t intentional then, and it wasn’t intentional with Hardwick. And you would never hurt Jack. Not in the way you think you may. I’m not saying you’re never going to make a mistake, you will, but you won’t hurt him the way your father did. You’re too good of a person to do it. I saw you holding Jack. The love in your eyes couldn’t be faked. And the way you rocked me to sleep after Gideon left was gentle and kind. You made a mistake with Hardwick. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be perfect. Not with us.”

Hotch stared at him. “I- how do you know about my father?” he asked, defences rising. The only members of the team who had known were Gideon who never followed the rules, and Dave, who had always had a soft spot for him.

Spencer flushed. “I didn’t profile you. We shared a room that one time, and the door to the bathroom wasn’t closed properly so I saw the scars. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been looking.”

“It’s okay,” he said, because it had to be.

The younger man didn’t seem convinced.

“Spencer.” The use of first names always drove points home. “It’s fine. I suppose everyone was going to work it out at one point or another. Thank you for not bringing it up then.”

When they pulled into the car park at Quantico, Reid did something very unexpected. He hugged Hotch. For a moment, he stood there, frozen because it had been so long since someone had done more than shake his hand that a hug felt so foreign, but then he regained control of his body and he bought his arms up and around him.

“Thank you Spencer,” he said.

“You once said to JJ that it’s okay if you lose it every once in a while. That it reminds us that we’re human. I think you should take your own advice.”

He nodded. But he didn’t.

He signed his divorce papers without contest. Haley was right: Jack deserved better than a father who could never confirm whether or not he would be there. He deserved better than a father who woke up in the middle of the night, and he definitely deserved better than a man who’s biggest fear was not that someone else would hurt their child, but that they would be the one to hurt them.

He signed the papers.

And then he got spectacularly drunk.

VI

He used to love New York. He had never worked there, but one of the few holidays he’d had with Haley that hadn’t been cut short was spent in New York. They’d never had a case there, which was why they were both so eager to go.

It had been so nice, to be in a city, and not remember an unsub who tortured women then left their bodies in ditches, or who had preyed on vulnerable children and then manipulated them into joining their twisted cults.

He had loved New York.

And then Kate Joyner had died.

He wasn’t stupid, and his hearing wasn’t damaged when they first arrived. He heard JJ’s remark about her appearance and the tone in Emily’s voice when she had repeated his earlier statement that they had liased together.

It embarrassed him. If he had heard, then Kate definitely knew what they were saying. Not only did she have better hearing than he did, she was also pretty good at reading lips- a skill Hotch had learnt in SWAT and taught her for fun. And she had been staring at them, not him, when they spoke. It wasn’t going to be difficult for her to fill in the gaps.

They hadn’t slept together. He had been happily married at that time, still affectionately calling Haley at every opportunity. And she hadn’t been interested in him like that. They had just been friends that worked well together. He had found it easy to open up to her, and she had liked him because his Southern upbringing meant he was nothing but a gentleman to her.

Then they were both blown up, only he walked away with nothing but a ringing ear and a breaking heart. She would never do anything ever again, and it was all his fault. Everyone he cared about either left or died- his mother, Haley, Kate and Sean.

“Look man, I’m not going to pretend you’re fine because I’ve called your name twice and you haven’t even raised an eyebrow so you’re going to pull over and I’m going to drive,” Morgan shouted.

Hotch slammed the brake far too hard, and turned, glowering at his subordinate. “I could’ve crashed the car then. You don’t need to yell.”

“Yes, I do. What is going on with your ear?”

“It’s nothing.”

Morgan looked at him, the disbelief clear, but eventually rolled his eyes and turned to stare out the window. Hotch took the hint and started driving.

When they got back to Quantico, Rossi was tucked away in his office, and when Hotch looked through the paperwork he needed to fill in, he found half of it missing. JJ had left a note with her file saying she had moved his meeting with Strauss to next week. Garcia had left a batch of chocolate cupcakes with one of her many soft toys. Prentiss had already written her report, with no evidence of Reid’s input. Morgan appeared with his not too long after they returned. Reid offered to take the consults he had to do before he went home to an empty apartment.

He accepted, the impossible smile making an appearance.

His team- no, his family- were always going to be there. He realised then that he could depend on them. That they wanted him to depend on him. Because they could all trust him with their lives, and everything they had done since landing had been to show him that they understood. That he wasn’t alone.

His joy lasted till the door to his apartment swung open, and he was greeted with the impersonal furniture, boxes he hadn’t had the time to unpack. The absence of a smiling blonde and excited little boy pretending to be a superhero.

Instead of breaking, he pulled out a file about a case involving missing women. They had all been pregnant, unmarried and blonde. He hadn’t wanted JJ to see it. So he worked on a profile late into the night, only putting the file away when he was pleased the police would be able to find the unsub.

He couldn’t protect his team from a lot, but this. This he could do. It was better than them realising he wasn’t worth baking for, wasn’t worth their attempts of comfort and walked away.

I

Haley was dead. She had been killed in the home they were supposed to raise their son in together, all because he had wanted to be a hero and refused to take the deal. The deal she had never found out about and would never find out about because Foyet had murdered her. It was stupid, but Hotch wondered what would have happened if he had taken the transfer. It wouldn’t have been this.

Foyet was dead. He had killed a man with nothing but his bare hands. He was worse than his father. He had killed a man who said they had surrendered because he was angry. And he knew Foyet would have never surrendered. He would’ve waited for Hotch to move away and then killed him, found Jack and made good on his promise. He knew that, logically, there was no other option.

It didn’t make him feel any less like a monster. That was part of the reason why he had sent Jack away as soon as possible. He didn’t want his son to see him covered in blood long enough for it to become a proper memory. Didn’t want his son to see it and start asking if his daddy had been hurt by a bad guy because he didn’t want to explain that this time, daddy had been the one to hurt the bad guy. He had hurt him so badly that he was never coming back.

And neither was mommy.

The only real parent Jack had ever had was gone, and he didn’t know what to do. He had never prepared himself to have the conversation about death with Jack. It was morbid, but he had always assumed Haley would be the one explaining that sometimes bad things happen to good people, and because of that, dad wasn’t going to be coming home anymore, because he was going to go to heaven instead.

He’d never been particularly religious. But he wished he was. At least then he could believe himself when he finally told Jack that mommy had gone to heaven like some of the other kids’ grandparents.

Not for the first time, he wondered why he ever thought having kids was a good idea. He hadn’t wanted them at first. He hadn’t wanted to bring a child into the world when so many people were evil and malicious. Hadn’t wanted to put anyone else at risk of becoming the object of his anger. He didn’t want to repeat the actions of his father and become the monster in the closet he had always been terrified of.

Then he had met Haley, and she reminded him of the stars. For she brightened even the darkest moments, and he just knew that no matter what he became, if she had his children, they would shine like the brightest star, and they would never become irreparably damaged by his own paranoia and fear because she would be there for them.

Now she was gone. And it was all his fault.

But he managed to keep it together at work for his team, and at home for his son.

Jessica had been a lifesaver, taking Jack out when Hotch needed a break, staying with them until Jack had settled into the apartment properly. She even dug up old albums and gave them to Hotch, saying that he deserved to have them. The two of them had grown closer, and he was happy for that, but he just wished it hadn’t taken the death of Haley to let them bond. Jack had nightmares about a loud bang, and sometimes he would wake up crying for his mother, but Hotch had already started looking into therapists for children, and he also sat with Jack, stroking his hair and reading him stories till he fell asleep.

He never told Jack he too had nightmares about lots of things, and sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, terrified and wanting someone there to comfort him. Both Jessica and the bureau psychologist he was forced to see had told him to, but there was something- pride mainly- that prevented him from ever admitting to his son that he wasn’t okay.

At work, he compartmentalized as much as was humanly possible. The team were doing their best to cope, and he knew the only reason he’d been offered the option to take his retirement package or return, as opposed to being fired without any benefits, was because of the accounts they had given Strauss. Accounts that framed him as a man desperate to bring a killer to justice and protect his son, as opposed to a man who had become obsessed with one particular case that had hindered his ability to do his job.

He never said thank you, because he knew they wouldn’t understand. In their eyes, he had been heroic. He had done what any of them would have. But Hotch knew he hadn’t. He knew his team. They were better people than he was, and they would never have killed a man who had surrendered, no matter how bad their crimes had been.

So although he wasn’t okay, he kept it together. He kept it together for as long as he could, and he ignored his own broken heart, ignored the constant replay of the final conversation he’d ever had with Haley and the sound of gunshots ringing out. He ignored the nightmares and the memories, the sick feeling that overwhelmed him every time he remembered that Foyet had won by destroying him and then moulding him into the person he’d sworn not to become.

He stayed strong because he had to be. But it was becoming harder everyday as the threads that held him together frayed with every scream from his son’s bedroom, every sympathetic smile Strauss gave him in meetings, every hand Jessica placed on his shoulder, every file his team tried to hide from him and pass to Rossi to sign off on instead.

It was three months after that the thread finally snapped clean in half. He had thought he was getting better. Jack certainly was. His twice-weekly trips to the therapist were proving to be beneficial as he was sleeping through the night more often and finding it easier to talk about his mom, even if he didn’t fully understand what was going on. Jessica had gone back to work and was slowly moving through her own grief as she tried to honour the memory of her sister by sharing her memories with her son and ex-husband.

Aaron thought he was doing the same, but maybe repressing and coping had become the same in his mind.

It was late, but Jack had gone to see his grandparents with Jessica and he didn’t fancy going home- not when the rest of his team were still there- so he got a coffee, ignored their concerned faces and started working on a consult he hadn’t got round to the previous day.

He dropped his mug the moment he opened the case file and saw who the victims were.

All blonde women. All divorcees. All of them had been the ones that filed, and all of them had filed because they felt neglected. All of them had been awarded custody of the child, without a court hearing. The police were stuck because they couldn’t find anyone in the local area who had been married to a blonde woman and had one young child.

The sight of their bodies, mutilated and bloody, made him sick. The images blurred as he tried to blink away tears. Next to the photos of their dead bodies were the pictures of their faces, genuine smiles and sparkling eyes, blissfully unaware of the evil that was about to happen.

He didn’t hear the mug shatter into nothing as hot coffee went all over the wooden flooring. All he heard was a gunshot, then another and then a third, and Foyet taunting him, saying he would find Jack and show him the bodies of his dead parents. Maybe he screamed, maybe he couldn’t make a sound, but he couldn’t see anything properly as tears streamed down his face and made everything unfocused and fuzzy.

“-you hear me?” someone asked.

He blinked. Why was he on the floor? What had happened? He looked down, saw his knees pulled to his chest, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“What?” he managed to say, voice hoarse.

“What’s wrong?” Rossi asked, kneeling beside him.

He looked up, saw Spencer and JJ in the room, Emily and Morgan in the doorway, and Garcia behind them.

“Nothing,” he lied. He was supposed their leader, the mom of the team- he had grown to accept that title. He couldn’t fall apart in front of them. “You’re going to hurt your knees if you sit like that for much longer.”

Rossi cursed in Italian. “Kiddo, I don’t care. I want to know what’s going on with you. You’ve been pretending to be strong for these past few months, and we know how much you hate anyone interfering with your personal life, but if you’re hurting, you need to let me help.”

“It’s nothing,” he repeated.

JJ picked up the file, opened it without a word. “Oh, Hotch. Why didn’t you let one of the others deal with it?”

There was such sadness in her eyes, he couldn’t look at them. “Because I can handle it.”

The sound of Reid’s cane coming closer gave him something else to focus on. “Hey Hotch,” he greeted gently. “Do you want to know something? After Hankel, I found it almost impossible to deal with consults involving someone who was using drugs, either on themselves or the victims. I had to try and pass the files off to Morgan and Prentiss. I can do them now, but it still hurts. So it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” he said. “It’s not because it’s my fault she’s dead. If I hadn’t rejected the deal, all those people on the bus would still be alive, Haley would be here and Jack would have a real parent, who could be there and comfort him, instead of a failure of a father who can’t guarantee to keep him safe and who wakes up shouting in the middle of the night.” He didn’t know why he suddenly opened up, but Reid just had that effect on people sometimes.

Reid blanched. Rossi pulled away, shock all over his face. Garcia pushed her way into the room, heels louder than Reid’s cane and threw her arms around Hotch in a tight hug. He felt the sleeve of his shirt start to get wet, and it was only then that he realised Garcia was crying.

“It is not your fault that Haley died. It is Foyet’s. He killed her, and you had no control over his actions. You did the right thing by not taking the deal, and don’t you ever think otherwise. You are a real parent. You’re a parent to almost everyone on this team, and you’re a wonderful father to Jack. Stop beating yourself up. You’ll never be able to protect him from everything, but that doesn’t mean you’re not good. You are the best man I know, and I know some pretty great people. So dry those eyes, and let us help you,” she said, determined.

He stared at her for a few moments.

“Sir,” she added hesitantly.

“Do you honestly believe that?” he asked, more tears threatening to spill.

Garcia nodded.

Morgan crept closer. “I know what it’s like to grow up with a dad. And Jack will never have to go through that, because even if you’re not there in person, you’re there emotionally. He won’t remember missed soccer games or forgotten parent-teacher conferences. He’ll remember how you read to him, how you always listened.”

“My father turned up to everything I ever did. But it never felt like he cared. It felt like he was just trying to keep my mother happy. When you go to Jack’s things, he knows you’re there because you love him, and that is all any child wants,” Emily added.

“You’re more of a father than my own dad ever was,” Reid declared.

“Hotch, you were the one that taught me that this job doesn’t have to take everything away from us. That we can still form meaningful relationships with others. You never doubt my choices, you just make sure I’m able to back them up, and you’re the reason I don’t go home fretting about whether or not I made the right call,” JJ said, tucking the file away.

“Aaron, I never got to meet my son. But every time I see you smile, every time I see you handcuff another unsub, or speak to a victim, I am reminded that family is not just blood. You’ve been strong for far too long. Let yourself fall and trust us to catch you,” Rossi finally spoke.

“I just couldn’t believe she was gone. And then I saw the photos, and I realised it must have been like that for someone else when she died and it finally hit me and I just couldn’t, but I thought I was moving on and-“ he couldn’t speak, the words not able to push past the lump in his throat as the emotions finally overwhelmed him and the soft cries became mournful sobs that eventually calmed into sniffles.

Rossi and Garcia never stopped hugging him. Reid kept his hand on his shoulder. JJ smoothed his hair, singing the same lullabies that Henry heard every night before he slept. Morgan and Prentiss stood to the side, having locked the door and closed the blinds.

Once he had enough awareness to realise what he had done, he tensed and waited for the hit. It never came. What came instead was a series of encouraging smiles, the option to talk, or just sit in silence. The promise to never leave. To always be there when he needed them.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re our family Hotch. We’re not going to let you suffer,” Morgan said.

Everyone nodded.

It wasn’t easy, falling apart. Especially not in front of your colleagues. But Morgan was right, they were a family. So Hotch finally let himself fall, finally let himself feel all the grief he had been burying for so long, and for once in his life, he let someone else catch him. He let them in. He accepted their support, however long it took for him to actually do so was irrelevant. He let himself cry, and he let his family dry his tears.

They wouldn’t leave him. Not now. Not ever.

But soon, he would be saying goodbye to JJ, wondering how they were going to survive without her. He would be faking Emily’s death, then fleeing because he was a coward who couldn’t bear to see their grief-stricken faces. He would be forced to confront his own actions, reveal the deadly secret that had been slowly killing him. He would damage the trust that had taken so long to build, damage the friendship he had with Morgan, potentially ruin the friendship between Reid and JJ.

He would be crying himself to sleep. Having nightmares that stopped him from doing that for more than a few moments.

And then Garcia would find him rocking himself in his office, whispering I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, to himself. She would drop her request for advanced technology, and once again wrap her arms around him. She would tell him that he did the right thing, that in time, everyone would forgive him, would trust him again. He would look at her, and her heart would break, because her boss should never look that pale and broken, and ask if she was sure.

She wouldn’t be able to answer for a moment. And then she would say she forgives him. And that it was okay.

The next day, Morgan would ask him to check a file. Reid would tell him about the stars. Garcia would bring him a slice of pie. Rossi wouldn’t make any comments that undermined his authority or showed a lack of trust. Prentiss would call him Hotch again, instead of sir. He would invite them for dinner, and they would all accept.

He would confess that keeping the secret had broken him, and they would all forgive him. He would finally let himself cry, let them put him back together. And they would decide to have a very dodgy sleepover- Garcia’s suggestion- because Jack wanted to see Henry, and who could ever say no to his requests.

And that night, Spencer Reid would phone his sponsor, not because he was scared of using, but because he didn’t want to.

Jennifer Jareau would snuggle up to William LaMontagne Jr instead of pulling away from him like she had the past few months.

Derek Morgan would not blame himself for everything that had gone wrong that day.

David Rossi would not curse the God he believed in, he would thank Him for bringing Emily back safely, and for granting Aaron peace.

Emily Prentiss would sleep without a knot in her stomach, for she would finally be sure her family would be okay.

And Aaron Hotchner would watch his family with a smile, before he finally fell asleep as well, not a single tear needed to exhaust himself. He would be a little more whole, once again sure the people around him did truly love him. And he would remember his wife, just before he fell asleep, and it wouldn’t hurt, because he was happy.

[kaetastic]

Bound To Be Spilled

pairing: Post-Azkaban!Sirius Black x Harry’s-Former-Crush!Reader

summary: Wrapped in the golden circle had meant Y/N was bound to run into trouble, if only she’d know the trouble was Harry Potter’s Godfather. Only, she had been oblivious to Harry’s glances, and his attempts to court her previous years ago.

word count: 4.3k

warning: fluff, angst?, happy harry, confused harry, unprotected sex, smut, interruptions because why not

note: the reader is of age, of course! she’s in her last year, 18-19 y/o :)) this is also set in order of the phoenix balalalalalalalal sirius black doesn’t die blaalalal he never dies blalalalalalal also i didn’t know what to do with the ?!Reader lmao yes

The elegant green wallpaper of the house had been the standing piece of the pureblood’s proud house. Well, not so much elegant as time paced without a sole concern for the maintenance of the quality. Even though Sirius remembered it being green during his childhood, he believed that the colours had begun to fade away in shades he thought wasn’t even possible. The walls began to look like Swiss cheese, chunks scraped off- vanished to leave a unique design. The unfortunate pieces were probably nudged under moulding furniture or swiped away by the only creature who cared to exert an effort to clean the abandoned place- Kreacher. 

The house lingered after the tragic death of the last remaining member of the Black family to place the property on the minuscule hands of a house-elf as the sole living heir to the house was locked away in the walls of Azkaban. Walburga did not only think her oldest son would rot in the prison after receiving a Dementor’s kiss, but she believed it. She knew Sirius would not come out alive. 

The passing down of the property was a reminder to the next generation who would be receiving the key of their loyalty that prided itself to the generations-worth of being sorted into the right house. To the green serpent. Except, the current holder wished he could’ve found a way to strip every bit that reminded him of his neglected childhood. Although, Sirius wasn’t sure if he was neglected, or he had been the one to avoid his parents every possible moment during his youth. It was more or less of not wanting to hear their voices and wanting to annoy every fibre of their being. 

The framed portrait of his mother that he could not find a spell to yank out of the wall, the room that had been the sole reason for the outrageous family tree, and the house-elf had been only a small list of things he couldn’t get rid of. Oh, the house-elf. It was so easy for the creature to get on the wizard’s nerves that the pureblood believed his tolerance had run short. It wouldn’t be long before Sirius Black snapped towards the elf that never took a liking to him ever since a child. That was what Sirius feared. Locked in the prison walls of Azkaban for a crime he had not committed, he feared he would be chucked back in for a crime he was sure to commit by the murdering of Kreacher.

Despite his hatred for the slimy creature, and how he wished to throw a ragged sock on his face so Sirius could be free from the torture of the elf, Kreacher had been useful in some ways such as cleaning the house. That, and accompanying his mother’s babbling portrait. It had only been a few years since he had left the tainted walls of Azkaban. Years he had tried to set himself in the right mind space, years he had tried to renovate himself, not to be the boy he was but the man he wanted to be. The same years he wanted to change things up in the house he grew up in. Except, he hadn’t found the energy and will to do so. Call it procrastination, Sirius called it refilling his wizard’s magic bar. 

There had been times when he wanted to rip everything, redo the whole house. Despite the engulfing thoughts of him doing productive chores, he could never find himself pulling his body up from the couch to enter his parents’ bedroom nor his little brother’s. The emotion- he couldn’t describe. Maybe he could if he had done a little digging with care; however, Sirius didn’t want to hear the truth. He didn’t want to know what that feeling of sympathy was. So, he steered away from their rooms. It wasn’t accidental laziness. He only intended extending the time he wasted so he didn’t have to face the obstacle. 

With his successful escape from Azkaban, numerous things had changed ever since he had been thrown into the prison. No matter the number of times the shadowy figures of Dementors had walked past him while he cowered in the corner of the cell, nothing would get rid of his youthful personality. That was probably why one name kept echoing in his head. Sirius Black was known to be a charmer during his years in Hogwarts, to say the least, he believed that it had never gone. James had placed such a label on Sirius’s head. The memory of James losing a bet to say the true words had been blurred away. There was no need for a bet as the words had been a prophecy. 

Sirius Black wasn’t sure what to feel after the meeting. It had been fiery as he had expected. Words had been thrown around, over and under the table of where the Order Of The Phoenix was to go with the terrifying news. The news that Harry Potter was to be the new target of Voldemort. He was just a mere boy for Merlin’s sake. Sirius wasn’t sure where he got it from, the sudden rush of a mother bird defending his belief that the young target of the Dark Lord should be aware of what was to come. He stood by it without a quiver in his ageing knees. Harry had every right to know what the Order suspected in the upcoming time. Hell, if it was not rights- Harry must know for his own safety. Except, the Weasley’s mother heart laid elsewhere. 

“You sure you’re all right, Harry? Gave us quite a turn.” The words fell off Arthur’s lips in a swift swerve. 

“Harry Potter.”

Parting from each other quite reluctantly, the parents of the Weasley’s stood by the wall, widening space for the Godfather and his Godson. Harry stood there, eyes dazzling at the figure in joy, a feeling he had latched on for years. The only family he had left. Sirius might’ve not been related to him by blood, but he was a family nonetheless. The young wizard didn’t waste time jumping into the embrace of his Godfather. The warmth he had been craving for so long had finally come under the roof of a house that had only sent him mere creepy shivers, “Sirius.”

Although Harry’s figure that was wrapped in Sirius’s arms had made him smaller, comparably, the pureblood wizard couldn’t help but linger on the thought of how fast the boy had grown. Just years ago, Harry had aided him onto the back of Buckbeak, now, he was a man. Well, Molly Weasley liked to believe otherwise. Despite the sentimental interaction of the two, he had no control of his eyes that trailed towards the leaning figure against the railing of the endless stairs. The pureblood wizard wore a wide smile, no doubt, everyone would assume was from the embrace he had longed for. If only they had known. Y/N returned the gesture. 

It felt so warm, the glowing feeling in his chest in knowing he had the privilege and the blessing to become the Godfather of James’ son. Sirius still remembered when the news was revealed to him. Oh, he felt as if he was swimming over the misty puffs of clouds. As the two figure pulled away, Sirius reluctantly peeled his eyes away from the woman to face the overjoyed wizard, his palms sat on Harry’s shoulders, “How about you go first? I need to grab something from my room.” The boy nodded, the corners of his lips curling up at the soft pat on his back- no different to that from a father figure. Harry could sense the speckle of sorrow at the mention of the word, yet, with everything that surrounded him: family, friends- there was nothing else he wanted more. 

Sirius’s eyes trained on the group that faded to the kitchen, some bustling noise had trickled along the hallway. It was so lively. Finally. The word sung in Sirius’s head. Not everyone was willing or free to accompany the sad old escapee. He knew no one wanted to, especially with the fact that they would have to rest in the pathetic house. The times when he would cower in sorrow had been long forgotten at the uproar of life set by the Weasleys. Especially with the twins who displayed mischief, he could only think of when he was the same age as them. The bunch of their heads were enough to create an army. 

Even though his stomach had endured enough of the sad excuse of meals in Azkaban (well, what was he to expect in such a place?) was growling in anger to why his body began pacing towards the stairs, away from the scrumptious goodness that was baking up by Molly, the wizard didn’t bother to smother care as one thing was plastered across his head. He couldn’t help the corners of his lips curling up at the figure that stood there seconds ago. Steps creaking with every kick of his leg, the pureblood wizard didn’t bother to make his haste pace stealthy. It had been some time since he had seen her. The desperation of needing her body in his arms and her lips against his had blurred out any other thoughts. 

Y/N’s eyes snapped towards the shadowy figure that barged into the owner of the house’s bedroom. It wasn’t exactly her first time in the room that screamed out ‘Gryffindor’ from the simple decorations that built up the empty room. Yet, every time she entered the bedroom, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the subtle things that made up Sirius’s childhood. 

There had been some things he was embarrassed about like the pictures of Muggle women clad in bikinis that were magically plastered onto a wall. Even though he had been the one to bind them to piss off his mother who would pull her hair out when she could not peel it off, he wanted to do nothing but rip it out. Especially when he would have a woman screaming his name in his room. Sirius didn’t know what spell would take it off. 

With graceful aid from the warm glow from the spherical light source, the minimal smear of light jabbing from the dim corridor splaying to blur out a smudge around his figure danced with one another to sharpen the figures. A second lingered in the air. A second where their eyes beamed onto each other’s, relishing the other’s outline- though, that only applied for Y/N as he could make out every detail of her. Sirius shut the door. He had to remind himself to make less noise to not quiver suspicion from those who were in the kitchen. Even though he knew they were waiting for him to begin devouring dinner, there was not a smear of guilt in him. Yet, with the pushing suggestion of lowering down sound, he couldn’t help but hear the ancient hinges crying out a plea for mercy. 

Then, the wishes he had begged for during the hopeless days of his pathetic soul locked in the walls of his childhood home came true. The only difference when he was in the prison than stuffed away in the house was the pesky presence of those shadowy blankets were no longer. Oh, he also had more freedom and space to wander around in the house- but still, it didn’t feel good to be bound to a house because a whole government was scrambling to throw you back to prison. A sacrifice it must. Her soft fingers rested on his cheeks, the pads grazing over the curls on his jaw. The trimmed and groomed patch of hair looked great on him. 

The pureblood wizard bit his bottom lip once they pulled away. He took in everything she had to offer, the warm gaze of her eyes, her scent, and the gentle kiss of her fingers against his skin. Sirius had no control over the corners of his lips that curled up. He basked in her appearance, in her presence. 

“Hello, darling,” Sirius slipped out, the warm puff was squeezed out of his chest, heaving the exhalation to pierce her lips. Even though the lamp that sat in the corner of the room had only splayed out a smear of light, he could tell the glint in her eyes had glittered. “It has been some time.”

“It has.” The witch chuckled out as she wrapped her arms around his neck to lower him, the gentle brushing of her skin against the prickling bristles of his hair felt more comforting- far more than when people who lived on the edge or people who cared for animals had petted him while he was in his animagus form. There were times he liked their caring pets, some had even ruffled nasty fleas. Although, some had stood on the tip of their toes as they ran their hands over his fur. It had not been a fun situation to be in. 

Sirius leaned in once again. He couldn’t- no, he didn’t want to resist the urge of his lips on hers. During his youth in Hogwarts, he had spent his time ogling girls. Somehow, he had managed to receive decent marks. Well, he had to give credit to his old pal, Remus Lupin who had been the one to drag him by the back of his shirt to the library. Remus had once also used a silencing charm on the pureblood wizard since the boy could not comprehend the terms of being under a library’s roof. But not one girl he had long histories with made him feel like what he felt when he was with Y/N. It was new. It was foreign. He liked it. His fingers trailed down onto her waist, inching her closer to him while their tongues danced; even though she wouldn’t mind him yanking her onto his chest.

“Look at you. You look dapper in maroon… or is it burgundy?” Sirius rolled his eyes, the sweet song of her laughter was silenced by his lips. Locked away in the house had only meant his head had sprinted for ideas on end. He had tried every little idea that suggested time to pass in a blink of an eye. All from trying out new hobbies such as knitting to playing chess by himself. Sirius had used magic to enchant the board given by Arthur. However, it seemed every time he was up against the spell he had cast, he would lose. Nothing helped but spacing out in dreams he could only ponder hours on end. Dreams of a life where he could saunter across the street without having to bother about being captured. Dreams of a family. 

“I look good in everything.” 

“You look better in nothing.” 

With a quirk of a coquettish smile, she had expected the man to be pulled abruptly at her uncalled words. However, it was Sirius Black. And Sirius always managed to steer away from people’s expectations. Humming at her statement, his fingers descended to grope the swell of her ass. The wizard relished in the way her breath hitched in a gasp. He didn’t bother to make his path down go by unnoticed, he wanted her to feel every drag of his rough pads. Despite their few years of acquainting one another, it felt as if Sirius had learnt a whole load about her. Especially how she liked it. With languid movements and deep gazing into her eyes, he opposed, “I look my best on you.”

“Hm? Why aren’t you looking your best, then?”

Oh. Sirius wanted to do nothing but throw her on his bed, peel off every stubborn layer that stood between the two. He didn’t even think about the guests who were still waiting for his arrival at the table. It sounded too good.

“Sirius! Move your ass, won’t you? Your seat at the head is left empty, everyone’s waiting for the news.” The sweet, sweet voice of Remus trickled into the cracks of the door. Sirius could feel his neck craned down to stare at the sad state of his floor, frustration easing into his muscles. There was great disappointment, irritation, and overall, the need to shake his old friend. Remus didn’t know about the two. No one did- fortunately. Somehow, one way or another, what the two had done behind walls did not leak out… yet. Just yet. 

The pureblood wizard was proud of his achievement; the fact that he had managed to keep such a secret without spilling it all into Remus’s ears meant a great deal. Especially with his Godson. Just the thought of Harry finding out what his Godfather- the man his father trusted his whole life with, had been doing with his former crush would just worsen the boy’s life. What’s worse is that the boy already had the bar of his life’s difficulty high up. Sirius still remembered the time Harry told him of the observing crush he had on Y/N who was roughly three years older than his age. She had been around her fifth grade when Harry was just a mere second grade. 

Sirius recalled the time when Harry confessed he had moved on from the silly crush. The boy did everything he could in hopes she would see him. The hopeless feeling for the older woman was long gone… maybe. Well, that was what he told Sirius anyway. Subtle sticks of flowers, running into her occasionally- nothing had worked. What Sirius did know was that the witch felt something for him, the Godfather of the boy. Before he knew it, he threw himself in a hole, surrounded by revolving gears that would churn boisterously with every slight movement he made. To get out of it, he would have to rest his hand upon the gears. Something was bound to go wrong. It just hadn’t. 

Y/N was more hooked onto the ‘news’ Remus was talking about while Sirius could feel steams of fury huff out of his ears. Seconds of silence hung upon the air. Sirius could feel the negative emotions lift from his chest as he swam through the elating feeling. There were only a few centimetres between their lips before Remus’s voice cladded around their heads, “Have you seen Y/N? I swear I saw her…” 

The wizard pressed his lips, a heavy exhale echoing into the air, quite audible to the man who lingered in front of the door, “No! I haven’t seen her.” Neck craned towards the door to yell out his reply, Y/N muffled her giggles with her hand at his frustration. 

“Come on, old man, don’t want them becoming suspicious.”

Even though the news cracked by some willing members of the Order of the Phoenix had cracked over the youthful heads of wizards had been terrifying which sent shivers down their spines, stolen glances were not wasted. Y/N had to swallow down the chewed up ball of scrumptious meal Molly had made with the chilling fact that the boy she knew would have an enormous red target over his head. And because he was Harry Potter, he had insisted on standing beside the Order, scratch that- join the Order to defeat Voldemort. She wasn’t exactly sure what weapon the Dark Lord wanted according to Sirius’s words, but with connecting vague dots and assumptions, she had made a large leap.

Even if her theory to the weapon had sounded astounding, the fact that Harry had been the victim of many Voldemort’s doings had proved as evidence. Cedric’s death had been a strong proof that Voldemort had returned to his body. Yet, with words and power- eyes were sculpted to narrow onto one perspective: the lies of the Minister. 

Harry bore the mark, Harry cried out for the unfortunate death of the Hufflepuff- but he was portrayed as a little boy who lied, the boy who cried wolf. It was fear. All fear. The Minister was being thrown in the palms of fear, it warped around his mind, pinching the wizard to be blinded by the possibilities of him being thrown from his powerful position. If the man was trying to not shake the entire wizard population, merits could be given for his thoughtful idea. Except, the entire population he did not want to stand on their toes were far from moving… they had been dripping icicles. Well, some. There had been people who were qualified to steer away from the captivating words.

It took some time to gulp down the words. Now, she was gulping down wanton moans even though Sirius had insisted multiple times to let out all the noises. With her knees dug into the red cover of his bed, head planted onto the staggering rocks of the mattress and wrists held by him, there was no longer pain or aching muscles for all of it were overlapped with pleasure. A growl echoed from the pureblood’s throat, guttural, swimming in pools of pleased needs. Needs that had been building up for years. Needs that made way into his mind at the thought of the woman.

He threw his head back at the clenching of her walls against his shaft, Sirius grasped her waist to thrust deeper. Beads of sweat had woven through his hair, damping strands to splay against his forehead. The creaking of the ancient bed trickled into the air, mixed in with the slamming of the wooden post against the wall. Sirius could not bother if everyone was wide-awake, listening to the banging of the walls. Free concert, he tutted. Although, the noise within the walls was much more enjoyable- to Sirius. His eyes grazed over red that had plastered all over his room. The corners of his lips curled up as he remembered his rebel-self during his youth. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m going to cum.” The words hissed out of his mouth sent shivers against her skin, pricking with teasing pinches. Y/N panted, eyes squeezed tight as his thrusts snapped harder. Her lips were parted open, sharp moans stinging out while her fingers clambered into the blanket. It wasn’t long before they chased their own release. 

Once she managed to turn herself, back splayed out on the bed, chest still heaving from the strenuous laps, her eyes narrowed onto the man. Oh, what a sight it was. 

“Full of energy even though you’re an old man.” Sirius threw his head back, boisterous cackling from his lips rebounded from the walls into her ears. The noise finally died down. Y/N finally realized how great he looked with red. Every angle she craned her neck, she would be met with the sole colour. She couldn’t see Sirius with green. 

His arm planted beside her head, the other creeping up her thighs to rest it against his hip, “Who said I’m old?” The same lust-filled eyes gazed deep into hers. 

“Sirius, there’s been some things I’ve wanted to, holy-” 

Eyes snapped onto the door that swung without creak that would cry out whenever the wizard would turn gently. Y/N was the first to react, her hands swung to yank the shivering cover while Harry stood still under the door frame as if he had been cast with Petrificus Totalus. The boy barely realized he was staring at the couple who had just finished one of their many rounds until his eyes trailed to meet his Godfather’s. Red smeared over his cheeks, quite prominently once he had gulped down the fact that he just saw the bare body of his father’s friend hovering over his former crush. Sirius hastily got off the bed, rushing across the carpeted floor- butt still open to the air. Even though he felt this day would come, where the secret would rise to the surface- he did not expect or assume it would be like so. He didn’t even spend a cent on having his Godson running on him bare.

“Just one second.” Sirius murmured, hands yanking up the trousers he had thrown haphazardly all across the room before draping his shirt on over his shoulder without buttoning. The fabric would swing with every churn of his body, exposing the marking that smeared all over his chest, proudly made by Y/N, sprinkled in the exhausting rounds.

Harry only heard the rustling of cloth brushing harshly against skin, swirled into faint mumbling between the two, “Well, time for an explanation, right?” 

“Without a doubt, Sirius,” The boy hissed to his Godfather, his body inches away. The words slipped out of his tongue in whispers. “What are you doing? Don’t you remember that this is the exact girl I told you I liked.”

“Liked, Harry. Past tense.” The pureblood wizard patted Harry’s shoulders.

“That doesn’t make this situation any better.”

“No, it wouldn’t… I don’t do too well with easing tensions, though, there are some times when I would say otherwise.” Harry let out a huff, eyes rolling at Sirius when the man craned his neck towards the woman who sat on the ruffled bed. 

“Just- when did this all happen? When did it start?” Harry gestured towards the two.

“A year ago? Maybe?” Y/N shrugged her shoulder, not remembering when the two had fallen into the routine.

“This is a lot to take in…”

Sirius grinned, his palms slammed onto his Godson’s shoulders, “Listen here, Harry. This isn’t a competition. Because if it was, I would win. Anyway, I hope you can keep this to yourself since we hadn’t really found the comforts to… bring up the story to the rest. Also, don’t say a word to your friends.”

Harry met his eyes that glared into his soul, “I’m not sure how to feel. I guess I’m glad you’ve found somebody? This is just so weird.” 

[missgarnet]

Where We Stand

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count:5.7k

Genre: angst with fluff

Warnings: pregnancy, mentions of past miscarriage, blood and injury, Duchess Min and other characters from Stay,  I swear there’s a happy ending

Summary by @minjoonalist​: fluff, pain, almost pain, spain without the s' and fluff?

Link to ao3

Happy Birthday @sope-and-shine​ Belle, I love you! (also I’m sorry for not killing anyone off in this story, I just couldn’t) 

I also want to say thank you to @minjoonalist​ and @sope-and-shine​‘s Fae for reading through this to helping me edit and think of titles!

“How do I look darling?” you ask, slipping the thin dagger into the hidden slit in the corseted top of your dress.

The duke stepped closer to you and took in the reflection of the two of you together. You watched in the mirror as he swept your hair to the side and started to kiss you, his lips a gentle whisper against your neck. “You look… powerful. I’d have to be an imbecile to ignore that.”

“Is that it?”

You feel his lips forming a smirk against your skin, “Of course not, you’re stunning and you know it just as well as I do. How was I lucky enough to find a wife as brilliant and beautiful as you.” His hands find themselves at your waist, trailing back to play with the laces of your dress.

“Yoongi,” you laugh as you swat his hands away. “They just finished getting me all dressed up in this, I don’t want to call the maids back to retie this again.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already, you normally make them redo this until it’s as tight as you can get and both of you are exhausted.” He wraps you in his arms again and turns the two of you to face the mirror, “unless you’re…”

He can feel the sharp breath you take, realizing he’d figured it out. “Please, don’t get excited, it's too early for that. I don’t want to tell anyone else just yet.”

“Who else knows?”

“My maid, she thought it was weird when I asked her to find dresses with a higher waistline. She figured it out pretty soon, and I politely asked her not to say anything just yet.”

“Mmhmm, and what do you mean by politely asking this time.”

“I may have… accidentally… threatened to have her tongue removed if she so much as hinted to it”

“You never cease to amaze me, my love.”

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the few moments of alone time you had left. The two of you rushed to finish getting dressed for the day, this meaning countless weapons being discreetly tucked away in the many hidden pockets of your clothing. It was an important day, and you made it a rule to be prepared for anything and everything that could go wrong. Today you had one mission and no one was going to get in your way, not even the king himself.

Looking back you should have said no when she asked you to walk her down the aisle. Traditionally she should have had a family member to give her away, but tradition be damned, if your best friend and closest ally wanted you by her side then nothing was getting in your way.

By the time you got there the poor dear was already panicking as she paced the floor of her dressing room. “What if I mess up or trip and the entire court starts making fun of me”

“I’ll give them something else to talk about.” You said, instinctively reaching toward your favourite dagger. It’s jeweled angel wings sitting at the very top of your gown, giving the appearance of a simple broach when tucked into it’s spot atop your corset.

“Y/N, no weapons. How many times do we have to say this, stabbing people doesn’t solve problems. It only creates more.”

You scoffed at her reply, knowing fully well that it was the first thought you had. “First of all, I wasn’t going to stab anyone… this time. Second, there’s no rule against blackmail or accidently sharing information that would draw far more attention to others.”

“I don’t know how you did this. You didn’t even know Yoongi when the two of you got married, I’ve known Tae far longer and I’m still way too nervous for all of this.”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed, “I was a wreck on my wedding day. Hell, I practically had to be dragged down the aisle and I would have clawed my way out if I could. I wanted nothing to do with it, then again that wasn’t really up to me. Even afterwards I was still too nervous to actually talk to him, it was much easier to argue and plot all the ways I could get rid of him.”

“You were planning to divorce him?”

“Oh Queenie, divorce was mild compared to what I had in mind.” You smiled at the memories of when you first moved in with your husband. The two of you had barely spent a minute alone, and were at each other's throats any time you were in the same room. He expected someone docile, sweet, and a little fearful of him the way that almost everyone else was. What he hadn’t expected was to be matched with a wife even more stubborn and intimidating than he was, you had become the first true rivalry he had ever experienced and it was thrilling.

It didn’t help him to find out that he had met the only person with a reputation worse than his own among the court, nor that you had found ways to win over his entire staff in a matter of days. Despite being incredibly talented and an excellent asset to have on his side, Yoongi seemed determined to prove that he was still the one in charge for those first few months. Everyday was a competition and the two of you had engaged in a seemingly endless battle of bickering and petty vengeance against one another. Your favourite of these occurred after he made it a point of removing you from a meeting with the generals. He should have known better than to mess with someone who was feared by the court and adored by both his family and his staff.

That next morning as the sun began to rise Yoongi was nearly blinded by the amount of light pouring into his chambers, waking up to the smell of burnt fabric and charred toast. You could hardly contain your laughter when one of the staff recalled being called into the sight of him slipping on his robe only to find that the right sleeve had been completely torn off. Tears ran down your face as you heard about him storming around the room looking for something to wear to meet you at the breakfast table only to find most of his clothes had been sent off to the tailor to be altered or repaired in some way and he had been left with an assortment of mismatched clothing and heavy winter suits. That morning neither of you felt willing to give each other the satisfaction of reacting to the other’s actions. Showing weakness was to show defeat, and neither of you planned on losing. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of just pride as you watched your husband shift in his seat clearly displeased with the current state he was in, almost laughing as he hobbled in missing his left shoe.

You had almost missed the defeated sigh he gave as he took his seat across from you. If he were like any other man you knew, he’d have given you the outburst of rage that you had been preparing yourself for. Instead he had a rather gentle gaze as he met your eyes from across the table and spoke in a soft almost admiring tone, “We can’t keep doing this. I mean seriously, destroying my curtains, burning my breakfast, and ridding me of my entire wardrobe in one morning. And why? I’ve done nothing to offend you.”

The servants quickly began backing out of the room in anticipation of another argument between the two of you.  “Nothing? You really think you’ve nothing wrong?” The icy glare you were so determined to keep directed at him was the only thing holding tears of frustration at bay. But you refused to let him or anyone else see you crying. “Yoongi, you undermine me at every opportunity available, making sure that I have no say in what is going on around me. I have no family here, no friends, no allies on my side. Everything here is about you, while I am constantly pushed aside and belittled by even your guards and servants. I was one of the most brilliant women my age. I learned the arts of battle, bribery, and blackmail by the age of five, and perfected each of them by eleven. And the worst part is all of that is going to waste, I am wasting away and it is all your fault.”

“I’m sorry I had no clue. I just thought you’d want a break from having to fight all the time, I guess I should have noticed this was wrong when you seemed so determined to argue at every opportunity possible.

“You really are an idiot sometimes.”

He laughed at this, the two of you finally sharing a moment of understanding and bonding over as you later called it his very best moment of complete stupidity.

As you sat there recalling all of this your eyes began to water and you let out a quiet sniffle. The two of you had been through so much since then and with very limited exceptions you wouldn’t change a thing. You may not have had the best of beginnings with each other, but he’d done his best to make up for that every day that you’ve shared since then. The two of you still bickered, but it was more affectionate and caring now that you’d decided to save your fury to defend one another.

“Y/N are you crying?” your best friend placed her hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

“No, of course not.” You tried to dry your eyes, but the gesture was not as subtle as you had hoped. “Fine maybe a little. I think I’m just feeling sentimental, all this wedding stuff had me thinking about when Yoongi and I were newly married and the time we had our first good fight”

“You still haven’t told me what happened to the shoes, and everytime I tried to ask the staff they just got really quiet and seemed like they were too afraid to speak.”

“Well, I took all of his left shoes and I had one of my maids put a box outside his room. Then I took most of them and put them away in the box, and I sent the rest away to be burned.”

“You burned his shoes”

“Only the left ones, and only the pairs I didn’t like. Besides if I were to do that now there would have been a lot more of them being burned, I swear just the smell of that shoe polish is enough to make me sick nowadays. Then again there’s been a lot of things that do.”

“Are you, you know?” The young queen-to-be asked, doing her best to emphasize the implied meaning.

“Am I what,” you asked, a challenging tone in your voice. It was obvious she knew, but if she wanted to ask she would have to use her words.

She gives you a knowing smile and pulls you in for a hug, “Congratulations Y/N!”

“Oh, shut up” you laughed trying to hide how nervous you were feeling. Yes she was your best friend, but this pregnancy was news you didn’t want out to the public just yet. “Today is your day, I don’t want to take away from that.”

She rushes to the clock at this realizing the two of you were running horribly behind schedule. As you rush through the halls together, you do your best to pin her veil in place and keep the train of her dress from collecting dust and dirt from the floor. Both of you pause outside the closed doors grandly looming before you, your faces warm and nearly out of breath.

You begin the task of fixing her appearance one last time before everything starts changing again. She was always so small and quiet when you first met. You never thought such a timid young woman would come this far, but something about her just spoke of being so much more than just another commoner. And now here she was in the most delicate white gown with layers of chiffon carefully draped over each other and tiny sleeves resting just off of her shoulders, looking more composed and regal than anyone you’ve ever seen before. The light reflects against some of the crystals sewn into her veil almost creating a halo around her. The light airy dress looked stunning on her and seemed even brighter as the two of you stood side by side. All the intricate layering and the bright white of her dress contrasted beautifully against yours. It wasn’t your original plan but the midnight blue gown and it’s simple pattern seemed to exaggerate your figure in the best of ways. It’s plain bodice and jeweled collar drew attention up and away from the changes you were hoping to hide.

The doors are drawn open and the two of you take a sharp breath as you begin the long anticipated journey down the aisle. To anyone else she would seem calm and composed, but you knew better, “You know, I’ve still got the carriage waiting outside. Say the word and we’ll start running. I’ll even lead the horses myself if that’s what it takes.”

You can see the slight bounce of her shoulders as she begins silently laughing. Looking around you begin to hold on to faces in the crowd, doing your best to remember where everyone was seated to use for later. It was a shock to see Namjoon and his new bride so close to the front, you thought they’d be in the back where she’d be hidden away from the prying eyes of so many nobles. After all, their relationship had been quite a scandal and she was much too far along to hide anything. What didn’t surprise you was the look on Taehyung’s face when he saw you and his fiance nearing the altar. The two of them were stupidly in love with each other and you could see that from a mile away.

You found yourself rather exhausted after all the excitement from the queen’s wedding, deciding to take just a short break at home before involving yourself with any of the court’s drama for a while. It was meant to be just a week, maybe two at the most but as time went by it felt much better to be in the manor with Yoongi than anywhere else. The two of you were still bickering like any other day, but being at home gave you a space away from the rest of the court once you’d started showing. The two of you became cautiously excited about your future child, still too worried to be fully invested but getting closer as each week went by.

There had been a few rough times along the way, but everything had been going well for the most part. That little piece of hope growing each day was worth any of the worries and discomforts you were facing, even the morning sickness that lasted much longer than you would have preferred. You thought things were getting better until another worrisome incident took place.

“Yoongi,  I started bleeding this morning, and something feels very wrong.”

“Are you alright?” He shook his head realizing his mistake, “I’m sorry that’s a ridiculous question. What are you feeling, is there anything I can do?”

“I’m scared Yoongs, I don’t know what’s going on and I can’t tell if it’s normal or if it’s going poorly again. It can’t end like last time, I can’t lose another. I don’t know if there’s anything that can be done, I just don’t want to be alone.”

He crawled up into the oversized bed beside you, gently taking you in his arms as he brushed your hair aside. “I know there’s nothing you or I can do and it’s completely out of our control, but I want you to remember I’m here and I will always love you no matter what.”

The midwife had a sad smile when she entered the room. Mrs. Lee was one of the oldest staff members serving the Mins, having delivered you herself. It warmed her heart to see the two of you curled up together so caring and gentle for once. She had originally been hired to act as a wet nurse, but when your mother went into early labor the midwife had been by her side. You’d practically been raised by her along with a few other maids, so when you found out you were with child there was only one person you wanted to have with you.

Mrs. Lee had seen you grow from a small frail infant to a rather intelligent young woman, and knew almost all of the struggles you had faced along the way. It was always her that you went to with any problems whether it was scraped knees or scheming nobles. Your first pregnancy was rough to say the least, and she was there for all of it holding your hand when everything came to it’s heartbreaking end.

And here she is now, doing her best to keep you calm as she conducts her exam. You begin to shift as you feel another one of the pains you’d felt earlier. It wasn’t horrible, only strange and unpleasant. Yoongi presses his lips to your forehead while you begin to play with his hands to distract yourself. The two lay holding tight to one another as you wait for the midwife’s news. As she felt your stomach, Mrs. Lee paused for a moment furrowing her brow before suddenly bursting out in a smile unlike any other.

“Your Grace, I have good news and even better news. First off your child is in perfect health at the time being.”

You let out a heavy sigh of relief, both of you feeling as though a large weight had been lifted.

“Second is those little pains you were complaining about. It’s not something going wrong that feeling is from the baby kicking. A lot of mothers complain about it being an odd feeling, but it’s good and it means that the baby’s doing well.”

“They didn’t kick last time,” you whispered.

“I know Angel,” she explained. “But you’re much further along this time, and you seem much healthier. Having some spotting this late is a bit concerning, but so long as you start getting enough rest and I keep checking up on you, I don’t think we have anything we need to be too worried about. I’m going to head out now and give the two of you some space, but you can call for me at any time even if it’s something small.”

Mrs. Lee excused herself and quietly left the two of you on your own once more. Yoongi loosened his embrace and turned to face you, there were tears in his eyes and the biggest gummy smile he’s had. You take your hand and place his against your stomach where your unborn child kept kicking. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while before he finally felt something, “They kicked! They actually-” He laughed and gave a joyful little sigh at this, “I love you so much Angel, you’re going to be an amazing mother.”

“I love you too Yoongs, I couldn’t do any of this without you. We’re going to be a great team, but I think our child is going to need a name pretty soon.”

Yoongi gave you an evil grin, “We should name her Yoonji”

“Absolutely not, I think I’m going to be sick,” you announced pressing your hand to your stomach. “We are not naming her after your sister, she’s too much of a b-”

“You can’t keep calling her a bitch, especially when we’re in front of others,” he tried to sound exasperated but the laughter that followed quickly put an end to that act.

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous argument the two of you kept falling into, surely there were more important things than your opinions and not so backhanded comments about his sister. “Please be serious. If you could choose any name for our child, what would it be?”

“What about Aria for a girl’s name?”

You smile and take his hand in yours once more, “I think it’s beautiful, but we’re not going to need it. We are having a son.”

“My Love, I have no doubt that you know just about everything but we’re not going to find out until they’re here. There’s no way of being sure.”

“No, I’m absolutely sure. This child will be our first beautiful little boy, and I know I’m right. It’s a mother’s instinct and I’m never wrong.”

“Then what are you suggesting, since you’re never wrong.”

“What about Hyun-Su?”

“It’s perfect.”

You pull him closer and reach up to cup his face between your hands, “We’re going to be good at this, right? They’re going to turn out better than we did.”

“I hope so,” he turns his head slightly as he presses his lips to each of your palms. “Regardless they’re going to grow up knowing that they have two parents who will love and fight for them no matter what.”

The two of you stayed under the covers, wrapped in this moment of relief and utter bliss at knowing that your child would grow to be safe, healthy, and above all else loved. What you didn’t know was that this joy would be short lived as much grimmer news was always just around the corner. You had found out quite some time before Yoongi, receiving the letter from one of the associates you had within the court. Oftentimes it paid to have eyes and ears throughout the kingdom, but for possibly the first time you regretted having this knowledge. The letter shook in your hands as you considered your choices, you could send help but you knew there would be some kind of trap lying in wait. There was no way you would risk losing Yoongi to such an obvious scheme, even if it meant sacrificing someone else. Throwing the parchment into the fireplace you watched as all of it crumbled to ash.

The letters kept coming, this time from the Southern Kims themselves each one growing more desperate in their pleas for assistance. It would be one thing to send soldiers, but you knew Yoongi would try to go with and fight the second he heard that Seokjin was in danger. The Kims were kind and had been there for you and your husband every time you needed help, they deserved better and it broke your heart to turn them away knowing that they and their children were likely to die.

At first you just hid them in the pockets of your dress, but after one had nearly slipped out in front of Yoongi you had taken more precautions in hiding the precious information contained in the writing. It began with storing them under the dresser, and then in your pillowcase, burning them the second you had a chance. You had been pulling up the floorboards in search of a new hiding place when Yoongi finally found out. Pushing the envelope under your skirts you had tried to keep him from noticing anything amiss. Unfortunately your husband was more observant than you would like to give him credit for and he had known you long enough to know how you’d try to hide something.

“Yoongi, you can’t go. These aren’t just another group of ruthless barbarians stupid enough to slaughter their own men, they’ll know that you’re coming and they will plan for that.”

“I’ll meet with the generals before I go, we’ll come up with a plan. It will be alright, I promise.” He took your hand in his willing you both to believe the words he said.

You pulled away from him as you stood, “Very well, we can meet with the generals and send troops to help the Kims. However, you are staying here.”

“No, Jin might get on my nerves at times but he’s one of my closest friends. I’m not going to do nothing while he and his family are at risk.”

“What about our family? I know I didn’t want to get too excited about anything, but we don’t have very long until we’re parents ourselves.”

“I’ll be back before the baby comes, without so much as a scratch. I promise.”

“Please don’t. Don’t make promises that we both know aren’t guaranteed.” You took a shakey breath, “Yoongi, I rarely ask anything of you, but this time I am begging you please don’t go. I can’t lose you- we can’t lose you.”

He said something, but you could hardly process the words as his footsteps echoed across the floor, he left you with the hollow sound of your bedroom doors swinging shut behind him and a simple apology mumbled from behind the sealed doors.

You refused to sit and do nothing as your husband led himself to slaughter, if there was anyway to prevent his death you would find it. Collecting all the debts and favours owed to you by the less than upstanding members of the court was just the beginning. It took more bribing and blackmail than you had bargained for, but you got other nobles to send the reinforcements you needed. Lady Park had been all too cooperative after you happened to mention a certain nude portrait and it’s current whereabouts, she and her husband sent twice the guards you had asked for and even provided maps of the area. As for the others, some were less generous but were still eager to compensate you for information or silence in one way or another. The Northern Kims were unable to send any troops of their own. However, Namjoon’s young wife had provided a sizable amount of gold and information on a mercenary group that was up to the job. You had nothing to use against them and didn’t know of anything they were in need of, but for some reason she had given you help regardless. It was a small kindness, but a greatly appreciated one in your time of need.

Everything was in place and you’d given the go ahead for them to approach the men surrounding the Southern Palace, but you’d yet to hear back from any of your troops. All of this had been meant as a backup plan in case something went wrong, but as days turned into weeks Yoongi’s chances of success were growing smaller. You’d taken to pacing the halls at night as your due date drew nearer, he should have been back by now.

“Y/N, you have to rest. You're putting too much stress on your body and that’s not good for you or the baby,” Mrs. Lee warned as she pushed your hair away from your face.

“ Well... seeing as how he’s the one causing all of this, you can take that up with Yoongi once he’s back. Until then I’ll be up doing everything I can to make sure that he comes home in one piece.”

Mrs. Lee didn’t seem too fond of your reply and folded her arms across her chest, “I’ll be sure to mention that, but until then I want you to be resting as much as possible and taking care of yourself. So little miss, you will be in bed, eating three full meals a day, and you will not be fussing over all of this anymore. What’s done is done and all we can do is wait.”

One of the maids came knocking at your door, disturbing your mandated rest. Somehow you’d become even more confined to your room after the slight back pains you’d felt that morning. You’d been told to get your rest and avoid getting too worked up. Mrs. Lee would be furious if she found out, but she wasn’t the one in charge here and you had told them to wake you at any hour if they had news from your husband. The young girl had placed a small parcel before you and saw her way out as quietly as possible. You tore the small bow apart, unwrapping it as quickly as possible, tearing the paper piece by piece until you felt shredded wet fabric against your hands.

From the mess you were able to identify one of Yoongi’s jackets, torn to bits and coated in sweat from the battlefield. You’d grown used to seeing things like this, but what stopped you in your tracks were the warm heavily saturated stains of blood that had seeped into the cut fabric. He’d sent you these before, but never in this condition. The two of you had a running joke that he could damage any clothing or armor he wore in a fight, so long as he came home unharmed. But this didn’t seem like it came from someone else, if he had been wearing this then it had to be his blood. Picking up the paper, you looked again for a ransom note, a threatening letter, anything that would tell you that he was still alive, but there was nothing else. He was gone and there was nothing you could do about it.

You felt a sob forming as a different kind of pain tore through you. It was a kind of pressure that brought you to your knees, crying out as Mrs. Lee rushed to your side. She helped you to the edge of the bed, helping you to lay back as she wiped the tears from your eyes.

“It’s going to be alright Y/N, we’re gonna get through this.”

“I can’t- I can’t do this alone. I’m not ready.”

Mrs. Lee takes your hand and squeezes it in hers, “You’re not alone, I’m right here with you

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, he’s gone.”

“Now that’s enough of that, you need to save your energy. I was trying to keep you from going into labor this soon, but it looks like it’s about time to push.” You shook your head at Mrs. Lee’s words as you tried to delay the inevitable. As much as you attempted to stall your labor, your efforts had been in vain as you entered the hours of pushing. Your vision blurred from falling tears as you cried out for the one person who vowed to be by your side for moments like these, all the while knowing that he was never going to walk through that door again

“Angel, I’m here.” Yoongi’s voice called out as the doors were thrown open.

“You’re hurt,” you commented as you took his face between your hands. He had a large gash running down his face, the cut at first glance seeming to go through his eye as well. As you started to remove the blood it became clear that it had been a very narrow miss, but was deeper than you had hoped.

“It’s only a scratch.”

“Oh really, If that’s only a scratch then all this is but a stomach ache and I should be up and about in a few minutes at most.”

“That’s hardly a fair-” Unfortunately for Yoongi, whatever argument he had planned was soon cut off by your yelling at yet another contraction. He climbed into the bed behind you, holding your hand as you cursed him for putting you in your current position.

Whomever said that the pain of childbirth disappeared from one’s memory the second they held their child was horribly wrong, and you wanted nothing more than to personally stab that person in the stomach so that they could feel a fragment of everything you went through. And yet, when you looked at your newborn son it felt as though all that pain were worth it. Yoongi had somehow forgotten about all the horrible things you had called him during labor, or at least decided not to bring it up for a very long time. Your child had made an early and all too exciting entrance into the world, and all of you seemed to be recovering from this in one way or another.

Yoongi had been healing very well, but it became apparent that his wound would leave a scar. Not that you minded, he’d teased you about yours since the very first night the two of you had known each other intimately. Even now as you lie in bed he still traces the two lines on each side of your spine, pressing a kiss to each of the spots he claimed must have held the wings of an angel before you had fallen.

“I think we’ve earned ourselves at least a full day of napping.” Yoongi commented, already pulling the covers over the two of you.

“Just one?” You asked, “If you ask me I think we should try and break our old record and try for at least two and a half days of sleep.”

“When did we,” he paused as the memory dawned on him, “Are you talking about the New Year’s when we were snowed in with the Park family. I remember being in bed for most of that weekend, but I don’t recall much sleep going on at the time.”

“I was talking about after all of that, we ended up being so tired that we spent our last couple days asleep. We could have gotten a few more hours of rest if their staff hadn’t woken us up.”

“Well, there’s no one to bother us now. And our son is sound asleep, so I think we should be too.”

The two of you glanced at the tiny figure in the crib across from you, he looked so small and fragile but you had been relieved to know that he would continue to grow into a strong and healthy young boy. He was only a few days old and you were already starting to notice that he had formed his dad’s same habit of oversleeping, “Hey Yoongs, I’m happy he takes after you.”

[sunlightdances]

One Good Reason: (4*/5) - Dean x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Chapter Warnings: This chapter is PG-13, slightly M for mature situations. The reader gets sucked into a ghost hunt, and Dean finds himself unable to lie about who he really is anymore. An honest conversation leads to more. Series Summary: Dean never brings women back to the bunker. It figures the one time he breaks his own rule, the state issues a lockdown. Navigating the next month is an exercise in trust, patience, and falling in love. Author’s Note: Sorry for getting this chapter up a day late! Thank you for your patience. I don’t own Dean or Supernatural, but the plot and writing is mine, so please don’t repost it without my permission. Also: my new page divider is by the amazing @writeyourmindaway​!

Series Masterlist / Complete Masterlist

It’s three in the morning when your eyes snap open. You’re startled, but can’t tell if something woke you up, or if you were dreaming.

It’s dark - unnaturally dark, even for the bedroom you’ve taken over, and you can’t get rid of the feeling that someone’s watching you.

You hear voices far off, and wonder if Dean and Sam are still gaming, or if something else is going on. You find it hard to believe that someone could have broken into this place, but still you’re on edge.

Finding the courage to get out of bed, you pull your sweatshirt on over your head, hood up, and head carefully to the door leading to the corridor. You find yourself hesitating, and almost jump back when you feel how cold the doorknob is. “What the hell?” You whisper to yourself, pulling open the door just to see if maybe the heating went out during the night.

As soon as the door is open, you can tell something’s not right.

It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you can see your breath.

“I knew I shouldn’t have stayed here,” you mutter to yourself, trying to find your way down the hall only by the light of the dim emergency lights on the wall.

Far from you but loud enough for you to hear it, someone screams.

You’re frozen, your heart thumping in your ears and the sound of your blood rushing all you can hear. This is it, you think, you’re going to be murdered here in this weird house by a guy you barely know and his freakishly tall brother, and--

You stop at the sound of running footsteps, and suddenly the lights flicker on overhead. You wince, and when you open your eyes again, Dean’s there, looking pale and walking towards you as fast as he can.

“Back inside,” he says, gruff, tugging on your elbow.

“Dean--” You’re suddenly frozen with fear.

He must sense it, because he stops too, meeting your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, and I’ll explain it all later, but please, you have to get back inside your room. The doorframe is iron so it should keep it out, but--”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you have no reason to trust me because I couldn’t keep it in my pants and now you’re stuck here with me, but if there’s any part of you that trusts me at all, I need you to listen.”

You frown, “I do trust you.” You say it without hesitating.

Dean pauses, his eyes suddenly more intense and dark, and you’re snapped into awareness about how close the two of you are - every single gold fleck in his eyes is visible. He swallows hard.

“Good. Just-- don’t come out until I come to get you.”

He’s only taken two steps out your bedroom door when something collides with him, and you’re moving towards him before you can even think about it.

You can’t begin to comprehend what you’re seeing - Dean struggling with -- a woman? She’s there, and then she isn’t, flickering almost like she’s being projected into existence. More footsteps from the other direction, and then Sam is pushing you to one side, swinging a tire iron with all his might. The woman fizzles, and disappears.

Dean meets your eyes immediately, surprising you. “Are you okay?” He asks, voice rough.

“Am I okay? Dean--” You’re flustered. “What the fuck?”

He groans, getting to his feet with the help of his brother. “It’s a spirit.”

“A ghost.” Sam adds.

“You’re crazy. The both of you.”

Dean’s eyes are intense like they always are, but there’s something else there, a pleading, a desperation for you to understand. “We don’t have a lot of time, it’s going to come back--” There’s a wail from another room, and Dean curses before grabbing your arm again, dragging you inside your bedroom. “Sam,” he barks, holding out his free hand, and Sam places the crowbar there. Dean hands it to you. “Anything comes through that door, you swing.”

You laugh, but it’s a little hysterical. This is just-- this can’t be happening. You wonder if you’ve got the virus and your fever is so bad that you’re hallucinating this entire thing.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter, “I should have told you from the start. But I’m not going to let you get hurt.”

You feel it again, the voice inside you screaming that you should trust him. “Okay,” you say finally. “Okay. Just-- tell me what to do.”

Something flickers in his eyes as he takes in the way you round your shoulders in determination, eyes hardening a fraction. A small smile takes over his face, and you’re struck again how it completely changes him.

“Spirits don’t like iron. The doorframe should keep anything out. Just in case--” he gestures to the crowbar. “-- that’s what this is for.”

“Can’t it just come through the walls?”

“Iron in the walls, too.” He assures you. Taking a small step closer, he reaches for your hand, squeezing. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be back soon.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, and you’re literally frozen. You can’t even begin to understand what you just saw, or what’s happening outside.

You wonder idly if you’re dissociating. How long have you been sitting here? How long has it been since Dean looked at you with those eyes and promised nothing bad would happen to you?

The doorknob rattles and you react on instinct. You’re on your feet, hoping you’re moving quietly, and somewhere there should have been a voice in your head saying a ghost wouldn’t try the doorknob, because the next thing you know, you’re swinging a crowbar right at Dean.

“Shit,” he swears when you clip him, his hand flying to his eyebrow. “It’s me!”

“Oh my god,” the crowbar clatters to the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

He groans, holding his hand up at you in a signal to get you to hang on.

“Dean, I’m so--”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” He peeks open an eye, squinting at you, “Are you okay?”

“I mean, besides having an existential crisis because you just told me you were fighting a ghost?”

He nods, motioning for you to wrap it up. “Yeah, yeah. Besides that.” He smiles softly at you. “Really. You’re not hurt?”

“No.”

“Okay then.”

.

.

.

An hour later, you’re crowded into the bathroom with Dean, trying to see the bruise on his temple as he tries to bat your hands away.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been bruised before.”

You glare, “Okay, well I’ve never hit someone over the head before, so bear with me, will you?”

At this angle, him leaning against the sink, you’re at eye level, and you can feel his eyes roving all over your face. It makes you want to squirm away from him, from the intensity you sometimes feel from him that scares you.

“You’re good at this,” he murmurs.

“Hold this,” you say, just as quiet, handing him a damp washcloth to press against his head. “I thought for awhile I might go into nursing.”

He hums an acknowledgement.

“I like to help people, but I didn’t have the-- the heart for it. It was too much. I was in tears almost every day of my residency.”

He frowns. “You got that far and didn’t go through with it?”

You shrug. “Like I said… I couldn’t bear it. It was too much. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life like that.”

His eyes are practically burning holes into you. It equally thrills you and terrifies you. There’s a part of you that still has no idea what he really thinks about you. You’re still learning each other and trying to figure each other out.

He says your name then, so softly, and there’s something else there, something bubbling underneath that has you pausing, meeting his eyes, and unable to breathe. No one has ever looked at you the way Dean Winchester looks at you.

“I think I owe you an explanation about all this.” He waves his hands vaguely.

“Maybe at least about tonight.”

“Do you--” He stops himself. It’s so fascinating to see his different facets - cocky and confident one minute, and careful and quiet the next. “Do you want to have breakfast with me?” He makes a face. “I mean, we can eat and I’ll tell you about this. If you promise not to freak out.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

The tips of his ears go red. “Maybe.”

You grin. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

You nod.

His smile is-- you want to see it every day. “Meet me in the kitchen at nine? Still have a few more hours to get some sleep.”

Turns out you barely get any more sleep. You’re excited. It’s stupid, really. You feel like a teenager again. But it’s fine, because Dean is making you breakfast, and even though obviously you feel like there’s so much about him you have to learn, you already know he’s a phenomenal cook.

A few hours later, you spend an embarrassing amount of time doing and redoing your hair, and settling on an outfit that was just the right amount of casual. You head down to the kitchen and are surprised when you look around and see there’s no signs of a struggle anywhere around the bunker… you wonder if Dean got any more sleep at all.

But he’s there, his back to you, in a plain black t-shirt and a pair of fitted gray sweatpants, humming to himself as he flips something on the stove, coffee bubbling away happily next to him in the coffeemaker.

“Hi,” you say, suddenly shy.

He turns to you, “Hey.” A smile that sets the butterflies in your stomach flying. “Hope you like french toast.”

Breakfast is a quiet, companionable affair - both of you scrolling through your phones and catching up on the latest news while you eat. Dean has two cups of coffee before you finish your first.

“Well, the entire world is going to shit,” he declares, setting his phone down. Slowly, he reaches for your hand and tugs your phone out of your hands too. “Let’s talk about ghosts.”

You laugh, and just like that, you feel at ease.

Dean starts from the beginning. He tells you about his Mom, and how he and Sam grew up. He tells you about some more memorable moments, but you suspect he’s sparing you some dark stuff, which you’re grateful for. The world is hard enough right now, and you’re not sure you can take much more bad news.

“This is the safest place in the world,” he assures you. “I have no idea how a spirit got in here. The place is warded-- but it’s happened before.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

He tilts his head, considering you. “You’re not freaked?”

“I mean, of course I am. But--” You hesitate. “I trust you when you say you won’t let anything happen to me.”

His eyes go a little darker. Not a lot, but enough for you to notice. You suppress a shiver.

“Good.” His voice is rough.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you bring me home with you?” You rush to clarify, “It’s just-- obviously you don’t bring people back here that often. And I had a room at the hotel--”

“You want me to be honest?” He asks, and his eyes are so, so dark as he looks at you. You nod. “I wanted to see you in my bed.” His voice is raw, body tilted towards you, open. “You’re gorgeous, and I wanted to see you there, where I sleep.”

Fire races through your veins. You have patchy memories of Dean talking to you like this that first night, but the memories pale in comparison to the real thing.

“That scare you?” He asks.

“Yes,” you’re honest with him, “But it’s also-- no one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

He looks at you for a long time before standing abruptly, the chair nearly toppling over in his haste to get to his feet. He holds out his hand to you.

You recognize the invitation for what it is, and against your better judgment, you scramble out of your chair and meet his stride, your fingers locking with his like they were always meant to.

He tugs you out of the room and down the hall with purpose, but right before you turn the corner to his bedroom, he stops short, crowding you against the wall. “If you don’t want this, I need you to tell me right now.”

“I want you,” you reply, for once in your life listening to your heart rather than your head.

His kiss is consuming. He doesn’t ease into it - he takes, and you practically go boneless against him, your weak knees and pounding heart causing him to smile against your lips. His left hand is buried in your hair and the other is on your hip, sliding low enough to press you against him right where you can feel he’s aching for you.

Dean groans when you whimper into his mouth, and you tear your mouth away from his, only to have him start kissing down your neck.

“Dean, bedroom.”

“In a minute.” His gravelly voice is going to give you a heart attack, you swear.

“Please?” You ask him, and he groans again, grinding his hips into yours.

“Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Inside, Dean. Take me to bed.”

One last kiss and then he’s dragging you behind him down the hall and into his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you both.

[beetlebitchywitch]

I really love when you write Dewey, that birthday fic was soooo cute, do you think you'd be down to write more Dewey fluff? Or even hurt/comfort? Just, whatever you want with him, he's perfect and I love him

This sounds awesome! Thanks to @go-commander-kim for kinda getting the whole “Just Friends” trope stuck in my head because here we are. Some angst to fluff Dewey x Fem!Reader for your reading pleasure!

If anyone asked you why you decided to live with Dewey Finn, you would simply ask why you wouldn’t want to live with your best friend. You’d known one another practically since diapers, having sworn an oath on the kindergarten playground to be friends for life, and somehow, you’d managed to make it work. You were both in your late 20’s now, and you were still going strong, so when you both were looking for roommates, it simply seemed to make sense. 

The fact that you got to get a good view of him shirtless now and again was simply the icing on the cake. 

God. Shut the fuck up, you thought to yourself, shaking your head to rid yourself of that thought as you prepared the two of you breakfast. But still, the image persisted, Dewey with his perfectly squishy belly and his chest hair and his hips-

“Y/N, the pancakes are burning!” 

Fuck, he was right, in your reverie you were blissfully unaware of the two pancakes you had on the griddle slowly turning black and sending acrid smoke dancing through the air. You swore under your breath and pulled them off, discarding them both and pouring two new ones to take their place.

“Sorry, Dew, just got a little distracted…” You turned around mid-sentence to shoot him a smile and instead quickly fell silent because Jesus Christ, your daydream was real. Dewey was lounging by the counter with a mug of coffee in had clad only in a pair of pajama pants hanging loosely around his hips that exposed that fucking delicious little happy trail-

You quickly turned back around, eyes scrunched shut as you tried to forget that the guy you’ve practically been in love with for years was standing behind you with no fucking shirt like it was just a thing to do. Love...God, you hated to admit it, but you were absolutely gone for this man, and there was no use denying it, not when everything from his hair, to his voice, to the way he snored made you swoon. But he was your best friend, he’d always been your best friend, and there was no way in hell you’d ruin nearly 20 years of friendship just because your heart fluttered when he was around. Why did you decide to live with Dewey Finn? Because you were a masochist who enjoyed teasing herself with a guy you could never have. 

“Those smell fucking awesome,” Dewey groaned, rifling throug the pantry for a bottle of syrup. “Let it be known that Saturday morning breakfast is an awesome tradition and if I ever say otherwise, assume I’ve gone crazy.” 

“Crazier than you already are? Impossible,” you joked, hip checking his playfully before flipping the pancakes- these ones, thankfully, were golden brown and gorgeous. Dewey ignored your little quip in favor of setting the table, and by the time you walked over with the full stack of pancakes, he was seated with a hungry look on his face, silverware clutched in both fists. 

“Oh yeah, that’s it, come to Daddy,” he crooned, grabbing pancakes from the top of the stack before you’d even managed to set the plate down. You held back a whimper hearing him call himself that, pushing it down with a grimace and joining him in stacking pancakes onto your plate. He groaned loudly, his mouth so full that his cheeks puffed out and syrup dripped from his lips. “Jesus Christ, these are good.” 

“They’re from a fucking box, Dew, it’s not like we’re having brunch at The Four Seasons,” you said with a playful eyeroll, trying to ignore how badly you wanted to lick up that little bit of maple syrup clinging to his lower lip, God, could this get any worse? “You’re on omelette duty next Saturday, alright? I want that mushroom and swiss one that you make.” 

“Anything for you, Shortstack,” he said with a wink. God, that stupid fucking childhood nickname. It used to annoy you, since Dewey had been taller than you your whole life and never ceased to make fun of you for having to look up at him when you spoke, but now, every time he used it, it was with a warm affection in his voice and his eyes that made it damn near impossible not to swoon. You cleared your throat and sent him a withering stare, trying to hide how your insides had melted from one simple word. 

“Bite me, Dewdrop,” you grumbled, your stomach swirling with warmth when he beamed at the sound of his own nickname, his eyes crinkled so adorably that you couldn’t help but smile around a mouthful of pancake. God, this fucking idiot. “What are we thinking tonight, another horror movie marathon? I’ve got some real shitty ones we could make fun of!” 

“As fun as that sounds, I can’t,” Dewey said, a soft pink blush crawling its way onto his cheeks. “I...I kinda have a date tonight.” 

Date. 

Date. 

Just hearing the world felt like icicles stabbing at your gut, and as it reverberated in your mind, the pain only grew. Dewey had a date?

“Wow! With who?” you asked cheerily, putting on as brave a face as you could the second you saw that happily little smile blossom across his face. 

“Her name’s Amy. I met her at last week’s gig and we just kinda hit it off, I guess. We’re going out tonight for a few drinks,” he said excitedly, blushing profusely seemingly thinking about her. You could feel tears clawing at your eyes, your throat tightening as the thought of him with his arms around some faceless girl assaulted your mind. You couldn’t help but imagine him holding her close, kissing her, whispering little sweet words into her ear while she giggled like a fucking schoolgirl; it made you sick to your stomach, the stack of pancakes in front of you suddenly seemingly utterly unappetizing as you maintained your bright smile, hoping it didn’t look forced. You wanted to be happy for him. You needed to be happy for him, because you’d be a shitty fucking friend if you weren’t, and you refused to lose the guy who’d been there for you since fucking kindergarten, no matter how badly you wished it was you putting that giddy little smile on his face. 

“Well hey, congrats buddy!” you choked out, trying to hide the strain in your voice. “Let me know if you need help getting ready, alright? I, uh, I think I’m gonna go clean up.” 

“Yeah, alright. Wait, you barely touched your breakfast, are you ok?” he asked, looking so concerned that it practically punched you in the gut because you knew you couldn’t be honest with him. 

“Yeah, I’m just less hungry than I thought. You finish your plate, I’ll just be doing the dishes.” And with a half-smile and a little nod, you retreated as quickly as you could to the kitchen, finally letting the tears fall silently as you leaned over the sink, your hands trembling as you braced yourself against the counter. You should’ve fucking known this would happen. Dewey was a great guy, an attractive guy, and you knew someone else would come knocking one day, someone who would make him blush and giggle and swoon the way you did whenever he so much as breathed. You’d tried to deny it, tried not to think about it, tried to forget that other people existed that Dewey might just be interested in, but now the day had come where you finally had to face the music. Sure, maybe this girl wouldn’t last. Maybe they’d date for a few months, break up, and you’d be left dealing with the aftermath of a sobbing Dewey surrounded by snotty tissues and self-loathing. But there’d be another girl after that, and maybe one more after that, and all the while you’d have to sit back and smile and support him as if the sight of him loving someone else wasn’t slowly eating you away from the inside out. But you were a good friend, you were a good friend, and you’d never let your feelings keep you from being there for Dewey, from cheering him on in everything he did. You’d walk him down the fucking aisle and give him away to someone else if you had to, because that’s how much you loved him. Your love wasn’t selfish; it never was, and it never would be. 

So, you dried your tears, steeled your nerves, and began doing the dishes, shutting your brain off in favor of mindlessly completing your task. You heard Dewey get up from the table and likely wander off back to his room, but you paid him no mind and finished cleaning up the remnants of your breakfast. When you were done, you retreated to your room, locking the door behind you and curling back up in your unmade bed, wishing you could fall back asleep and redo the day. You’d stayed there for hours, hair undone and still in your pajamas as you drifted in and out of sleep, fitfully tossing and turning as you tried to forget what was inevitably coming. By dinner time, you finally gave up on your pity party and got dressed in a soft pair of jeans and a t-shirt, throwing your hair up in a bun and venturing out in the living room. But when you saw Dewey...you froze.

He was perfect. Decked out in his favorite band t-shirt, a black leather jacket, and dark jeans, he looked fucking incredible. It wasn’t the fanciest get-up, but for a night out drinking, it was absolutely perfect, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. 

“Wow,” you breathed softly, suddenly feeling incredibly underdressed in your ratty t-shirt and ripped up jeans. Dewey turned at the sound of you, smiling nervously and straightening out his jacket as he faced you. 

“Yeah? Do you think it looks good?” he asked, brushing himself off and looking at you anxiously. You gulped and smiled, nodding despite feeling like there was a heavy rock in the pit of your stomach. 

“You look great, Dewdrop,” you said honestly, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and hold him, but holding yourself back for your own sake. “When are you meeting her?”

He checked his watch and balked, quickly rushing to the couch to throw on his favorite pair of worn black boots.

“I should actually get going now. Don’t wait up, alright?” And with a quick wink, he was out the door, leaving you completely alone. You stood silently for a moment, letting the reality of the situation wash over you. That was when the tears came, just silently dripping down your cheeks as you moved to curl up on the couch, swaddling yourself in a blanket and letting yourself cry. 

For the next three hours, you’d think about him, what they were doing, what they weren’t doing, wondering if he’d go home with her...what if he brought her back here? You couldn’t bear the thought of Dewey stumbling back into your apartment with a giggling girl in his arms, kissing down his neck, dragging him to his bedroom...you shook the thoughts from your head, wiping your tears away each time they came. You hated yourself for this, for throwing yourself a fucking pity party on the couch while Dewey was out with God knows who probably having the time of his life. You felt pathetic compared to him, and you knew that if he could see you now, he’d probably think so too...no, that was a lie. Dewey would never think that way about you, which somehow made it worse. Fuck him and how fucking good he was- if he wasn’t such an awesome guy, you wouldn’t be in this fucking mess! Before you could let yourself spiral any further, the front door suddenly swung open, startling you out of your own head. There was Dewey, looking slightly put off without a girl in sight. Ugh, thank God. You let out an internal sigh of relief and put a smile on your face.

“You’re back earlier than I thought,” you greeted him. 

“Sadly,” he grumbled, running his fingers frustratingly through his hair. “That date was a mess.”

God, you didn’t want to be happy about this. You did not want to be happy about this. But you were, you simply couldn’t stop yourself from feeling so utterly relieved that Dewey’s date was a total bust. 

“Yikes. Come here, tell me all about it.” You patted the seat next to you on the couch, which Dewey gratefully took. The scent of cigarettes and beer hit your nose, not altogether unpleasant when mixed with his cologne. “So. What happened?”

“God, nothing. That was the problem,” he groaned, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. “We didn’t jive well at all. She didn’t seem weird when we first met, but like...ok, I tried to get her to do karaoke with me, but she totally blew it off like it was a dumb idea. I even wanted to do Don’t Stop Believin’, but she acted totally stuck-up, like karaoke was beneath her. And so then I tried to order her a drink, just a Long Island Iced Tea, and she fucking turns her nose up at it like it’s garbage! And you’re not going to believe this- she didn’t even want wings. 10 wings, half buffalo, half soy garlic, and she doesn’t touch a single one. I mean, who goes to a bar and doesn’t order wings? I swear, I thought we were gonna hit it off great, but she just...I don’t know, she just didn’t seem to want to have fun, y’know?” 

You wanted to feel bad for him. Really, you did, she sounded like a total drag. But you couldn’t stop the wheels from turning in her mind as you went over the events of the night, the realization hitting you in the face like a wrecking ball.

Don’t Stop Believin’ was your favorite karaoke song.

A Long Island Iced Tea was your drink order.

10 wings, half buffalo, half soy garlic was your wing order. 

That didn’t mean anything, right? It couldn’t mean anything. Maybe he just liked all of those things too, except no, he always got 15 barbecue wings and a pint of IPA. Maybe Dewey was just used to you liking all those things when you went out for drinks that he just projected onto his date. Or maybe…

“Dewey, did...those are all...Jesus Christ,” you whispered incredulously, running your fingers through your hair as you shook your head. Dewey’s face pinched with confusion, his brows furrowing and wrinkling his forehead as he turned towards you. 

“What? Am I missing something?” he asked, blinking repeatedly as if to try and force himself to figure out what you were thinking. You simply let out a cynical chuckle, standing up from the couch and pacing around the living room, feeling the words you’ve been repressing for years starting to bubble up in your throat. No, hell no. You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t fucking do this, not now, not after he literally was just on a date with someone else, but...you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t imagine another night crying on the couch, wondering what Dewey was doing, wishing it was you with him, wondering if it could be you. You needed to be doing anything else, you needed to not think, you just… you needed to go.

“It’s nothing,” you choked out, avoiding any and all eye contact with him because you knew if you took one look at him, you’d be spilling your guts, and God knows you couldn’t handle that right now. You rushed to the front door, throwing on the closest pair of shoes with fumbling hands. “But after hearing all that, a bar sounds really good right now. I’m just gonna head out for a few drinks, ok?”

“Y/N, wait-” but before he could even finish his sentence, you were out the door, the words you desperately wanted to say dying off in a broken sigh as you rushed down the stairs and hit the street, taking the all too familiar route to your favorite little dive bar a few blocks away from your apartment. It smelled of cheap cigarettes, grain alcohol, and loneliness- perfect for a night like tonight. You felt the cracks in your heart only grow with each step away from your apartment, away from Dewey, but you forged on, finally reaching the bar and wandering immediately to the bartop, sitting down towards the end.

“Hey, Y/N, what can I get you?” 

You looked up to thankfully see your favorite bartender, Ellen, wiping down a glass with a friendly smile on her face. You returned it gladly, feeling somewhat comforted by the presence of a familiar face.

“Hey, love. Can I just get my usual, please?” you asked softly, trying to hide the pain in your voice. Ellen, ever the observant one, put down the glass immediately and pointed an accusatory finger at you. 

“I’m throwing in an extra few wings on the house, alright? I don’t know who hurt you, but you know I know how to hide a body.” And with a wink, she was off to mix your drink, leaving you to look out over the bar with a grimace. You saw many of the regular patrons, some giving you friendly waves, while one unfamiliar looking man was up on the stage, belting away to a song you’d never heard of. You wondered if this is where Dewey took his date. You wondered if you were sitting where she sat, except rather than getting to be out with one of the most incredible guys you’d ever known, you were alone, drowning your sorrows with alcohol and cheap bar food. Ellen returned just as the song ended with your glass, the amber liquid looking increasingly enticing the more you thought about the dumb bitch that somehow took Dewey Finn for granted. Taking it thankfully, you lifted it in a silent toast to her poor judgement and took a hearty swig, comforted by the burn of the alcohol down your throat. Now, all you needed was your favorite order of wings and part three of your pity party could truly get underway. After a few minutes of sipping at your drink, you saw Ellen returning with your food and sighed happily, but she stopped short of you, her eyes locked on something behind you. 

“I was wondering when he’d show up,” she said cheerily, finally placing your wings in front of you. “You never come here alone.”

“What are you-?” You turned around to see who she was looking at and your eyes widened to see Dewey standing only a few feet behind you, panting slightly as if he’d run to the bar. “Dewey, what are you doing here?” 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘what am I doing here’?” he asked, immediately sliding onto the barstool next to you. You tensed at the closeness, feeling the soft leather of his jacket rubbing against your arm, but chose to stare down intently at your wings as if looking at him would betray your feelings. “Something’s clearly up, and you ran away. What, was I supposed to just let you come here and shitfaced alone? Ellen, can I have my usual, please?”

“Coming right up,” she said trepidatiously, looking nervously between the two of you before quickly pouring him his favorite beer and setting it down next to him, making a hasty retreat to the other side of the bar. You sighed, grabbing your own drink and taking a long, slow sip. 

“You didn’t have to follow me. I’m fine,” you assured him, the obvious lie tasting bitter in your mouth. Dewey simply sighed, taking a swig of his own drink before setting it down loudly. 

“Look, I’m your best friend,” he began, and if he saw the way you winced when you heard it, he simply moved past it. “I’m not gonna force you to tell me anything, but you literally know all of my secrets, so why are you hiding this from me?” 

“Because this is fucking different,” you hissed, finally giving in and looking him dead in the eye with a withering stare. “This isn’t like knowing that you pissed your pants at your 3rd grade band concert and spent two hours playing the glockenspiel while standing in a puddle. This fucking means something, Dewey, more than you know, so can we please just sit here and drink in silence?” 

He paused. In the 20+ years he’d known you, he’d never seen you so serious, so...angry. You were angry, he could tell, but he didn’t know why, or what he’d done to make you so clearly adverse to letting him in on it. For now, he knew he needed to respect your wishes and simply be there for you, even if he didn’t know why, but it was already starting to eat away at him inside. With a sigh and a nod, he turned to face the bar, taking a hearty swig of his beer as you finally dug into your wings, trying to ignore the fact that Dewey was basically in this exact situation with another girl only a few hours prior. He looked over at you practically devouring your food and smiled fondly, reaching out to try and steal one. You smacked his hand without even thinking, getting a quiet laugh from Dewey that managed to make you snort under your breath. 

“Sorry, sorry, I know how protective you are of your wings,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. Your wings. You stared down at your food and drink and still couldn’t believe that Dewey didn’t see it. Maybe you were blowing it way out of proportion, but…

“They’re my favorite order,” you pointed out firmly, meeting his gaze with a meaningful look. “10 wings, half buffalo, half soy-garlic, and a Long Island Iced Tea. Only thing that’s missing now is to get up there and sing ‘Don't Stop Believin’, right?” 

“Right, yeah,” he said, his voice trailing off. It took a moment of silence, but you finally felt Dewey tense next to you, his eyes squinting as he looked at you, then your order, then back at you. You watched as the realization dawned on his, his eyes widening a little and his hand trembling slightly, looking like he nearly dropped his beer. “Yeah...that’s…” 

“Yeah,” you responded solemnly, turning away to sip at your drink, doing everything you could to avoid eye contact. “I realized it before you did, clearly.”

He was dead silent. You didn’t feel him move an inch next to you, clearly staring down at the bartop trying to put it all together in his mind. 

“So you think I…?”

“Yep.” 

“And I...God, I did,” he sighed, putting his beer down to run his fingers anxiously through his hair. “I wasn’t even thinking.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you retorted, wincing at how rude you sounded. “Sorry, sorry, I just-”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he said, turning to face you. This was it. This was when he let you down gently, this was the night you ruined your friendship. God, you couldn’t fucking believe how stupid you were. You turned on the barstool to face your fate, keeping your eyes trailed on the bartop even as your body turned toward him. “I never wanted to make this awkward.” 

“Yeah, well, you didn’t,” you grumbled, playing anxiously with your own fingers as all the feelings, the hurt, the anxiety, swirled around inside of you like a thunderstorm. “It’s my fault for making such a big deal out of it.” 

“No, I’m sorry I ever made you uncomfortable,” he said firmly. You paused, finally turning to look at him. Uncomfortable? What was he talking about? “I guess...I guess I just ordered for her like she was you because...because I couldn’t stop wishing that it was you.” 

Oh. 

Oh...my God. 

Oh my God.

“D...Dewey-”

“I’m serious, Y/N, I’m so sorry it ever even came up,” he rambled on, his eyes alone practically pleading for forgiveness. “God, I can’t believe I was so stupid. Look, this doesn’t have to change anything, ok? I’m still your best friend, right?”

“Dewey Finn…” you trailed off, shaking your head incredulously because oh my God, you could not fucking believe what you were hearing. You could feel joy bubbling up inside of you, replacing the anxious storm with fluttering butterflies because for the first time ever, you felt confident about what to do next. “If you think that this doesn’t have to change anything, you’re dumber than I thought.” 

...Oh God, wait. That came out so wrong. You watched as Dewey’s face fell, his eyes rounded and wide as if someone had just socked him in the gut. Jesus Christ, you just found out that your best friend felt the same way about you and you were already fucking it up. Before you could try and take it back, he was standing up from the stool, downing the rest of his beer and leaving a few bills on the bartop.

 “If that’s what you want,” he murmured brokenly. He turned towards the door, his shoulders sagging as he quickly made his exit. You were frozen for a moment, staring after him uselessly for a solid few seconds before frantically rifling through your purse, throwing cash onto the bartop and rushing after him, finding him only half a block away by the time you made it outside. 

“Dewey, wait!” you shouted, sprinting towards him with all your might. He turned around in surprise, pausing on the sidewalk as you rushed towards him. When you reached him, your desperation had reached a fever pitch and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing Dewey to the nearest wall and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. His eyes were comically wide, his lips smushed against yours almost violently, but he didn’t care, God, he really didn’t care. They quickly slid shut, his arms sliding around your waist and up your back to hold you close, kissing you back with a desperate ferocity. It took you a few moments to realize you were basically making out in the middle of the sidewalk, but you let yourself have it for a few more moments because the man you thought you’d never have suddenly had you in his arms, and you couldn’t help but indulge yourself in him. When you finally pulled away to gauge Dewey’s reaction, he didn’t even open his eyes for a good ten seconds, just basking in the afterglow of the kiss he’d craved for longer than he could remember. When they finally did open, they met yours and immediately crinkled under the force of his megawatt smile. 

“Y/N...you…?”

“Of course I do, dummy,” you chuckled breathlessly, running your fingers through his hair. “Why do you think I was so fucked up over you going on a date? And doing all of my shit with her?” 

“God, she meant nothing to me,” he groaned, his hands pressing firmly on your back and tugging so your bodies were firmly pressed up against one another. “She asked me out and I thought it would finally help me get over you, but all I could do was compare her to you the whole night, and then she hated all the things you love and I just couldn’t stand to be around her. God, Y/N, I just want you-”

He cut himself off with a heady groan as he kissed you again, already addicted to the way your lips felt against his. You whimpered and kissed him back, feeling the joy practically radiating from every pore in your body. He was perfect. This was perfect.

“Take me home, Dewdrop,” you murmured against his lips, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Please, let’s just go ho-” 

You yelped as he immediately slid his hand into yours and tugged, pulling you along at the fastest pace possible back to your apartment.

-------------------------

The next time you walked into that bar, it was hand in hand with your boyfriend, a proud smile on his lips because yeah, he got to be the one to have you on his arm. You both took your regular seats at the bar, Dewey’s hand placed firmly on your thigh when Ellen finally approached.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, albeit a bit warily. “You’re certainly looking...chummy.”

“Don’t we always?” you asked innocently, though the playful wink you sent her way told her all she needed to know. She looked between the two of you for a moment before grinning brilliantly, and you and Dewey couldn’t help but share a laugh under your breath. 

“First drinks are on me tonight, alright?” she offered up with a sly grin.

“Come on, El, we couldn’t ask you to do that,” Dewey retorted. You barely paid attention, already melting from the feeling of Dewey’s thumb tracing little circles on your thigh.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Besides, won’t be a loss for me. OI, GREG! You owe me 20 bucks!” And with a wink, she was off to pour your drinks and collect her money. You and Dewey both shared a shocked look, which quickly dissolved into snorting laughter as you threw your head back and laughed unabashedly, feeling so much happier than you’d felt in so long that you couldn’t help but let it out. When you met his gaze again, it was soft, his little smile and honeyed stare practically making you melt because Dewey Finn was giving you the biggest heart eyes you’d ever seen, and it was too much to bear. You sighed shakily and leaned in for a soft kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of his plush lips on yours. When he pulled away, it was with a sly grin and a wink.

“How long do you think we’re gonna be here?”

“Mm...an hour.” At that, Dewey slid his hand further up your thigh, his fingertips just barely grazing between your legs. “...O-Ok, maybe only half an hour.”

He chuckled gently and placed a loving kiss on your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he crooned, leaving his hand exactly where it was when your drinks arrived. You ignored the blush so obviously staining your cheeks and took a long swig. 

This was gonna be a long night. 

[percqbeths]

umumumum if you're taking prompts percabeth + 17 (“you promised me a cookie!”) because i love the two babies 🥺

once again this comes from my percabeth college novella discontinued epilogue ! i figured i'd post this since it's percy's birthday <3

“Percy, I said to the left!”

“Your left is different than mine, Annabeth!” Percy retorts, a huff leaving his lips. Annabeth crosses her arms over her chest, “You knew what I meant!”

“Apparently I didn’t!” He meets her eyes, “If you don’t like it, come fix it.”

“Percy!” She whines, “All I said was that the couch was off center.”

“And I liked our old couch!” Percy huffs, but readjusts the sofa anyway. “Happy?”

Annabeth shoots him a sarcastic smile, “Extremely.”

He rolls his eyes, collapsing onto their new couch, “She goes to graduate school and gets a promotion and suddenly all she does is boss you around and demands new furniture.”

A giddy, bright laugh leaves her as she sits down beside him, curling into him, “You say this as if you didn’t also get a promotion, like, 3 weeks ago.”

“From office monkey to a desk job, it’s thrilling.” He retorts, but there’s a smile there. Annabeth kisses his cheek, “Progress, regardless.”

Her head rests on his shoulder, and a comfortable silence laps over their apartment. It was a bright Sunday afternoon, and the new living room set Annabeth and Percy picked two weeks ago finally delivered and they’d spent their morning redoing their room.

It’s not like there was anything wrong with their old set, but they’d picked it when they were barely 22 and on a budget and had no clue what they wanted their home to look like. Now, they’re 25 and their tastes, notably Annabeth’s, have grown and she’s been going through a slow process of redoing their home.

“So, what are you getting rid of next?” Percy asks her, pressing a kiss to her temple, “Since, you know– You’re forcing a cleanse.”

“Probably that ugly salad bowl your aunt got us as a wedding gift.” The response is so instant, and it makes Percy laugh, “Then I’m getting rid of the painting from your uncle.”

“He tried his best!” Annabeth defends, then pauses, “Actually– You can do it. It’s ugly and matches nothing.”

Another laugh leaves Percy. It’s been two months since they got married, yet wedding gifts were still trickling in from distant relatives. They got married on a bright July day in the strawberry fields at Camp Half-Blood: The ceremony was small, with a beautiful pale blue, silver, and white theme, and Annabeth loves the fact that she can still recall every detail about the day.

“We’ll go through wedding gifts next weekend.” Percy responds, “Pretty sure the only gifts worth keeping are the ones from people that actually know us.”

“So I can burn the curtains your grandma got us?” Annabeth responds, facing Percy, and he pulls her into his lap, a small smile on his lips, “Oh, sure. We’ll use them for our next bonfire.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, a smile pulling onto her lips, “Mm, I’ll throw in your green sweatpants, too.”

Percy, who’d buried his head into the crook of her neck, pulls back to meet her eyes, “Don’t you dare.”

“They’re ugly, Percy.”

“Don’t care. Stel picked them.”

“She’s 8! She won’t remember!”

“Annabeth!” Percy pinches her hips, and she yelps, “Okay, fine!”

“That’s better.”

“You’re the worst.” She mutters, and Percy presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, “You sure about that?”

“Positive. You’re awful.” Annabeth responds, but there’s no venom to her words, and she’s smiling. Percy kisses the spot again, “And to think I was going to bake you cookies tonight.”

“I take it back,” She responds, and Percy laughs against her skin, causing her arms to tighten around him. Even after nine years together, Percy’s laugh still gave her butterflies. She never wanted that to go away.

“Percy,” She lets out, and he hums, planting a kiss to her jaw. She sighs, “Kiss me properly, idiot.”

She can feel his smile as he places one more kiss against her jaw before pulling away, “And here I thought I was going to have to keep teasing it out of you.”

She rolls her eyes, “You’re the worst.”

He kisses her before she can complain any further, his hands tugging her body flush against his. It’s been years, but every time Percy kisses her it’s like the first time– Not the one on Mount Saint Helen, but the one on his sixteenth birthday: full of pent up emotion, bright, and holding a promise for a future together. His kisses still made her toes curl and her hands always found their way into his unruly dark hair. Their kisses were second nature by now, but Annabeth still got the same rush from them.

When they pull away, Percy gives her a breathless smile that makes her heart beat quick, “So, cookies?”

“Cookies.”

[send me more prompts]