#he wants to avoid everyone's bullshit at all costs and just keeps getting pulled back in

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

din djarin, holding the darksaber: what did you call this? plot? you’re saying this is plot? get this the fuck away from me and my son immediately

[xiaoderys]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 (𝐥.𝐣𝐧)

pairing: Football Captain!Jeno x Mean Girl/Cheer Captain!Reader

warnings: smut, going into subspace, creampie, overstimulation, praise kink, cum swallowing, overuse of the word ‘baby’

word count: 2.8K

requested: yes

Everybody knows who you are— student body president, homecoming queen, cheerleading captain; you were the school’s it girl and you had everybody wrapped around your tiny little fingers with just a single look in your eye, but while you had everyone falling on their knees for you, Lee Jeno was not having any of your bullshit. Instead, he went out of his way to avoid you and since Jeno was the school’s hotshot, it came as a surprise to everyone that the infamous Mr. Golden Boy and the school’s most precious darling sweetheart hated each other’s guts.

But what people didn’t know was that behind all this facade you and Jeno both put up for the whole school, you were just a sucker for each other’s touch.

You swore to yourself that you would never even dare lay eyes on anyone from the football team, after everything you’ve experienced from Jeno, you just grew an overbearing hatred towards football players in general and much to your cheer squad’s dismay, your rule applied to them as well. Call it being too harsh but you’re the captain and what you say goes so you would always tell your girls: “Guys on the football team are off-limits. You think it’s cute for cheerleaders and football players to date? Then you’d be glad to know that you’re not the first girl they’ve fucked in the locker rooms.. and definitely not the last. If I find any one of you getting too close with one of those assholes, don’t even fucking dare show your face here ever again.” 

But you’re a hypocrite.

After one too many shots of some cheap alcohol and two horny teenagers at the homecoming games after party, you could only imagine what happened next.

Hands around your waist, body on top of his, tongues fighting for dominance; he tasted like beer and regret. You could’ve stopped it, you could’ve ran away, you could’ve told him no before he was shoving his tongue down your throat and fucking you senselessly on his roommates bed.. you could’ve done so many things to stop all of this before it even started but you didn’t. Because Lee Jeno is a drug and unfortunately for you, you just found your new addiction.

After that night, it became a habit, a ritual for the both of you. After every game or practice, you would meet up in the East building locker room and he would rail you until you were too sore to go to cheer practices the next day. Not your proudest moments but it’s just as if there wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs whenever you were with him.

Now, it’s 4pm and you’re kneeled on the floor in between Jeno’s thighs as he guided your head up and down his thick length. You swirled your tongue around the slit, licking all the way from the base to the tip which resulted in unholy words and gutteral moans to leave his mouth. All the praises and lewd sounds escaping his lips were going straight to your core and you were so painfully aroused by now. You wanted to reach one hand down to relieve yourself while getting Jeno off but you know that’s just gonna cost you a mind blowing orgasm from him so you chose not to.

“Fuck, baby, just like that- shit!” head thrown back, fingers laced in your hair, sweat coating his well-defined abs; seeing him like this really makes you forget about all your built up frustrations towards him “Please keep going” his breathy whines sounded so angelic yet sinful at the same time.

He pulls your head up by your hair forcing you to make eye contact with him, lips still wrapped around his swollen cock “God you’re so pretty like this” he smiles “It’s almost as if you were made just for it” his features softened, admiring the sight before him, his adorable baby on her knees, teary-eyed, mascara running down her flushed cheeks, and mouth full of cock, Jeno swore the view alone could make him come right then and there but he had more plans for you.

“That feels so good, baby, keep doing that, fuck!” he groans, encouraging you to take his whole length until it hit the back of your throat. Jeno met each bob of your head with a thrust which had you gagging around him and that only added to his pleasure.

The sight of your swollen red lips wrapped around his thick cock so perfectly was enough to make him go feral so it wasn’t long before Jeno was bucking his hips up into you “Shit, I’m gonna come” he tightened his grip on your hair forcing you to go down on him faster and after a few more pumps, he was climaxing and you being the good girl that you are, swallowed everything he could give you, feeling the thick, hot liquid running down your throat. You licked up and down his length to collect all the cum that you didn’t catch, not letting a single drop go to waste then you stuck your tongue out to show him that you’ve swallowed it all. “Fuck that’s so hot” he growled.

You continued to suck his tip, trying to get as much out of him as possible but he removed you from his cock, pulling you up to straddle his lap “Come here, baby” he smashed your lips together and he could taste himself on you. He thought he actually tasted kinda nice

“You want my dick inside you, pretty girl?” he mumbles against you breathlessly and you try to nod, replying with a tiny ‘yes, please’ and he hovers you above his throbbing dick, spitting on his fingers and bringing them to your pussy so he can prep you because he knows your little cunt needs all the prepping it can get to take his fat cock. “You’re this wet just from sucking dick?”

“Just. Want. You. Inside. Please!” he chuckles at your neediness, fascinated by how he could have the school’s infamous snobby it girl drooling over his cock and all he had to do was whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re on the pill, right?” you nod at him and he bunched your skirt up to your waist, aligning himself with your heat as he slowly sunk you down on his length. 

No matter how wet you were or how many times Jeno fucked you, you still couldn’t seem to get used to his size, squirming as soon as he entered you. Small whimpers were falling from his lips due to oversensitivity and you could’ve sworn they were the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

“S-so big! Feels so good!” Jeno’s a simple guy, feed his ego, tell him how big he is and how good he makes you feel and he’ll give you a good fuck.

He knew your body so well and found your sweet spot right away which had you almost screaming at the top of your lungs, thank god this area was secluded or else, anyone walking by outside would definitely know what the both of you were up to “Right there! ahghh please!” you squealed and he held your waist, thrusting up to meet your heat “Right here?” he asks, giving a particularly hard thrust, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Yes! oh my god!” you threw your head back in daze, leaving Jeno more room to mark his baby’s pretty neck. He sucked purple marks on your skin that would definitely be a pain in the ass to cover up tomorrow but that was the least of your problems right now.

“Please go faster!” you needily whine and to be honest, who was he to decline your request? He tightened his grip on your waist and guided you faster up and down his length.

“Fuck! Come here” he pulled your face closer to him and once again put your lips together. He could tell you were close by the way you were clenching around him and as usual, he was right “G-gonna come, Jen, can I please come?!” you plead against him and you could feel his lips form a smirk “Of course, you can, baby. Come for me” that’s all it took for you to moan uncontrollably and release all your juices around Jeno’s cock.

But you noticed that his movements weren’t getting any slower, in fact, they were getting faster and faster and faster.

You laced your fingers in his hair, gripping them tightly “W-what are you doing?” you whimper “I’m fucking you, baby, what does it look like I’m doing?” he growls “B-but I already came!” you squealed and he pushed your body to lay you down on the bench, hooking your legs around his waist as he hovers above you, face inches away from yours “You don’t mind doing it a few more times for me, right baby?” he stills for a second, waiting for assurance. His features softened and holy fuck, you swore you couldn’t breathe. You shook your head with wide eyes leaving him with a grin “That’s a good pup” he kissed the tip of your nose before he continued to relentlessly pound into you.

His tip repeatedly brushed against your sweet spot, leaving you gasping for air and clinging onto his body like your life depended on it “Jeno..“ you sob, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge again.

“Fuck! How are you this pretty?” He brought one of his hands to your face, removing all the strands of hair covering it. Seeing you like this, drove him insane and all he could do was chuckle at your wrecked state “Look at you, all desperate and whiny under me. I wonder how your little cheer squad would react if they find out that their snobby little captain who talks big game about hating football players is just a little whore for me?” you couldn’t even reply to tell him otherwise because you both knew he was right, he was always fucking right and you hated it.

You could feel your next orgasm approaching, you try to warn him yet nothing but incoherent words and cries of his name fell from your mouth “J-jeno plea-hmnngg!” He watched you intently, brows furrowed, mouth agape and tears falling on the sides of your face “What is it, baby? Use your words and tell me what you want” he taunts “I’m so close!” you gripped the back of his head and pulled him closer “Don’t hold back, doll. Show me how good I make you feel.” You felt your walls tighten around him once again and you were cumming for the second time.

You thought he would stop there but it still wasn’t enough for Jeno. He loved seeing your flustered face; your whines and pants were like music to his ears, it would be a shame if he stopped now.

The sweat forming on his forehead was dripping down onto you, his thrusts weren’t letting up and you couldn’t think straight. Your mind was all fuzzy and all you could think about was Jeno.

He had you writhing underneath him, cock still deep inside your sensitive pussy, pounding into you mercilessly even after having come two times already.

Your whole body was shaking, you could only take so much. You let out cries and whines yet it only seemed to inflate Jeno’s ego and drive him to go faster and harder. “J-Jeno! I can’t take it anymore!” you thrashed under him but his big, strong arms held you in place “Yes you can, baby, just one more” He knew your body better than anyone else, he knows when you’ve had enough and he knows you can take more-- he knows you want more. “Just one more, okay?”

He continued to plunge his cock deeper and deeper until you were nothing but a whiny, sobbing mess. The overwhelming pleasure filled your senses. You held onto him tighter as soon as you felt another high approaching. Your mind was all over the place and you felt like you were gonna black out. You dug your nails into his biceps and they were sure to leave marks. “Too much, too much, too much!” you chant like a mantra “Just a little more, baby” he tries to reassure you but you were feeling dizzy at this point and his words almost stopped making sense.

You could feel every vein on his cock grazing your walls so deliciously. Every praise and groans that fell from his lips were the only things you could comprehend. “You’re doing so well, baby.. almost there” Your eyes were now rolling to the back of your head, your body stopped shaking and you were in a state of pure bliss, you felt dizzy and your vision was slowly fading to black “J-jeno…” you mumble “Yes, baby, you’re doing so so good, stay with me, just a little more” All you could think about was Jeno and the overwhelming pleasure from his cock rubbing against your tight walls and right at that exact moment, it felt like nothing in the world mattered but the both of you.

You felt spurts of cum being released inside you and you so almost passed out “Fuck, baby. you feel so good” he was panting and kept thrusting sloppily into you “That felt so damn good, baby” as he was coming down from his high, he noticed that you weren’t responding so he cupped your cheeks “Good job, baby, you took me so well” you were still deep into subspace and Jeno tried to be gentle with you as much as he could “You’re okay, baby. I’m here. Just breathe, okay?” He tucked the messy strands of hair covering your face and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

He pulls out ever so slowly, trying his best not to hurt you. He watched his cum drip out of your cunt and he swore he almost came for the third time “God look at that, my cum’s dripping from your tiny pussy. One of these days, I’m gonna have to buy you a plug so you can keep everything I give you inside” he slowly collected both of your juices mixed together on his fingers and hovered it in front of your lips “Open up, baby” you still couldn’t understand anything and it took you a while to register what was happening but as soon as you did, you opened up your mouth and started sucking on his fingers “Does it taste good?” you nod frantically and kept mumbling incoherent words which made Jeno coo at you.

He took his fingers away from your mouth and you whined “m-more please! more!” Jeno chuckled at how needy you were but he didn’t want to push you way beyond your limits ”You’ve already done enough, baby. You can calm down now, okay? just breathe” a few minutes pass by of Jeno trying to bring you back into reality and you finally calmed down.

He pampered you with kisses and praises, making sure you were okay after coming down from your state of pure ecstasy. “You did so well, baby, I’m so proud of you” he smiles sweetly as he wipes your mascara stained cheeks with his thumb “Thank you, Jen” you murmur, trying not to look him in the eye. “What’s wrong?” he asks, turning your head to face him “Nothing” Jeno could tell something was bothering you but he just shrugs it off because he knows your relationship was strictly physical and you would never open up to him anyway.

“Okay, well, I need to get going now,” he gets off of you “I still need to help Jaemin prepare for the party tonight” you tried to stand up but your legs felt like jelly so you stumbled a little but thankfully, Jeno was there to catch you “Woah, careful there. Do you need help getting home?” Yes, you do, but you weren’t gonna tell him that “No, I’ll be fine” you shook your head with a small smile.

“You’re still coming later, right?” you fixed your clothes and tried to collect your thoughts and you shot him a confused look “Hmm?” he chuckled, clearly your mind was still in shambles from earlier “the party tonight” your body still felt sore but you just couldn’t say no ���Oh yeah, of course, how could I miss it?” He smiled at you, throwing his shirt back on “Good, you know where my room is, I’ll see you again at 7?”

You watched as he tried to tidy himself up and collect his belongings, thoughts running around your head, wanting to tell him so badly to stay and just talk for a while, to sort things out between the two of you because god knows you could only contain your emotions for so long, but instead, you just nod at him and smile “I’ll see you at 7” he returns your smile and walks out, leaving you there to mentally curse yourself for not having the courage to tell him how you feel but this is what you signed up for. You made your bed and now you have to lay on it.

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[scuttling]

While I'm writing Dad!Bod Hotch with babies... 🥺

...Here's a very baby excerpt from one of my other works (modified a little so it can be read as reader.) It's pretty cute if I do say so myself! Tags: 18+, NSFW, Blow job + Pregnant sex The next child abduction case they get happens a year later, and it takes them to Seattle; rain beats down on the Sullivan house while she and JJ sit with the family and try to keep them informed of what’s going on in terms of the investigation. The mother stares out the window at the rain, and she brings over the cup of tea she’d offered to make, sets it down on the table beside her, takes her trembling hands.

“I promise you, Mrs. Sullivan, our team is doing absolutely everything they can to locate your son safely. They are the best in the world at what we do; we just need to let them do their jobs.”

Mrs. Sullivan frowns, takes a sobbing breath, and then wraps her arms around her; she’s a little startled by it, but rubs her back, trying to provide comfort.

After a couple minutes, Mrs. Sullivan pulls back, and she offers her a tissue.

“Do you have any children?” she asks, wiping her eyes.

“Yes. He’s seven years old, and his name is Jack.”

They find the boy five hours later. Alive.

She and Aaron have celebration sex on every available surface.

“Hey. So, I got three or four calls from my doctor’s office a couple weeks ago, but I was preoccupied with the Sullivan case and I kept forgetting to call her back,” she says later from Aaron’s lap. He sits up, holding her hips while he shifts his weight.

“Okay. Is everything alright? Why was she calling so often?”

“Apparently, my IUD expired a month ago. I have to get it taken out.” He looks cautiously over her face, like he’s not sure what reaction she wants from him. She’s fairly certain she knows what his first instinct is. “Well, Jack and I were at the grocery store when I spoke to her—and you know I’ve been feeling a little off…” She wets her lips, reaches over the arm of the couch and pulls a little cardboard box off the console table. She can see his breath hitch.

“Have you taken it?” She nods quickly, presses her lips together.

“Just waiting now.” Carefully, he reaches for the box, takes it out of her hand, and sets it back down on the table. He pulls her close for a tight hug.

“Whatever happens, I love you so much,” he murmurs in her ear, and they just hold each other until the timer on her phone goes off. She brushes her hand through his hair, and his eyes are wet; she knows hers are too.

She climbs out of his lap, and he follows her down the hall, clinging to her back like he can’t physically let her go. When they make it to the bathroom, she picks up the test, squeezes her eyes briefly shut, and holds it up so he can read the word on the screen.

The word.

She spins in his arms, wraps hers around him, and jumps up and down, the grin splitting her face nothing compared to the gorgeous smile that lights up his.

“I’m going to see if Dr. Rose can fit me in tomorrow,” she says, leaning up to smooch him several times in a row. “Just to be sure.”

“Let me know, I’ll come.” She nods, kisses him a few more times, takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“I love you so much.” He holds her, repeats it, kisses her forehead, her eyes. Then he starts kissing her for real, reverent and steamy, and they walk gracelessly toward the bedroom, tugging articles of clothing off as they go.

She is kneeling over him on the bed, giving him a very good, messy, ‘Congrats, you’re probably going to be a daddy again!’ blow job when she pulls back suddenly, an overwhelming thought crossing her mind; she looks up at him with wide eyes.

“You know my brother has two sets of twins, right?” “A package came from your brother today,” Aaron says a couple months later as he’s leafing through the mail; he holds it out to her, and she opens it up, excited, then covers her mouth, can’t help but aww. “What is it?” he asks, not looking up from the stack of envelopes, and she puts her hand on his arm to get his attention.

“‘For the Hotchner siblings’—that’s what the card says,” she explains when he looks up, and then she holds up the largest t-shirt: it’s brown, with a cartoon bear cub, white letters spelling out Brother Bear. She holds up a smaller shirt: Sister Bear #1. Then another small shirt: Sister Bear #2. He smiles.

“Okay, that’s cute. We have to FaceTime him and thank him.”

“Definitely. He’s not going to believe how big this belly is,” she says, reaching up on her toes for a kiss; he comes at her from the side, because it’s easier to reach her lips that way. “Uh, Hotch, we need you down in the bullpen. She's crying and we can’t get her to stop,” Spencer says into the phone, looking a little freaked. Aaron must agree to come down, because he hangs up the receiver wordlessly; JJ rubs her shoulders, trying to comfort her.

“It’s okay, I completely understand. It’s normal to feel like that at this stage of the pregnancy,” she explains, and it’s all sounding very rational, but she just covers her eyes and keeps crying.

When Aaron crouches down beside her, he takes her hands carefully off of her face, wipes her tears with his sleeve, peers up at her with soft eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I want…” She gulps, sniffles, and Prentiss hands her a tissue over the desk partition. “Thank you. I want these babies out of me,” she sobs, and she knows she’s making a huge scene, but she doesn’t even care. “I want your babies out of me, Aaron!” He sighs; she knows he’s heard it all before.

“I know, honey, but you have to be patient. It will happen when it’s meant to.” She sobs, then hiccups, and that’s just great.

“But I’m—I’m drinking the stupid tea, I’m eating the dates. I got the, the acupuncture—do you know how weird it is to see those needles sticking out of your body? It’s unsettling!”

Morgan returns from Garcia’s office, takes one look at them, and abruptly pivots on his heel to head back.

“Oh sure,” she calls, and then hiccups, “everyone sees a crying pregnant woman and they just run away!”

“Noo, he just texted me!” Spencer lies, waving his phone that he never even looked at. “He said he forgot something and he’ll be right back.”

“Spencer, tell me what else can induce labor, please,” is all she says, doesn’t call him out because it’s sweet that he even tried. He counts off with his fingers as he recites the list.

“Raspberry leaf tea, dates, castor oil—” she grimaces, because that shit’s the worst “—acupressure, acupuncture, exercise.” He hesitates, looks a little uncomfortable, and she hiccups, gets pissed, takes a deep breath.

“Sweetie, honey,” she says, reaching out a hand for him, and he takes it, pats it awkwardly. Bless his heart. “You’re my partner, and I love you, but please spit it out.”

“Okay, uh. Nipple stimulation, and uh. Well. Sex.” Oh, yeah, the nipple thing they tried, but it felt like a restless cat trying to get comfortable on her chest, wasn’t sexy at all, so they didn’t try the rest. She snaps her fingers at Aaron like a douchebag asking for the waitress, wipes her face, hiccups again.

“Okay, we’re doing it, we’re doing that one. Sex me up.” Prentiss barks a laugh, and Spencer looks deeply disturbed. “Please can we go home now?”

“Uh, yes, we can,” Aaron begins, “but I’m not sure we should—” Nope, she’s not gonna listen to that bullshit. He hasn’t been pregnant for 42 fucking weeks.

“I love you, but shut up. Your dick put these things inside me, and your dick’s gonna get them out.” She moves to stand, and so does he, arms out like he’ll catch her if she starts to wobble. “I know I’m not sexy anymore with this gigantic stomach, but please please please just fuck me.” He closes his eyes, sighs like he regrets so much in life, and then gives her a hard kiss on the mouth. It makes her, like, instantly horny; she’d initiate sex right here if she thought she could get her pants off.

“You are as sexy as you’ve ever been,” he murmurs, hovering over her lips, “and I’m going to fuck you.” Sex this big sucks. Missionary is hilarious, doggy is uncomfortable, side by side seems okay but is actually kind of impractical. She feels betrayed.

Aaron helps her get on top of him—his dick is so hard it makes her feel really, really good about herself—and she’s more than okay with bouncing on him, but her belly bounces too, and it feels weird.

“Can you hold it?” she pants, and she takes the hair tie off her wrist and sweeps her hair into a ponytail because she’s sweating from all the position-shifting. “Just like, hold it.” She takes his hands and rests them on her enormous beach ball belly, sighs because it feels nice. “Good, yeah, thank you, let me try again.”

She braces herself against his thighs, rides him quickly, bucking hard—after about 15 years of wishing she had bigger breasts, she now despises hers, and therefore avoids them at costs, but she does manage to reach her clit, and she rubs it furiously as she moves atop him.

Aaron—who is so great, and sweet, who she loves so much—is all but useless, just holds her belly still and groans like he’s getting the best pussy of his lifetime, which she guesses maybe he is, because she wants these babies out and she’s well and truly desperate. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he grinds out, and his hands move to her thighs, squeezing hard, and she whines.

“No, no, do not come, don’t come.”

He comes.

An hour later, they try again, with her propped up on a pillow, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. The internet said this would work, and if it doesn’t, she’s prepared to let BoyMom282 fucking have it.

“Oh my god, yes, yes,” she moans, clutching at the sheets above her head, and Aaron’s hands feel so good on what remains of her waist as he pounds into her. “Fuck, yes, fuck me until your babies are ready, Aaron. Such a fucking man, knocking me up with two babies at once—you can help me get them out, can’t you, daddy?”

He groans long and loud, and she puts a hand on his, squeezes hard.

“Don’t. Come. I swear to god if you come inside me right now, it will be the last time you ever do it.”

He comes, but luckily for him, she comes first. “So, tell us which is which,” Garcia leads, visibly excited, and she leans back against Aaron’s body, looks at the sweet baby girl in his arms.

“This one is Camila,” she says, touching her teeny tiny little foot, “and Spencer’s holding Mia. Mia Clarita Hotchner Cortes—Clarita after my mother—and Camila Marie Hotchner Cortes.”

“Marie after my mother,” Aaron explains, and he puts an arm around her, which she snuggles happily against. “We’re just waiting for Jack—he should be here any minute.” Spencer hands Mia back to her, and she kisses her forehead.

“This is the best day of your mama’s life,” she coos, touching her soft, dark, fuzzy baby hair. Her heart swells. “I was going to become daddy’s next unsub if you little cuties didn’t vacate my uterus in a timely fashion.”

She can hear the squeak of Jack's shoes coming through the door, and she looks up at Aaron with a grin. When Jack comes around the bed and sees the girls, his eyes get big. “Whoa, are these my sisters?” Haley pops in behind him, and she smiles at them.

“Yeah, buddy, come here,” she says, gesturing for him with her free arm. “This is Mia, and this is Camila.”

“Gentle like we practiced,” Aaron reminds him when he reaches out to touch Camila’s face, and she and Haley both roll their eyes, then laugh.

“He knows, sweetie.” She watches their interaction with so much love, then brushes her fingers over Jack’s hair. “You’re going to be the best brother bear ever, aren’t you?” He looks up at her, grins; he’s missing a tooth just to the left of the front ones, and she’s obsessed with that little gap.

“Yep, I’m going to read them stories and share my toys and play with them at the park.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” Aaron says, leaning down to look into his eyes. “And so are we, buddy.” “And do you, Aaron Hotchner—”

“Da-ah-addy!” someone sobs—Mia, she mouths to Aaron across from her—and she sees JJ step out from behind her, trying to soothe her so they can proceed, but she’s not having any luck. Mia is a daddy’s girl, and the fact that she can see him, but she’s not in his arms, is like a mortal sin to her.

She gets it, she really does. She felt that way every day for two years.

When it’s obvious she’s not calming down, the officiant clears her throat and tries again, but Mia’s wailing just gets louder. Aaron smiles, shrugs.

“Sorry. It’s okay—here, Mia, daddy’s right here,” he assures, reaching out to take her from JJ, and he wipes her eyes, her red nose, and bounces her on his hip for a moment until she settles. She shoots them what she’s sure is a sickeningly sweet glance and then turns around and asks for Camila; Emily hands her off with a big smile.

Aaron grins when she puts her on her hip, and he reaches behind him for his best man, Jack, encourages him to come forward so he’s standing between them. She smiles at him, touches his face, and nods at the officiant, who takes a deep breath and proceeds.

“Do you, Aaron Hotchner, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” They opted not to write their own vows, because their vows are living, breathing things between them, three perfect little heartbeats. Anything more felt unnecessary.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Virginia, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” He does, so well she thinks she might get pregnant again, and then they each kiss their three babies, and she silently marvels over the fact that all it took was being clobbered over the head with a fire extinguisher for her life to end up this perfect. “Did you know that your chance of having a second set of fraternal twins jumps to 12% after you’ve had the first?” Spencer asks as they’re gathered in the briefing room one morning. She and Aaron are standing up front, pressed close together, nodding patiently. “And considering they run in your family, and that your brother has two sets of fraternal twins, I’d say that statistically the odds are more likely doubled.”

She looks over at Aaron, whose eyes are filled with love and awe and also some pretty sexy other things, and then pulls the ultrasound image out from the little envelope, holds it out for the team to see.

In unison, they answer, “We know.”

They get a package in the mail later that week: One Jack-sized t-shirt—Brother Bear #1—and two tiny t-shirts—Sister Bear #3 and Brother Bear #2. She and Aaron stop by the hospital to visit a friend after surgery and she can't resist walking past the maternity ward. Something about seeing all of those brand new, healthy, happy babies rejuvenates her after a tough case, and the one they'd finished up earlier in the week had been one of the toughest.

A woman comes to stand beside her as she looks at the babies, wearing sweatpants and a hospital gown—she's maybe 30, so just a few years younger—and she smiles brightly at the woman. "New mom?"

"Yeah, she's the one right there," the woman says with a grin, pointing to a sweetly sleeping little girl. "Isn't she perfect?"

"They're all perfect," she sighs, "but she is very beautiful. Congratulations." The woman's smile turns warmer, softer.

"Thank you. Do you have any children?" She's so wrapped up in the dreamy haze of little babies wiggling their toes that she almost doesn't hear the question.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, five of them: Adrian, Isabella, Mia, Camila, and Jack." The woman's eyes go extremely wide, and she laughs, because she's so very used to that. Aaron steps up on her other side, wraps an arm around her waist.

"Thought I might find you here," he says, and he smiles politely at the woman, who's looking like she may never open her legs again. "Can't resist looking at the babies."

"I just love babies," she says sweetly, and she stretches up for a kiss. "Do you ever think we should have another, just to even it out?"

"Hmm. Yes, but knowing us, they'll be twins again, so it's probably best we stick with five." He bends for another kiss, and she pulls him close; when she remembers where they are, she pulls back, to shoot the new mom a sheepish smile, but she's already gone. She sighs.

"Fair enough. But do you want to go home and practice anyway?"

[thatrosewoodwriter]

heeeyyyyyy

julius dating hcs gimme pls

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐁 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

☾ character/s: julius stub

☾ warnings: swearing, mild angst, much fluff, spoilers for princess ever after?? super soft julius ;v;

☾ notes: i’m not dead y’all! also, thank you for the request, i kinda went overboard with a long backstory to the relationship-

since you’d be part of leviathan, you’re probably childhood friends with him

he thought you were annoying at first 100%

avoided you at almost all costs because he just wanted to be sad and alone

his favourite place to mope ponder things was the pool

so when he came over to be sad, he paused at the entrance seeing you sitting by the edge of the pool with your legs dangling in the water

he considered just finding somewhere else, but then he heard a sniffle and he felt kinda bad for ditching-

after he awkwardly shuffled over and sat next to you, he asked what was wrong, in which you told him why you’re there

he definitely didn’t know what to tell you

the best he could do was stiffly rub your back as you cried

wasn’t what you wanted, but it was something

from there on out, you’d gotten closer as friends

let’s get this straight, ever since he talked to you by the poolside he was in love with you

he’d always been protective of you

so

you can imagine how he reacted when you got stabbed in the side by jamie

he was quite literally seeing red because of his busted eye

but now he saw red figuratively after hearing a shriek of pain come from you

after returning to the safe house and everyone had for the most part healed up, it was you who found him by the pool

sitting with him as he beat himself up over not being able to keep you safe and also getting injured himself, you returned his gesture all those years ago, except the awkwardness was gone

when he finished, you pulled him in and gave him a kiss to let him know he was fine and didn’t fuck up

which broke him

but also prompted you guys to start dating

NOW

julius is a really awkward boyfriend

at the start anyway

he eases into it eventually, but in the beginning, he’s hopeless

stumbles over words and goes red after any form of romantic affection

every anniversary of yours would be spent by the poolside just talking

and you’d always cook together

there had forever been a part of you that longed to be a normal person without all this partizan bullshit

so you often engaged in blander activities to even out the being part of an evil organisation bit

every morning, if he noticed you’d somehow escaped his arms, he’d shuffle closer to you and pull you against him again

and if either of you woke up before the other, you’d get each other your morning coffee or tea and drink them in bed together

he’s really fucking touch starved, so cuddles every night 

and he loves kissing, oh my god

he’s addicted

he also loves it when you kiss his scars

it makes the baby feel loved ;v;

and you’re under close watch when out on missions because no one touches his partner

though you often get teased for being couple-y around the safe house by other members

when jamie first came to the safe house, julius was mad

did not want you near him

and to be honest, you were also really cautious

jamie caught a glimpse of the scar on your side from the tompkins manor scuffle and apologised to you

so while you accepted it, both you and julius were still quite apprehensive

over time you grew to be friends with him, but you found you could never be around jamie without julius’ arm around you or hand holding yours

sometimes when he was jealous he’d pull you in for a kiss that lasted a couple seconds before shooting whoever was making him jealous a glare

at one point it became so frequent that you pulled him in by the belt and gave him a kiss

which broke him pt. 2

i personally believe that julius likes to caress your jaw when y’all kiss

the other hand is around your waist or holding your hand most of the time

the coloured lights in the pool illuminated your face as you stared into the clear water, swinging your legs gently through the water. it was over. leviathan, the organisation that defined your whole life and gave you a purpose, had disbanded.

memories were attached to the hexagonal tower you’d been living in for the past 10 years minimum, so you were reluctant to leave. your suitcases sat in your bedroom, completely empty. you’d meant to pack soon so you could start living a regular life, but now you weren’t sure you’d ever get one.

‘thought i’d find you here,’ julius said from the entrance. a soft smile played on his lips as he saw your figure bathed in the purple and blue pool lights. as you looked at him, his gaze brightened slightly, taking leisurely strides before pulling his socks off and rolling his pants up to his knees and sitting beside you. ‘what’s on your mind?’ he asked, placing a hand on your thigh and squeezing lightly.

taking a deep breath, you leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. ‘just what we’re gonna do now that leviathan is gone,’ you admitted.

‘yeah?’

‘my whole life revolved around this group, i don’t know who i am without it,’ you continued. ‘what do regular people even do?’

julius leaned his head on top of yours and followed the rhythm you had set by swinging your legs through the water. ‘i don’t know.’

‘i’m gonna miss this place...’

a silence filled the area as you sat beside each other in the dim light. most people found an almost all black room to be depressing, but you both found comfort in the darkness.

‘i will too,’ he said finally, pulling away from you to stare into your eyes. ‘but i know that i’m home whether we stay here or not, because i’ll be with you.’

smiling through misty eyes, you pulled him in by the back of the neck, pressing your lips to his gently. snaking his arm around your waist and grazing his fingers along your jaw, resting his index and middle fingers against your neck and smiling at your quickened pulse.

the sweet moment didn’t last much longer, as the water engulfed both of your bodies and the sound of a splash filled your ears. looking to the water, you saw the rest of leviathan in their swimwear and laughing amongst themselves.

‘sorry, we saw an opportunity and took it,’ jamie said through his smile.

‘the building is still ours, you know,’ phi explained.

‘pool party as celebration for our freedom?’ you and julius stared at the prince of maradova, then back to each other with wide grins.

‘fuck yeah!’

[libraryofloveletters]

Misplaced Promises

Eddie Diaz x Sister!Reader

Warnings: sibling arguing, general protectiveness, a few swear words and that’s it I think ? 

Category: angst/fluff

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: This one mostly focuses how Eddie tries his best to keep promises he makes and be a good brother but he keeps fucking up. I also tried my best for this to follow a timeline and make it make sense with canon but idk, I made shit up go with it. // 

---- 

14 years old // 19 years old. 

The 2 of you were 5 years apart but you were attached at the hip. Eddie was your big brother, the guy you looked up to the most, the person you went to when you didn’t know what to do. You had 2 sisters but what you and Eddie had was different. Sophia and Adriana were the two older ones, they stuck together and they included you but it wasn't the same. 

The day before Eddie announced that he enlisted, he had been quiet, shifty and weird all day. He avoided you at all costs. You needed him to look over a project for you - seeing that you ended up with the same English teacher he had in high school but he kept coming up with excuses as to why he couldn't help you. 

“Running to the store to pick up something for mom, I'll check when I get back” 

“Going to play some ball with the guys, remind me when I get back” 

“Gonna shower, I'll do it after” 

“Let me go see Shan for a bit, I'll check it when I come home” 

Excuse after excuse, he was up to something and knew you would be able to tell so he ignored you at all costs. The next morning at breakfast, he announced that he was enlisting, Shannon was at breakfast too and she didn’t seem shocked at all. 

Your father asked him why, your mother began crying and your sisters wished him good luck and hoped that he would be safe. You on the other hand, had your eyes glued to Shannon. 

“You knew?” your question directed straight at her. 

She nodded, “he told me last night” 

“Huh,” you scoff, getting up. “you told her before you told us ?” looking towards your brother. 

“y/n, don’t” his look pleading you not to start and you didn’t, simply walking away and going to your bedroom. You can hear bits of the conversation from your room, Eddie telling your parents that he’s only going to do one tour just until he finds what he really wants to do. 

It was a while before someone came looking for you and no surprise, it was Eddie. 

“Can I check the paper for you now?” he sticks his head in from the doorway, waiting for your answer- his way of hoping that you’d talk to him. 

“Sure” nodding toward the computer on the desk. Eddie made himself comfortable in the chair and began going over the paper. The keyboard clicking as he edited the paper and your sighing were the only sounds to be heard. 

Everyone had been dealing with the news differently. Your father had turned to whatever project he was building in the backyard, your mother had stepped out- probably to go to the store to get stuff to make one last proper meal for him before he left and your sisters seemed to be handling it well, you could hear them bickering in the hallway over who would get his room as they passed by. 

It’s not that they didn’t love him, they just had a different version of the world and of love. 

The whole family did.  

Sophia and Adriana were the first two, all the love and support of your parents was what they basked in. 

Eddie was the only boy, automatically gaining him an in as a mama’s boy and his father’s only son, someone to show off- he was their pride and joy. 

That left you, not that they loved you any less because they ‘love all their children the same’ but you never got the parental love and affection that your siblings did. Your parents were busy working and now that you were in high school and capable of looking after yourself, you saw them even less. Eddie had always been there, at the recitals, school concerts, whenever you learnt a new trick and was looking for someone to show, he was there. 

In some way, Eddie raised you more than your parents did. 

That’s why you couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

“Couldn't just find a job here like every other lost kid after high school ? You had to go sign up to get yourself killed?” sitting up, you look towards him. 

Eddie sighed, leaning back into the chair and looking at you. He looked sad, almost hurt. “I didn’t ‘sign up to get myself killed’” he tells you, “I can’t sit around watching Soph and Adriana get their lives together meanwhile I'm still living with mom and dad and I have no idea what to do” 

“So what? you take a little longer to get your life together, that’s not the end of the world.” 

“I’m supposed to know what I want to do, I've been out of high school for a year and a half. Most people have already moved out of their parents’ houses” 

“God you’re so stupid” you groan, falling back onto the bed.

“Excuse me?” he looks at you, obviously offended. You get up off the end, pacing the room for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. 

“Just because you’re lost doesn't mean you sign up for the fricking army! Eddie, you could die” your voice breaks at the end of the sentence. Then and only then did Eddie really see how upset you were, you really thought he could die- yes there was that possibility but he knew that when he signed up. He gets up off the chair, you were now facing the window, not wanting him to see the tears that were forming. His hand resting gently on your shoulder. 

“I’m not gonna die” he whispers, pulling your shoulder towards him which caused you to turn. “You better not, I'll kill you” 

“But I'll be de-” “shut up” you give him a look, he chuckles and pulls you in for a hug. “I promise I'll come home, who else is going to keep you in check?” he teased which earned him a smack to the side, “more like who’s gonna keep you in check” you rebutted, a smile on your face now. Eddie kissed the top of your head, his cheek now resting atop of head - abuela’s words ringing in his head. 

“Don’t make promises you can't keep Edmundo” 

She had scolded him for promising to give his sister her candy back after he knew he was going to eat it (and he did, but that’s besides the point) 

He promised to come home but he didn’t know if he would. 

--

17 years old // 22 years old 

“We’re having a baby!” Eddie’s arm around Shannon as they announce the second piece of exciting news for that evening to the family.

Eddie had finally returned from his first tour with the announcement that he and Shannon were getting married all while they were expecting as well. Your parents were the first up to go congratulate the love birds, your sisters are next and you follow last. Hugging Shannon who was already beaming with happiness and then your brother who hugs you for a second longer than needed, whispering that he wants to talk to you afterwards. Humming, you step back and go to help your mother set up for dinner. 

The rest of the evening is spent talking about when the baby is arriving, the plans for the wedding and whatever other exciting things are happening for them at that moment. You tuned out about halfway through the conversation, only replying with the simplest answers to make it seem like you were actually listening. 

Your sisters, mother and Shannon were in the kitchen all gossiping and making plans for the wedding. A big church wedding, ‘do it right’ as your mother would say because ‘if you do it right the first time, you don’t need to do it again.’

The whole big wedding thing was a scam- a pile of bullshit that you wanted no part of. Don’t let that fool you, you were beyond happy for your brother, becoming a husband and a father- those were things the two of you used to joke about, thinking that it was such a long time from then yet here you are. 

The door slammed as it shut, Eddie sitting beside you on the porch. He set a bottle on the step beside you. You glance at the bottle and then at him, brows furrowed. 

“Thought you could use a drink after all the exciting news” he hums, taking a sip out of his own bottle. 

You let out a dry chuckle, taking a sip yourself. “Yeah, congrats dude. Husband and baby daddy in one go ? You got the guys around here beat” jokingly nudging him with your shoulder. Eddie laughs, “yeah.” the word kind of trailed off, there was more to the answer than he was letting on. 

“What's wrong ?” 

“Are you really happy for me ?” he turns to you, “I know you weren't exactly happy when I left, especially that I told Shannon first. I just.. you’re my little sister and it means so much that you’re on board with everything-” your hand rests on his. 

“You always were kind of an idiot huh?” you pat his hand, Eddie looking clearly offended again. “Of course I'm happy for you. You’re my brother and no matter how much we fight, there’s no way I wouldn't be there for you. Eddie, you’re going to be an amazing dad, you know that right ?” 

“Yeah ? You think so ?” 

“Mhm hm, know how I know?” 

“Do tell” 

“Because you raised me and I turned out just fine” you smiled and so did Eddie, shaking his head. 

--

23 years old // 28 years old 

Eddie’s place was covered in boxes, the fight with your parents was the last button to be pushed. He packed up the remnants of his life in El Paso and was on his way out to the door.  

Christopher was sitting on the couch, his favourite show on tv as you were packing up the last of the dishes in the kitchen. Eddie had just stepped back in after taking some boxes out to the truck. You leant against the counter, looking at him. He knew you weren't the biggest fan of his plan but you supported him nonetheless because that’s what siblings do. 

“What? Why do you keep staring ?” he snapped. 

“Jesus, who pissed in your coffee?” rolling your eyes at your brother.  

“Sorry, I'm just ready to get out of here” he tosses a few things into a box. There had been unspoken words between the two of you since he mentioned that he wanted to move. You didn’t say anything, just listened and helped pack boxes but all of that stops now. 

“Are you sure this is the smartest thing?” 

“What do you mean?” he stops what he was doing and turns his attention to you. 

“I know mom and dad were in the wrong for asking- telling you that Chris should move in with them, that’s bullshit. He’s not their kid, he’s your kid but why are you running Eddie ? You have family there besides them, Sophia and Adriana and me. I’m here Eddie, I've always been here, helping you with Chris since Shannon left.” 

“That’s exactly the point, Shannon left. She upped and left us y/n, left me to raise Chris by myself.” 

“So did you.” you tell him what you had been waiting to tell him since Christoper was a baby. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” the anger visible on his face. 

“You left. You upped and left Shannon when she needed you the most, she needed a partner that was here and not thousands of miles away. She just had a baby- your baby and you left her to go to the fucking desert! you risked your life for what ?! you had a family Eddie! You promised just one tour but you just had to go back, you had a family that needed you!” 

“Exactly! I had a family that needed me! That’s why I left, I had to provide for them.” 

“Don’t give me that shit. You wanna know why mom and dad walk all over you when it comes to raising Chris ? Because you left! You fucking left when the mother of your child, your wife and your child needed you! He needed a father and you left Eddie! Do you know what that does to a child?!” 

“Don’t tell me how to raise my child and you sure as hell don't get a say in where my marriage went wrong!” the two of you stood in the kitchen shouting at each other. 

The things you said were nothing but what you felt was the truth - he did leave Shannon after she had Chris, when she needed him to be there. You weren't siding with her but you weren't picking up for him either- someone had to let him straight and your parents would never dare say the things you would say to him. Although they didn’t like his approach to raising Christoper, they would never say that because Eddie was their son. They much rather half ass suggest things and beat around the bush than tell Eddie straight what they felt. 

The rest of the night was quiet, nothing left to be said between the two of you. Tucking Chris into bed one last time before they leave, you spend the night because you promised Chris you’d be there when they left. 

The morning comes and Eddie is quiet, no surprise there. Chris is attached to your hip and the 2 of you stood outside the house, saying goodbye. You crouch down in front of your nephew, “will you come visit?” he asks you sweetly, your heart breaks a little knowing that you won’t be visiting anytime soon but you put on a smile for him. “Of course, only if we stay up late and eat all the candy we can find” you tickle his side, earning a full belly laugh- your favourite sound. 

“I love you always, you know that right ?” you look up at the little boy who's nodding. “I love you” he smiles, his finger tapping your nose, yours comes up to mirror his action. 

“Okay, give me a big hug and you be good for your dad, he’s a good guy. He just bugs out sometimes” you hug Christoper, his arms wrapped around your neck as you pick him up, carrying him to the trunk. 

Eddie comes out just as you’re putting Chris in. He hands you the keys to the house as he checks to make sure Chris is buckled in properly. 

The two of you standing there awkwardly before Eddie mumbles bye and walks around the truck. Stepping back, you watch as they pull you, Christoper waving to you from the window. 

--

25 years old // 30 years old

El Paso had treated you well, growing up there and going to school but you needed a change now. Applying to teaching jobs all over the country, you hear back from two- one is Minnesota and one in LA but you couldn't handle the cold so LA it was. 

The staff at the school were sweet and welcoming, you had arrived just in time for the new school year. The woman at the front desk was asking you some standard questions when she came across your name on the form.

“Miss, is it l/n or Diaz for your last name ? You have both listed here” she looks to you for an answer. You stared at the paper in front of you- l/n was your mother’s last name and Diaz was your father’s. All your legal documents had Diaz on it but you weren’t sure if you wanted to go by it or not, maybe make something for yourself with the Diaz family name attached to you.

“Miss ?” She asked again, looking at you.

“Diaz. Y/n Diaz is fine” 

Classes start and you’re getting settled in nicely, there’s still some shuffling around in terms of students and you get a finalized class list at the end of the week. Not really looking over it, you set it on the desk until the next morning when you say hello to your new class.

You begin writing your name on the board as the children set in.  

Ms. Diaz in big bold letters. 

“Hey! We have the same last name!” a little boy calls out- voice almost identical to your Chris’ voice. 

Turning, there he was sitting n the middle of the class, your nephew Christopher - except no one knows he’s your nephew nor did he seem to remember that you were his aunt. 5 years without a phone call or a visit is a long time, you wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't remember you and he doesn’t. You treat him as you would treat the rest of your students. 

The end of the day rolls around, Chris is the last student waiting with you. It was getting a bit chilly so the two of you headed into the classroom. Christoper tells you about his dad- unknowing to him that Eddie is your brother and talks about how he’s a firefighter and all the cool things he got to do when he visited the station. 

A blonde man, tall and built in stature comes running into your classroom. “Chris! Buddy!” he heads over to the boy, giving him a hug. “Buck!” the boy smiles, returning the gesture. It was obvious that he knew Chris, the man noticed you watching them. 

“Hi, I'm Ms. Diaz, y/n. Christopher’s teacher” you introduce yourself. The man smiles, “I'm Buck, I work with Christopher’s dad” 

“He sent you to pick up Chris ?” 

“Oh no, he's parking, I just came in to find him because we didn’t see anyone outside. Sorry about that, work ran late” he apologizes. 

“No worries, Chris is a great kid. oh buddy, I was supposed to give you a sticker for your work today hold on” you leave Chris and Buck by the door as you go back to your desk, looking for a sticker sheet. When you returned, Eddie was there with Buck, both men had their backs turned to you. 

“Yeah! She has the same last name as us dad, there is she” the boy smiled, waving at you. “Ms. Diaz!” he shouts as you make your way over. You don't look at the men instead you step past them, crouching down in front of Chris showing him the sticker sheet. 

“Which one would you like?” showing him the sheet, Christopher picks out a little green star with a smiley face on it. Peeling it from the sheet, you stick it on his shirt. 

“Can dad and Buck have matching ones too ?” he asks sweetly and who were you to turn down such a cute face.

“Of course,” smiling at him, you stand and turn to Buck. “Can I ?” he nods, watching as you repeat the process and stick the green star to his shirt. 

When it comes Eddie’s turn, you can feel Buck’s eyes on you and you see him move to Eddie as well. As for Eddie himself, his eyes were wide, he hadn't spoken to you in almost 5 years and his parents refused to tell him anything other than ‘she’s fine’ when he asked. You didn’t ask him, you just stuck the sticker on him, on his forehead to be exact. 

Eddie pulled you in for a hug, a well needed yet weird one. Buck and Chris are whispering behind the two of you. 

“I’m sorry” Eddie whispers, his arms still around you. 

“I’m the one that said all that shit” you tell him, he shakes his head and lets you go. 

“You were right. I’m sorry. I know sorry isn't going to fix it but you’re here and I- I just wanna fix things. I miss my sister and I know Chris misses his aunt” 

“Yeah, you’re an ass but you’re still my brother. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try” 

Buck goes “oh” behind you, you’re now standing beside Eddie- arms folded and brows furrowed, the same expression on both of you. 

“Yeah, I see it now” Buck mumbles, “I’m starving, what’s for dinner ?” he asks, him and Chris walking towards the door together.

 You and Eddie follow them out, “why don't you join us for dinner ?” Eddie turns to you, you give him a look. “I can’t crash your time with your boyfriend, y’all are probably-” “my what ?” once again, Eddie had a stupid look on his face. 

“So you’re telling me that wonderful human ball of joy isn't your boyfriend ?” looking at your brother, the stupid look still on his face. 

“No, why would you think that ?” hearing the genuine confusion in his voice, you laugh. 

“No reason, but if you’re not gonna date him, I might.” Giving your brother a smile, his head tilts and a look you know all too well on his face. 

“Don’t” his finger pointed at you, you were now biting back a laugh. 

“Hey Buck!” you shout, running towards him, Eddie running behind you and shouting for you to stop. 

Things were going to fall back into place pretty easily. 

-----

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @keenmarvellover​ @beth-winchester21​ @fernandaweasley2​ @yikesyikesyikes95​ @hotchsdarling​ @duhbar1975​@hailsstormthings @averyhotchner​ @captainxholmes​ 

[jackrrabbit]

it will come back [pt. 2] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 3]

A/N: Title from the Hozier song—“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: yandere, violence (not directed toward reader), crying, Shiggy REALLY likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep, non-explicit sexual content. [In later parts: 18+, sex, other stuff]

He—Tomura—keeps visiting.

At first you think it’s because of the free medical care, and you wish you had the spine to tell him to suck it up and go see a professional. After a couple weeks turn into a couple months and his wounds fade into ragged purple scars, though, you start to think differently.

Within a short time Tomura has figured out your work schedule, and he does a decent job of not showing up after your long shifts. The unavoidable consequence of this is that he ends up monopolizing your precious days off, but you come to the realization about a month and a half in that you don’t actually mind. You like it. It’s like spending time with a friend.

Mostly you guys talk. It doesn’t seem like Tomura really has anyone to talk to the way the two of you do, but that’s probably just you projecting. It’s usually shallow stuff—TV shows you like, video games he plays, funny stories from patients you treated. Sometimes when you’re cooking for yourself, you make extra for him. (It happens a lot, actually, and at one point you bring up how much his appetite is costing you and the next time you see him he brings a bag of rice and makes you a porridge that crunches between your teeth when you try to eat it. You can’t finish yours, but he eats an entire bowl and insists that you’re being picky.)

Sometimes he sleeps over on the couch, but he’s always gone when you wake up.

The two of you skirt around the heavier stuff, and you know it’s intentional on his part. You have to resist the urge to ask him about being a villain—he’s all but confirmed it for you, and it’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it? In the same way you can’t help looking at a car crash, you want to poke and prod and find out what it is, exactly, that Tomura does for a living. That part of his life is suspiciously absent from your discussions—if you didn’t know better, you’d think he spends all of his time sleeping and playing games and breaking into your place.

On the other hand, you don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. You can accept criminality in the abstract, but you’ve treated too many victims of the bullshit hero–villain battle to be comfortable really knowing why Tomura avoids public places.

So you don’t ask about it, and Tomura doesn’t tell, and you don’t look up his name. And it’s easy. It’s nice. You’d forgotten what it’s like to come back to a home that isn’t empty.

And then one day when you get off a few hours early from your shift, you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks for yourself (hey, you’ve been working hard, you’re entitled to binge a little on foods that you’re afraid to look at the fat content for), and you think, Hm, I wonder if Tomura wants some.

[You: 7:49 PM] > Are you coming over today? [T: 7:49 PM] > Yeah why [You: 7:51 PM] > Getting snacks > Want some? [T: 7:51 PM] > No

[T: 8:12 PM] > When r u coming back to ur place

[T: 8:58 PM] > Hey where are you

[T: 9:39 PM] > (Y/N)?

There’s a man with a gun in the convenience store.

It takes you a second to process at first. You’re standing in the snack food aisle seeking out Oreos and debating the merits of Double Stuf vs. Mega when you catch the mumbled demand and the metallic clicking noise you’ve only ever heard in movies before. It’s a gun—you know that, but your mind dismisses it because it’s ridiculous. Guns are rare in hero society. People don’t go around robbing bodegas at gunpoint anymore.

(You should know better. You work in a goddamn ER. But you compartmentalize, and the crimes you see written across your patients’ bodies stay out of the realm of your personal life because you need them to.)

It’s only when you see the muzzle of a hunting rifle pushed up to the cashier’s sweaty neck that you really understand what’s happening.

You drop to the ground immediately, looking toward the exit but it’s shut and there’s some kind of metal…thing holding the door closed. The cashier mumbles a denial and you can hear him fumble around with the cash drawer for what feels like ages.

It’s real. This is real. You’re in the middle of a robbery. Where are the heroes? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

God, you’re a hypocrite, cowering behind the aisle divider and waiting for someone to step up while the robber’s demands get increasingly louder and more frantic. He wants money, and the cashier (who, you remember, is a man in his sixties with hands that shake with Parkinson’s when he holds out your receipt) isn’t being fast enough.

“That’s it? There’s no more? Are you fucking kidding me, there’s gotta be a safe or something—“

“No! No, p-please, I’m sorry, this is all I have!”

You cringe, crushing your eyes closed as if that will make it go away. You’re surprised you can hear at all over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Don’t fuck with me old man, I know there’s more! Show me the safe or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”

No! You have to do something. You can’t just sit here. You’ve heard plenty of death threats from your patients (not to mention that one from Tomura), and you know the difference between a bluff and a serious warning. Maybe you can catch the robber off guard, try to pull the gun away? You stand up quickly, hoping against hope that you won’t regret this, but in a split second you see that the cashier has the same idea and he’s trying to pull the rifle out of the robber’s hand and—

BANG.

Something warm and wet splatters across your face.

///

Tomura is angry when you get back to the apartment. As soon as he hears your key in the lock he rises from your couch so he can grab your collar with three fingers, jerking your head up to force you to look at him. “Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting—“

But he cuts short in the middle of his sentence. Maybe because he sees the look on your face. Or maybe he just notices the traces of blood you haven’t been able to wipe off.

“What happened,” Tomura says. It’s not a question. He adjusts his grip slightly so it’s not quite as punishing, but you hold still anyway.

You have to force your mouth open in order to speak, but when your voice comes out it’s more steady than you thought it would be. “It’s not my blood. There was a robbery at the store. The cashier got shot.”

“Oh.” He releases you and frowns. “That’s it?”

“Fuck you.” You push past him into the kitchen to get yourself a drink with trembling hands. Pantry’s out of shōchū, whiskey will just make you sicker—ahh, there it is. Baijiu. The glug glug glug of the liquor into the glass does nothing to put your nerves at ease, but you pour yourself a double anyway.

“Wait—wait.” Tomura’s hands twitch and rub over his arms like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “Calm down. Why are you so upset? Don’t you see this stuff every day?”

You do. You’re an ER nurse. There’s no injury you haven’t seen. But it’s not about the blood. “I...I knew him. The cashier. He was nice. He had a grandkid on the way. I—“ You bite your lip and down the baijiu in one gulp. It burns.

Tomura clearly doesn’t know how to comfort you; probably doesn’t even really know why you need to be comforted. What does it mean that death is so meaningless to him? you wonder. But you need someone to listen to you, clueless or not, and Tomura will have to do.

The baijiu is still bitter and hot down your throat when you speak again. “You know something? Know what they asked me when the heroes finally showed up and pulled us out of there, me and the corpse?”

“…What?” Tomura asks warily.

“They stuck a camera in my face and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the hero who saved me. Any words of gratitude I wanted to share,” you spit. Now it’s your turn to feel your hands making fists at your sides. Your fingernails scratch into your palms like the pain can be an outlet for the sudden overwhelming fury spilling over you. “They didn’t save him. They were too late.”

Tomura’s eyes widen, and through your curtain of anger you can tell he’s looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. It’s unlike him to even look directly at you, and when he does it’s usually in disinterest or half-sincere irritation. This, though…this is different. He’s watching you like a believer watches a prophet. You can tell—or at least some deep, ugly part of you that you hope is wrong can tell—that he’s trying not to smile.

“I hate this,” you say, and the first tear drips out of your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s awful. You don’t want to cry in front of Tomura. You don’t want to show him how weak you are. But before you can wipe it away, Tomura’s hand comes up and does it for you, smearing the tear over your cheek in a gesture that—for him—is oddly tender.

Then he hugs you.

It’s stiff and awkward, like he’s forgotten how to do it, but the intention is clear. His arms fold around your back, pulling you into his chest while his chin makes its way to rest on your shoulder. He’s leaning into you so deeply that your spine is arched back, and you stagger away from him only for him to step closer again to make up the distance.

“It’s not fair, hm,” he murmurs into your hair. His tone is the closest thing to sympathy you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement you can’t ignore. “They’re always too late, aren’t they? The heroes… And everyone will watch that video of you thanking the heroes, and they’ll think they’re safe too. They’ll keep going about their lives and think that nothing bad can happen to them because a hero will always be around to save them…but you and I know that’s a lie.”

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion that’s raising goosebumps over your arms while Tomura rubs circles into your back, but when it clicks you shiver because it’s fear. You’ve never really been afraid of Tomura before, even when you should’ve been. Does he realize he’s backing you up with how forcefully he’s pushing himself into you? The backs of your knees hit the arm of your couch and you topple onto it with Tomura following.

He holds himself above you on his hands, legs tangled with yours. His eyes are wild and he’s not even trying to suppress his grin now. You’re trapped lying on your back under him—pinned like a butterfly under glass.

“Get off of me,” you say as calmly as you can.

“It’s all a lie, all of it…” A hand comes up and strokes your cheek, rubbing with two fingers at a stray fleck of blood on your neck. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, but I’m so glad you understand…”

“Let me up now, Tomura.”

He holds still for a long moment—waiting, thinking, considering—and then sits up, still straddling you but loosely enough that you can scramble back away from him on the couch. Your heart is racing, but you try to slow your breaths so he doesn’t pick up on how scared you are.

“Don’t freak out. You’re no fun,” Tomura says, and you exhale a sigh of relief at how normal he sounds. You never thought you’d be so happy about him looking at you like you’re nothing.

“I think you should go,” you say carefully.

He rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you mad? I thought I could stay here tonight, like usual. Since I waited for so long.”

“I’m not mad. I just…want to be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone tonight. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Oh, now you care. “Fine. Okay? Fine. You can sleep on the couch.” You’re too tired to argue any more, and you’ve never really been good at convincing Tomura to do anything he doesn’t want to. It’s a miracle he listened to you when you told him to get off you. Considering how often he breaks into your apartment, it’s not like you could keep him out anyway.

So he stays the night. He doesn’t bother you when you take a shower and go to bed, he just lies on the couch in his street clothes. When you wake up in the morning he’s disappeared like he always does, and for the first time since you met him you’re truly relieved that he’s gone.

///

You always thought it would take some level of courage you don’t possess to actually bite the bullet and look Tomura up. To do so would mean saying goodbye to whatever strange relationship the two of you have built over the months, and you’re just not brave enough to risk it.

Turns out it’s not courage that makes you type his name into the search bar. It’s cowardice. You’re lying in bed under the covers when you do it, and the blue-white screen of your laptop is the only light in the room. Your comforter is pulled up almost over your head like it’s a wall that can block out reality.

“tomura”, you enter into the search bar, but you don’t hit return. Instead, you look at the search suggestions.

> tomura shigaraki > tomura shigaraki league of villains > tomura shigaraki decay

Something about it sounds familiar. But you’re not ready. Still, after everything, you’d rather keep your eyes closed. You backspace and snap your laptop shut, and when you do your room is so dark that you think the emptiness might swallow you up.

///

[T: 5:52 PM] > Are u going to be at home tn

[T: 6:14 PM] > Hey check ur phone

[T: 6:42 PM] > Stop ignoring me > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N)

[T: 6:46 PM] 3 MISSED CALLS [You: 6:50 PM] > I’m at work [T: 6:50 PM] > Don’t lie > you finished an hour ago

[T: 7:13 PM] 1 MISSED CALL [T: 7:14 PM] > You said you werent mad [You: 7:15 PM] > I’m not [T: 7:15 PM] > Then stop being a brat > im coming over > ill bring takeout

You’re nervous about seeing him, but in the two weeks since he pushed you down on the couch you’ve found yourself…missing him. Like it or not, he’s made himself a fixture in your life. So when you get home you’re brimming with anticipation, wondering who you’ll get when you open the door—the normal Tomura you’ve come to like over the past few months, or the one from that night. The villain.

But it’s just him. Good old Tomura, laden with plastic bags and containers of greasy fast food for the two of you to gorge yourselves on. You tease him for being cheap and he argues that you’re just a snob and everything seems so normal that you can almost forget the look in his red eyes when he told you that you understood.

Almost.

///

You probably have no idea how good you look when you’re crying.

Of the couple thousand views on the news channel video of your “rescue” from the convenience store robber, at least a tenth are from Tomura. Eventually he just downloads the video onto his computer so he doesn’t have to read the inane comments that the other viewers leave on the webpage. It seems like everyone but him thinks you should feel lucky that you were saved by a hero before the robber could get to you, too.

As always, the public are a bunch of shit-soaked morons. Reading the comments makes him angry, so angry he’s tempted to look into a few of these brainless sheep and see how lucky they feel when they’ve caught the attention of a violent criminal. But that wouldn’t be productive, so he saves the video externally and leaves the news website alone. It’s for the best. Besides, seeing the “views” counter on the website tick up and up by the dozen every time he refreshes is just another reminder that other people are watching this; other people are seeing how delicate and vulnerable and pretty you are with tears spilling out of your eyes and the cashier’s blood sprayed over your clothing.

Thousands of useless fucking NPCs are looking at you just like Tomura is. They’re probably thinking about how sweet you look, just like he is. And they’re probably imagining all the ways they can take advantage of your fragile emotional state, just like him.

You’re too trusting for your own good. Tomura used to think it was a virtue, and it is, but only when it comes to him. Whenever he thinks about how your face is slapped over a dozen different news websites for the whole world to see, he has to dig his fingernails into his neck to keep calm. It’s better when he can just watch the video and pretend he’s the only one seeing it.

And it’s not like not watching the video is an option. Tomura can’t resist your crying face. There’s a point around the three minute mark where your voice breaks in the middle of your statement, and sometimes Tomura skips there in the video just so he can hear that pathetic little sob and replay it over and over and over. Maybe it’s sappy, but Tomura really does feel his heart skip a beat at the way your eyes and nose are rubbed red from your misery.

How fucked up is it that he gets off watching you cry?

Would you be angry if you knew? You probably would, but you put up with so much from him already. Maybe you’d be okay with it if he told you he really and truly tried to hold out. The first dozen times Tomura watched the video, he refused to touch himself no matter how tight his pants got while you choked out your stilted answers to the reporters’ questions, but at this point he barely has to click “play” on the video before he gets hard and takes matters into his own hands.

At the end of the day, it’s your fault. Everything about you is so erotic, from your shaky voice to your pouty, bitten-red lips. Isn’t it completely normal to be aroused while looking at the person you like? And Tomura likes you, he really likes you. He doesn’t have any pictures of you, and with the high definition of the news channel’s video he can see every perfect contour of your cheekbones, every pore in your skin, every glistening wet eyelash.

It’s not that Tomura doesn’t feel sympathy for how upset you are in the video. He does! Not even just sympathy, even—he’s empathetic. He knows exactly how it feels to be let down by the heroes. How dare they tell you you need to be grateful while you’re still trying to wipe brain matter off your shirt? Always too little, too late. It’s not fair.

But if he’s being honest? As miserable as you are, Tomura is happy that you were in the store when that robber came in and that you had to watch a man you knew get his brains blown out in front of you. You need a wake-up call to lose faith in hero society. If you have to suffer some emotional trauma in the process, that seems like a fair price to pay.

And the fact that Tomura gets to jerk off to it? It’s almost like destiny.

➠ [Part 3]

[justcourttee]

Foc where mari is accused of cheating on adrein but shes been dating Damian for months

I love the chaotic energy. I hope you like it!

Double Dates

“But c’mon Marinette, I don’t understand why you and Adrien don’t want to go on a double date with us!”

Alya fell dramatically over her friend’s lap, flashing her the biggest puppy dogs imaginable.

“And for the third time this week Alya, Adrien and I are not dating!” Marinette paused her stitching to pat her friend’s forehead in comfort.

For whatever reason imaginable, Alya and the other’s got this idea in their head that because Marinette finally stopped stuttering all over Adrien, it obviously meant she was dating him. It didn’t help that they were spending an excessive amount of time together as well. But really, she could explain if they just gave her the chance.

“You guys can stop hiding it! Is it because of his dad? If that’s the reason, we promise to keep a secret and won’t post anything, Reporter’s honor.”

Alya crossed her heart, her eyes only seeming to get bigger as a cheeky smirk pulled at her lips. Marinette released the sigh she was holding back. No, even if she did explain, she’s almost positive that her friends wouldn’t be able to let go of the ideals they held so close to over the years.

“Sorry to disappoint you babe, but we will never be getting together and that’s that.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Can you believe her Nino? Why would she want to hide her relationship from her best friend? This is getting so frustrating.”

Nino rubbed small circles into his girlfriend’s back as they walked down the avenue.

“I don’t know, my boy Adrien won’t admit it either. I get it that his father is tough, but even he would want his son to be happy, right?”

The two shared a look. That had to be it. Gabriel was just that horrible of a parent that he could care less about his son’s happiness if it meant the business would continue. As they turned the corner, a small giggle caught their attention. Alya’s eyes widened as she took in the sight in front of her.

Her best friend in an absolutely stunning dress, sitting outside one of Paris’ top restaurants, with a man that wasn’t Adrien.

“Maybe that’s a potential client?” Nino tried to offer, but Alya couldn’t be reached.

“I can’t believe she would cheat on Adrien! She’s so against liars and look at her, she’s the biggest hypocrite of them all!”

“Babe, he really could be a client, after all, look, they’re sitting at a table for four. It’s probably just small talk before Adrien gets there.”

Another giggle filled the air as Marinette reached over, allowing him to place a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

“This is utter bullshit. C’mon Nino, we’re facing this head-on.”

Nino tried to stutter out a defense, but all too quickly, he found himself being dragged toward the table.

“Excuse me, but I noticed that these seats are open, do you mind?”

Marinette’s face turned a deadly shade of pale as she waved her hands to the open chairs, inviting them to sit. Nino awkwardly slid into the chair beside the dark-haired man, avoiding eye contact at all cost.

“So Marinette, where is your boyfriend this evening?”

Alya’s expression was dark as she watched her friend’s mouth gape like a fish out of water. Out of everything she could imagine, Marinette cheating on Adrien was never a thought that passed her mind.  

“He’s right here, why do you ask?”

Nino slowly turned to glance at the man beside him. His cool composure didn’t match the fire in his eyes. Nino was confident that if he wanted to, he could shoot lasers from them if he concentrated hard enough.

“Yeah right pretty boy, you would think so huh? So are you the side guy or is Adrien? How long has Marinette been deceiving you? Or do you know that she’s taken? That’s really messed up.”

Nino tried to shake his head, tell Alya to stop without speaking, but she refused to even glance at him.

“I wasn’t aware that Agreste was even interested in my Hobi. I’ll be sure to correct that later.”

“Alya, please leave this alone.” Marinette’s pleading voice almost broke Nino’s heart. There had to be a good reason for all of this, he firmly believed it.

“Why? So you can continue going behind Adrien’s back? He’s too good for this Marinette.”

“I’m too good for what?”

Nino turned his head to the head of the table where Adrien stood, his arm thrown over a man he had never met. It almost looked like…

“Alya, it’s time for us to leave.”

His girlfriend’s attention snapped to him. Normally, he would be terrified of that look on her face, but now wasn’t the time to stand down. At the moment, he was more scared of the man beside him.

“Nino-”

“No, Alya, let’s go. After all, we’re interrupting their double date.”

A hand landed on his shoulder pulling him back into his seat with shocking strength.

“It looks like someone finally has a handle on the situation. Please, Nino was it?” Nino gulped as he nodded, unsure how the man knew his name. “Allow me to explain to your girlfriend here.”

“Explain what exactly?”

The man’s deadly eyes narrowed in on Alya before something even scarier happened, he smiled. Nino wasn’t sure if he should try to run, leave Alya to fend for herself, or stay and watch. Either way, he knew one thing. This was not something he was getting between.

“Alya Cesaire, a reporter for the Ladyblog. You just received an internship for the Daily Planet in their new department world affairs. Is all this correct?”

Alya nodded, her head cocked in curiosity.

“If you are such a grand reporter, as I assume you must be considering Mrs. Lane-Kent is very selective, then surely you must have picked up on the signs that your friend was seeing someone. The only thing you gravely misjudged was who. My friend Jon introduced the idea of a double date a few months ago, one that I was reluctant to at first.”

Adrien and Jon snickered as Marinette’s face flushed.

“However, when I arrived, I am not ashamed to say that I instantly found this woman striking. I have been courting your friend here since March, the majority of our outings with these two idiots.”

Two ‘hey’s’ echoed simultaneously causing Nino’s spinning head to fly off. Everything made so much more sense. Adrien and Marinette sneaking around together, reluctant to admit that they were dating. Well, they were dating, just not each other.

“But this doesn’t make any sense! Why would you hide the fact that you have a boyfriend, Marinette? I thought we were besties?”

“Because Alya, my boyfriend has a life of his own, one that he rarely escapes from unless he is meeting me here in secret. I’m sorry, but you have to understand. Not everyone has the freedom to express their private life without a backlash.”

Marinette reached over the table to intertwine her fingers with the man, both mirroring the same lovesick smile on their faces.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a double date to finish as I’m sure you and Nino have plans as well.”

Nino stood immediately, muttering apologies for both he and Alya as he drug her from the restaurant.

“But, Nino! We can’t leave! I have so many questions! Who is that man?”

Nino risked a glance back as Adrien and Jon took the seats that they had just abandoned. He was someone powerful, famous too, he was sure of it.

“It doesn’t matter Alya. When the time comes, Marinette and Adrien will come to us. Let’s not push the matter, after all, as long as they're happy right?”

Alya looked ready to argue, but instead, she sighed in defeat, speeding up her pace to match Nino’s.

“I suppose so. At least she’s not cheating on Adrien?”

Nino released the nervous laughter he had bottled up since seeing the man with Marinette.

“Yes, at least she’s not cheating on Adrien.”

Permanent Tag List:

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[retrievablememories]

this is me trying | lucas

title: this is me trying pairing: lucas x black!reader genre: angst request: “Hey do you think you can do a sequel about Lucas’ No manners like an aftermath of what happened after he hung up on her and what she’s been up too all this time. And what Lucas decided to do.” word count: 2.1k warnings: mentions of infidelity, mentions of an abortion, relationship problems, cursing a/n: that banner is boring af, but photoshop is a bitch who didn’t save my previous file and i don’t have time to play all night

the sequel to no manners. okay... i decided to go for a different type of ending here since i tend to make the couple break up/stay broken up in these angsty stories...and i know people tend to like endings where things are resolved...though EYE personally would not recommend this irl 💀

It’s been a few months since you’ve seen Lucas on any video call, and even longer since you’ve seen him in person. These couple months alone have seemed even longer and more tiresome than the previous duration of time when you were kept apart from him.

You haven’t heard from him in that time span, either, which makes you feel...it’s hard to know how to feel, especially with how you yourself froze him out to avoid admitting the truth. It’s easy enough to know what he’s doing through WayV’s posts on YouTube and Instagram and wherever else, but you don’t enjoy knowing next to nothing about how he’s doing—like you’re merely another fan when you’re actually his wife.

You also understand, though, that maybe you don’t have much room to complain with your previous actions. That doesn’t make it any less painful. Especially with him ignoring your small attempts to reach out to him.

Despite Sharia’s earlier advice, you decide to stay at your job and continue avoiding Daniel at all costs. Staying at home and having nothing to do during this conflict would only make you slip further into depression, which is the last thing you need right now. You’re in no state of mind to be trying to find another job and doing countless interviews, either. 

Luckily, Sharia doesn’t mind helping you stay away from Daniel or create the perfect facade that your marriage is still doing fine despite it being the exact opposite. Everyone at your job still thinks things are as they have always been, and you’re relieved for that.

That’s about the only point of relief in your life, though.

You’re reaching the end of your limit with how much you can endure of staying in that same house without Lucas, being reminded of him in every corner of every room. His clothes in the closet, his side of the bed, his favorite coffee mugs in the kitchen. You’ve already tried hiding some of his things out of sight so you wouldn’t have to face unwilling memories, but it’s too difficult to completely erase a presence that fills every aspect of your home. And that’s not something you really want to do, anyway—which makes you feel more downtrodden and unable to let go.

You decide you need to get out, get away, change your surroundings. It’s wearing you thin to keep coming back to this empty house everyday, drifting around the space like a misplaced ghost. If you stay here another month, you think you might lose your sanity once and for all. So, eventually, you start packing. Sharia doesn’t mind letting you stay over for a little while, and you are grateful for the welcome distraction and comfort that being in her company will provide.

On a day when you’re making the last few preparations to leave for Sharia’s place, you hear a car pulling up in the driveway. You’re confused for a few seconds, as you weren’t expecting any visitors and today isn’t the day Sharia is supposed to come over. However, your heart kicks up in its rhythm when you go to the window in the kitchen to check. It’s Lucas’s car.

For a few moments, you’re unsure what to think or how to react. You’ve wanted to see him for so long, but now that he’s here, you want him gone again. What will he say when he sees your things packed? Will he even care? Most importantly, what has he come here for, after all this time?

You don’t have much more time to think about these things before Lucas is getting out of the car and walking up to the door. You stand in your spot in the kitchen, frozen as the key turns in the lock.

Lucas walks into the house cautiously, as if he doesn’t know how to properly approach this environment after being gone for so long. When he catches sight of you through the kitchen entryway, he stops in his tracks, still standing in the living room.

Both of you stare at each other for a few long and agonizing seconds. His eyes are still weary and hurt like they were the night you told him the news, but there’s a question floating there, too.

“You’re not…?” His eyes drop down to your stomach, the front of your shirt, and it looks the same as he remembers it being months ago, before he left for China, despite you telling him of your pregnancy. If there’s one thing he remembers, it’s that.

“No,” you respond quietly, “There’s no way I could go through with it.”

Lucas pauses, then nods, though he doesn’t say anything else for a few long moments—nothing to explain his sudden appearance, nothing to comment on the decision you made.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at the ground, shifting his jaw.

“What...did you come here for?” you finally ask. The words sound harsh to your ears, and you wince internally, but you don’t know what else to do to make some kind of headway.

“Just...getting some things.” Lucas rubs the back of his neck warily, as if he’s not sure this is the right answer. Or maybe he just doesn't want to be here right now at all, having this conversation with you.

“Getting some things,” you echo. “Are you…” You’re not sure what you want to ask right now. “Leaving?”

“What’s the point of questioning me about it? Aren’t you doing the same thing?” Lucas’s eyes shift to one of your suitcases in the middle of the living room, still sitting open.

“Yes, but...you don’t even understand why I’m doing it. You’re just leaving. Are we both just going to abandon this house without even talking it out? That’s just the end of everything?” Now that you’ve found your voice again, the questions keep coming.

Lucas comes forward to step into the kitchen. “What would you like to say? What else is there that I need to know? You were drunk and lonely, weren’t you?” That phrase comes out with a sneer, which makes you wince like you’ve just had something physically thrown at you.

“I’ve spent months agonizing over this shit, Yukhei. I’ve felt completely alone and in the dark here. I had the abortion, I’ve been to therapy, I haven’t even looked at alcohol since then. I’ve seen the error of my fucking ways, believe me, and I still feel no more reassured about any of this.”

“Do you think that’s going to solve everything?” Lucas says, crossing his arms and staring at you from across the room.

“I don’t know! Maybe I didn’t do it for you. I did it because I didn’t want to have another man’s child! I did it for myself, to feel back in control of myself!”

“Y/N, you can do whatever you need to make this easier for you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to come running back to you.”

You sigh heavily and sit down in the kitchen chair, rubbing your hands over your face. “Maybe it’s a mistake for me to hope we can work something out at this point, but I long ago realized that living without you is next to unbearable. Why do you think I’m trying to get the fuck out of here? Everything here is ‘you.’” You don’t look at his eyes during any point of this speech, just instead staring at your hands where they meet on the table. “I see that if you want to leave, I won’t be able to stop you. But at least give me a proper explanation and a clean break like a human being.”

Lucas falls quiet again. You think he might just leave you there to get his stuff and go back to wherever he wants to go, but he sits in the chair across from you. You still don’t look at him.

“I also missed you a lot,” he admits, quietly, as if he doesn’t want to say it where it can be heard. “I didn’t really want to. But. Obviously, those emotions don’t just go away…”

You simply nod, not knowing the right way to respond to that. 

“You still wear your ring,” he says it flatly, like it’s an insignificant observation. You can’t tell whether he’s surprised at it or judging you for it, for whatever ridiculous reason.

“Did you not want me to?” you say, irritated. “We are still married. And I don’t need the people at work asking questions.”

He nods as if he’s just understood something and the realization of it has made him even more displeased. “Right, of course, it’s all about looking good. Maintaining the lie, right?”

“It’s not about that,” you snap. “You should know that more than anyone. No one even knows I’m fucking married to you except Sharia. God forbid I don’t want to hear more bullshit from Daniel about my marriage, I guess.”

Lucas’s face is still for a moment, and then his eyebrows crease. “Does he still bother you?” The words leave his mouth tentatively.

“Of course he does, Yukhei. Whenever I can’t get away from him completely. He’s not just going to stop because my life has turned to shit and my husband hates me—which he doesn’t even know.”

Lucas shakes his head and sighs. “Don’t guilt trip me.”

“I’m only stating what clearly seems to be a fact now.” Then you get up from the table, weary of the conversation and even more hurt by the fact that he didn’t try to deny your statement. “Now, if you want to get your stuff, go get it. I won’t hold you up any longer. Though—you should think about preparing for a divorce if you’re really done here.” You walk out of the kitchen before waiting for his response, missing the way he stiffens in his seat.

You sit in the living room fussing over your suitcase for a long while before he decides to walk into the room. “Look...I don’t know how to feel about all this right now, but I’m not sure if that’s what I...want.”

“...What.”

“Y/N. I’m saying, I don’t think I want to...separate.”

“Then what do you want? To keep dragging me around with an empty marriage while you move on with your life? Just file the damn papers or I will.” You’re angry with him now, and a few tears slip out. You feel like you’re being thrown around at this point, and you have no clue what his intentions are. You get even more upset with yourself for crying, though there’s no reason to be.

“I don’t fucking know. Just not...this.” Lucas is deflated and maybe just as lost as you are, though you don’t want to acknowledge that while you’re still upset at his indecisiveness. He sits on the couch with you, and you’re partly surprised that he even still wants to be anywhere near you with how he was acting and talking earlier.

He seems a little shaken to see you openly crying, as if he’s never seen it happen before. Like all of this is once again new to him. Lucas puts his head in his hands, bearing a striking resemblance to the image of him doing the same thing the day you told him what happened.

You both make for a pitiful sight on the sofa like that, sitting as far from each other as possible but hurting over the same thing. Finally, Lucas takes his hands away from his face and, tentatively, as if you might shove him away, reaches for your hand. He covers it with his own, curling his fingers around yours slightly.

You stare at his hand on top of yours, bare without his ring, unsure how to react to it. You look to your side, though he doesn’t meet your eyes at first. There’s another crease between his brows.

“Just let me...figure some things out. We—we could...figure some things out, together. Before we...think about taking that step.” This response is still just shy of giving you a definite answer, but it gives you a small, painful hope that maybe things aren’t destroyed forever.

You nod, wiping some of your tears away. You’re almost afraid to take your eyes from where your hands are joined, as if you’ll discover it was just some mirage or figment of your imagination if you look away.

“Okay...we can do that. If...you want to try.”

Lucas looks at you fully now, his eyes impossibly deep with things he’s already said and has yet to say to you, and nods back—a tiny movement, but it’s there and true all the same.

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 5

Catch up here >> AHBS Masterlist

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Chapter 5 - With You

When things go wrong I pretend that the past isn't real

Now I'm trapped in this memory

And I'm left in the wake of the mistake, slow to react

So even though you're close to me

You're still so distant and I can't bring you back

"What the fuck is that?"

He was sitting at the breakfast table doing homework, after he had completed his chores when his aunt and Perrington had walked through the front door. Wearing one of the only t-shirts he owned and a pair of shorts, he sighed before looking up at his aunt.

"What is what?" he said, running his hand through his hair. Though, he knew what she was talking about. Why hadn't he kept his hoodie on? Not that that would have helped, the drawings covered his hand too.

She grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled on it. Lorcan let out a hiss. "What bullshit is all over your cast! That cost good money-" she froze. Understanding dawned on her face, eyebrows shooting up. "Oh. Did you find some people to pity you?" Her words dripped with poison. "You know you're worthless, right? No one could ever love you. You are a bastard born, half breed. Your own mother deserted you!"

"She died!" Lorcan yelled. That was too far and she knew it, but she didn’t stop there.

"She killed herself to get away from you, you ugly half-breed."

Lorcan never wanted to believe that. Never. Not that he was an ugly biracial kid, but that his mother killed herself. Why would she want to kill herself when she had him? Or maybe it was his fault. Maybe he drove her crazy enough to take her own life. Maybe...

Maeve just laughed smugly, cutting off Lorcan’s thoughts as she walked down the hall to her room and came back with a bottle of what looked like alcohol and a towel.

"Arm." He reluctantly held his casted arm out to her as she sat in the chair next to him. She started cleaning the metallic ink away. She wasn't gentle. He clenched his jaw and focused on his breathing.

Lorcan had to admit it was a good plan to get the people who were starting to befriend him, to turn their backs instead. Yet another way to break him down. They weren’t friends anyway, why would they care that their mark on him was gone.

The whole time Maeve was scrubbing his arm, Lorcan couldn't stop thinking about how he wasn't good enough for anyone. Not for his mother and definitely not Rowan. He didn't deserve the sparkle that twinkled in those green eyes when they looked at him. Why would Rowan even look at him like that? He was an ugly, bastard born half-breed after all. Too skinny, awkwardly tall, dark olive skin, black eyes.

His vision was blurry from the tears he wouldn't let fall. He couldn't let his aunt see his weakness.

"There," Maeve cooed. "All better." She looked at him with a sick sense of joviality. "Now go to your room." The way Maeve's voice went from saccharin to steel nearly gave Lorcan whiplash. He quickly went to his room after gathering his things and gently closed the door.

Lorcan closed his eyes and tears leaked out. He wiped them away. Why was he so emotional about this? He never got this emotional about anything. Fuck, he hated Orynth.

His cast was a mess now. Some of the designs were smeared beyond recognition, others completely gone. Maeve destroyed it, like she destroys everything. Elide's trees, gone. Rowan's line doodle was smudged into a big blob, but the 'Ro' of Rowan was still faintly visible. Somehow, that made Lorcan feel worse. Why were there so many emotions he didn’t know the names of when Rowan flitted through his mind?

He dug into his sleeping bag, grabbed his journal, pulled a razor blade out of the spine, and went to the bathroom with his pajamas and razor blade. Lorcan's thoughts were a jumble of negativity, he couldn't sort through them so he just pressed the blade to his forearm, dragging through other scars, deeper than he usually did. He grit his teeth through the pain. Lorcan deserved it. He was an unloved, unwanted mixed race bastard. And he was way too fucking emotional.

After letting his blood drip in the sink until he started getting a little lightheaded, he cleaned himself up, and then changed. His torso still covered in an ever changing modern art painting. He thought that maybe Jackson Pollock would be proud to have a painting that looked like his bruises. Lorcan just huffed a laugh at his sick humor.

Back in his room, he wrote in his journal, recording the worst beating of his life and the following days. Including how stupid he was today, to let Elide's smile cause him such grief once his aunt saw the product of his stupidity.

++++

"Mom, he has a cast!" Rowan was so exasperated. He threw his arms in the air.

Rowan's mom knew he was concerned. He had told her about the bruises he saw on the black haired boy's neck.

After dinner, Rowan went up to his room, pulled out his laptop and decided to video call with the group. He just wanted to think of something besides the pain that filled those onyx eyes that were staring at him throughout lunch.

His friend's only helped a little. They were mostly talking about their homework. Elide read one of her new stories for creative writing. Rowan wanted to ask her if she had read any of Lorcan's work, but he didn't feel comfortable asking in front of everyone. So, he didn't.

---

Lorcan woke up at 5am. He checked the gauze on his arm, it hurt. There was blood staining the gauze. I guess that's what happens when you cut deeper. After redoing his bandage and making sure his blade was secured in the spine of his journal, he threw said journal in his newly repaired backpack that broke last night after he was trying to put his schoolwork away. For some reason, he just didn't feel like his journal was safe being left in the apartment anymore.

After dressing and making breakfast for the despicable adults of the house, Lorcan left for school. He left earlier than usual and decided to walk through the park that was between the apartment and the school. Lorcan's hood was down, his man bun was messy, some of his wispy hairs falling in his face, his hands were stuffed in his hoodie pocket. The rain puddles he walked through leaked into his shoes and soaked into the frayed hem of his jeans. Despite having wet feet, it was a nice morning. Except for the undefinable tightness in his chest and the pain in his arm that he tried to ignore.

Lorcan walked one of the winding paths beneath the trees and noticed that some of the greens matched the color of Rowan's eyes. He shouldn't be thinking of those types of things. Never having had a crush before, he didn't understand what and why he kept comparing things back to Rowan or how his stomach would flip when the other boy flitted through his thoughts.

From behind, he heard laughter from multiple people. He switched paths and started walking faster. The laughter was familiar and he had a feeling it was Elide's and Rowan's friend group. Today, he would do his best to avoid them.

++++

Rowan noticed Lorcan ahead of them on the path and then saw him veer away and speed up. When they were about to pass the way Lorcan had gone, he made a decision.

"Hey, I'll meet you all at school." He didn't wait for an answer or reply to the questioning. They knew he was crushing on the new kid.

Rowan was on a mission. Half jogging to catch up with the long strides of his crush, he finally caught up with him.

"Lorcan!"

Gods above, he started going faster.

"Lorcan, please." He stopped suddenly and Rowan jogged a couple paces past him and turned around.

Lorcan's expression was hard, his eyes blank. They were nothing like they had been yesterday when they were almost hopeful. Today they were dull and vacant, it gave Rowan an uneasy feeling.

"Um, hi. I just thought-"

"You thought wrong." And started his swift pace past Rowan.

"But-" Rowan sighed and just did his best to keep up with Lorcan.

He really needed to work on his cardio, he was a bit winded when they got to the school. Lorcan disappeared into the throng of high schoolers. "Fuck," breathed Rowan.

All Rowan wanted was to be friendly with Lorcan. He was sad and frustrated when someone touched his shoulder.

"I'm sure he'll come around someday," Elide said with a knowing look.

"I just.." Rowan didn't know what he was saying.

"I know. Let's go to class." Elide looped her arm through his and they set off for History of Erilea.

---

Lorcan was sent to the library again for his P.E. class. He sat in a secluded corner, hoping Elide wouldn't find him. She didn't. Thank Hellas.

Pulling out his journal, he decided to write about Rowan, about how he didn't deserve a friend in Rowan. It was strange for him to use this journal for something other than an abuse record. Although, maybe this was a different sort of torture, a personal one. He couldn't have friends, and he definitely couldn't have anything more. They would likely be moving in a month or two anyway.

But Lorcan kept going back to how it felt when Rowan had touched his hand. There were butterflies in his stomach every time he thought about it. Did he really have a crush on this guy? For his whole life, he has done his best to keep the world out and now, somehow his walls were cracking. He was desperately trying to fill those cracks back in, he couldn't break now. He wouldn’t let his walls fall for some pretty boy.

The bell rang for lunch, he was starving, but he wanted to be alone in the quiet. He decided to eat quickly and then come back.

That didn't work out so well.

After sitting at the empty table in the corner and shoving food in his face, the silver haired boy sat across from him. He didn't say anything, he just ate. Lorcan just stared at him, food half raised to his mouth. Realizing Rowan wasn't going to say anything, he continued to eat.

His food was gone and now he didn't really want to go back to the library. Somehow it was comfortable sitting here with Rowan, so he just got out some of his homework instead. It really would be best to go back to the library.

++++

Yes! It was working!

Elide had suggested to Rowan that maybe he should sit with Lorcan at lunch and just be quiet. So he did and Lorcan didn't snap or run away. It was progress!

Rowan felt elated at this, especially when it looked like Lorcan was going to leave, then decided to stay. He did his best to hide his smile. But gods above, he was excited. He texted Elide.

RoRo: it's working!

Ellie: That's because I'm amazing! Haha!

RoRo: omg elide

Ellie: I'm happy it's working, Rowan. I really am. :)

Rowan looked up to see Lorcan lost in thought with his pencil down his cast. It probably itched like crazy. But then, he saw it or lack of it. All the doodle marks were nearly gone. Tears pricked his eyes, and his throat tightened. Was yesterday some sort of joke? Gods, he was stupid.

RoRo: he cleaned his cast off…

Ellie: What? Seriously?

He couldn't sit there anymore. Rowan angrily grabbed his stuff and went back to his usual table with his friends. He just hoped that Lorcan didn't see the tears that fell down his cheeks. It was embarrassing how emotional he could be sometimes.

Fen saw Rowan coming over, he was wiping his face, "You're sure he cleaned his cast off? I didn't even know you could do that without compromising its durability."

"There's smudged Sharpie over the part I could see," he said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

Everyone frowned. Aelin threw her arms around him. "He's just an asshole."

---

Lorcan had wondered how long it would take for Rowan to get fed up with him and leave. But he wasn't expecting to see him crying as he left.

He felt like shit. Looking at the exposed cast, he saw Rowan's faded and smudged doodle. Fucking Hellas. This day has turned to complete and utter shit and needed to end.

Thankfully, the rest of the day went by quickly. Elide had ignored him in creative writing. Obviously, Rowan had told everyone. This was probably for the best anyway.

____

Thanks for reading! Let know you would like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Time Will Tell: Part Three

note: this is for @peppermintschnappss , who requested a part three (read part ONE and TWO here) so here we go, enjoy :)

words: 3k

warnings: swearing, smut

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty of the accused charges.“

Hearing the verdict felt like the biggest weight had just dropped off your shoulders, you were so relieved that you could barely make out the judge dismissing the court over the sound of your pulse hammering in your ears.

You had just won your first case for your new employer, it had been the first client you had dealt with all on your own, a case of alleged tax fraud, and you had nailed it.

With a big smile on your face, you quickly congratulated your client and, after a short talk with the prosecutor, made your way out of the courtroom, a spring in your step.

Just before you reached the door, the sound of a familiar voice behind you made you stop in your tracks.

“You did it, champ.”

Turning around, you came face to face with your colleague, but more importantly, boyfriend, Chris.

You were surprised to see him, and immediately threw your hands around his neck to kiss him, not caring about the fact that you were technically still in the court room.

“Chris, what are you doing here? Did you watch the trial?” You asked after breaking the kiss.

“Of course I did. It was your first one for the firm, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Actually, I’m here to pick you up. We’re celebrating.”

+++

“You did this all by yourself?”

You took in the living room of Chris apartment with wide eyes. He had put up a beautiful dinner table, and there was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

“You’re such a sap.” You said, a bit choked up. „Thank you so much, baby. “

“Only for you, superstar.” Chris replied, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body to his. He was warm and solid, and when his hands wandered down to squeeze your ass, dinner wasn’t your top priority anymore.

"Do you think we can maybe re-heat the food later?” You gasped against Chris lips, pulling his shirt out of his trousers to run your hands over his abs.

“Fuck, yes.” he murmured, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bedroom.

+++

“Oooh here she comes, trying for the outside jump.” Chris exclaimed, before bursting out laughing as you totally missed the hoop.

“Sweetheart, I‘m so sorry, but that was pathetic.”

You flipped him the bird, running to collect the ball and throwing it at Chris with all the force you could manage. He effortlessly caught it and shot it through the hoop like it was nothing.

“Show-off.” you murmured, sitting down on the bench on the side of the basketball court. You were done, Chris had tried to teach you his favorite game for hours now, but you didn’t manage to make any progress. You just weren’t cut out for ball sports.

“Don’t beat yourself up, baby. It took me forever when I first started playing.” Chris said, slumping down next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull your close.

“Stop it, im gross and sweaty.” You giggled, trying to push him away, but he just laughed and pressed a kiss to your head. His laugh was your favorite sound in the world, so you stopped wriggling and leaned against his shoulder.

“Who taught you to play like that anyway?” you asked, looking up and noticing a far away look on Chris‘ face.

“My dad did.” He said, his voice oddly quiet now. “It was our favorite activity when I was a teenager.” He paused for a moment, and you decided to wait and let him speak. “For a long time, it basically was our only one. You know, with him being governor and everything, he wasn’t around a lot, or had any free time.”

“I’m sorry, Chris.” you whispered.

“It’s alright.” He dismissed you, still sounding a bit strained. “My big brother stepped up for a lot of stuff, you know. Homework, making sure I didn’t get in trouble, he even helped me with my college applications and everything. He’s an ass most off the time, but I still love him, and I’m grateful for everything he has done for me.” He chuckled. “But he can’t play basketball for shit.”

“Sounds like he and I have something in common then.” You noted, trying not to sound awkward. The topic of Chris’ family was still foreign terrain, you hadn’t met them yet, and had decided to give Chris space and wait for him to bring it up himself. You were also slightly nervous, because there was no way Chris hadn’t told them about you, his college nemesis.

Deciding to change the topic and cheer your boyfriend up, you picked up the ball again.

“Do you still have enough energy for another round, Cuomo?” You asked smugly. “If you’d rather go home and take a nap, just say so, would be totally fine.”

Chris laughed, and snatched the ball right out of your hands with ease. You were happy to see him lighten up.

“Please, as if playing against you would require any energy.”

+++

The topic of Chris childhood didn’t come up for another few weeks, you had noticed that he avoided talking about it and were wise enough not to pressure him.

Everything was going fine until Chris lost a big case for a very high-end client. The man had clearly been guilty, and not even your boyfriend had been able to get him out, despite his talent as an attorney.

It was the talk off the whole firm the next day, Chris hadn’t lost a case in ages, and never such an important one. He had been on edge ever since the trial, but it was what happened in the morning meeting that made him snap.

The reason was Smith, another associate and Chris’ number one opponent for the spot of the next junior partner of the firm. You hated the guy, he was vile and clearly only in it for the money. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and started to attack Chris during the morning meeting.

“Great job you did yesterday, Cuomo.” he snarled, his voice sounding through the whole conference room. “I wonder how many clients your incompetence will cost us. People are already talking.”

You could feel Chris going rigid beside you and carefully put your hand on his back in an attempt to calm him.

“Don’t let him get to you.” You whispered “He wants to rile you up.”

When the man continued to speak, you could see Chris’ jaw going tense, which was never a good sign.

“Seriously, boss, Cuomo is a basket case, how is he still working for us after that fuck-up? Oh, wait, I know it, I’m sure daddy pulled some strings for his little boy.”

You couldn’t prevent what was happening next. Chris surged forward with a angry growl, already taking a swing at the guy.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” he hissed, backing Smith up against a wall. He was considerably larger, and the fearful expression on the guys face paired with Chris raised fist made chaos break loose as multiple people were trying to get him away from the smaller man.

“Gentlemen, stop this!” your boss thundered over the agitated voices of your fellow coworkers “Smith, see me right away. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior. Cuomo, take a walk and then get to work. Come to my office after you’re done tonight.”

Chris gave Smith another deadly stare before storming out of the room. You shot your boss an anxious glance, but he just nodded, signalling you to go after Chris.

You hastily followed your boyfriend, only to see him disappear into his office at the end of the hallway. Carefully, you approached the closed door and entered without knocking.

Chris was slumped in his chair, face buried in his hands. Seeing him like this made you want to go back and punch Smith in his stupid face.

“Hey.” you whispered, gently reaching out to put your hand on Chris shoulder.

He raised his head, and the look of fury and sadness in his eyes almost broke your heart.

"Fuck, I should not have lost control like this back in there.” he said “But this guy has been testing me for so long now, always with the same bullshit.”

He got up from his chair and started pacing around the small room.

“You know how often I’ve heard this crap before, Y/N? That I’m just where I am because of my family name? That my father paved the way for everything I’ve ever succeeded in?”

You swallowed, a churning feeling in your stomach. You knew exactly what he was talking about, because for years you’ve been one of the main people saying just that. You wanted to speak, but Chris interrupted you.

“Those people out there, they know nothing about me. They don’t know how it was to have a father who was absent all the time, to be constantly teased in school. To be ripped out of the life you knew to move to fucking Albany, this stupid one horse town where everyone knew your name, and go to this school full of pricks who all made fun of me and bullied me because of my family. I never asked to be in the fucking spotlight.”

By now, Chris was almost screaming, and there was a kind of emotion in his voice you’ve never heard before, he sounded desperate and sad in a way that made tears well up in your eyes.

“Still, I worked my ass off in that stupid school, and I got into Yale. Only for people to say the exact same shit about me again, and this drags through my whole life, Y/N. I can never get rid of this, I avoided politics and tried to do my own thing here, but everything I’ll ever be to people is the son of the fucking governor, who in their eyes, never worked a day in his life.”

You were frozen to your spot, just watching Chris through a veil of tears. Guilt and dread were clawing in your stomach, it had never occurred to you that all the things you said in the past had not only been far from the thruth, but had also hurt Chris so profoundly. He had always seemed so cool and unfazed during your arguments.

“Chris.” You began. “You’re more to me. You’re a brilliant attorney, the boss has talked about how great you are at the job the second I arrived here and hasn’t stopped since. Smith is jealous because he knows he’ll never reach your level, not as a lawyer and much less as a person. You are kind, and the most intelligent and dedicated man I know. You’re everything I always thought you weren‘t, and that I am one of the people who hurt you this way makes me sick. I cant even begin to tell you how sorry I am for being so shallow.”

You were crying now, tears rolling down your face. Chris looked devastated, hurrying to you to pull you into a tight embrace.

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago, baby. You’ve been my rock ever since we’ve met again, and that makes up for every silly row we had in college.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, and you sighted, nuzzling your face into his chest, your tears soaking into his dress shirt.

“You probably have to change this.” You whispered, tugging on a wet patch on the fabric.

“I have a spare one in here, don’t worry.” Chris replied, taking your face into his hands to kiss you deeply. “We’re not the people we used to be, Y/N. Don’t beat yourself up, and I’ll try to do the same, promise.”

+++

Soon afterwards, you had to leave to meet up with a client for your current case. You had been running around the whole day without a break, and without hearing anything from Chris.

It was almost eight by now, and you were starting to get worried. Pacing your living room, you were anxiously waiting for Chris to arrive. He had told you to not wait up at the firm but promised to come to your apartment as soon as his talk with the boss was over.

The sign of the bell made you spin around and run to your door, yanking it open. Chris was standing outside your apartment, and the big smile on his face erased your anxiety in a heartbeat.

“You’re looking at a freshly promoted junior partner, sweetheart.” He grinned, and whatever he wanted to say next was interrupted by you throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck with a squeal.

“Oh my god, baby, congratulations.” You exclaimed, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Tell me everything!”

Chris followed you into your flat, discarding his suit jacket and letting himself fall onto your couch.

“I still haven’t fully realized what happened.” He began. “I was sure the boss would kick my ass for the way I behaved this morning, maybe even suspend me for a while. But he just told me off really quickly, and then he started talking about how that case I lost was impossible to win anyway, and how good my work has been for the past years. And then he offered me the junior partner position, just like that. I accepted of course.”

He smiled, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I can’t wait to rub that into Smiths stupid face. One of the paralegals told me he got a big ass whooping by the boss after the meeting this morning.”

"Serves him right, that little asshole.” You replied, before leaning over to kiss Chris again. “I’m so proud of you, you deserve this like no one else. Now that I think about it, how does champagne sound?”

“Wow, so were going to be fancy tonight?” Chris chuckled.

“If you becoming a junior partner doesn’t call for champagne, what does?” you responded, getting up to fetch the drinks from the kitchen.

You handed Chris a glass and clinked your own against his. “To you, Mr. Big Shot lawyer.”

The champagne sent a pleasant, fuzzy feeling through your stomach, and you let your eyes fall on your boyfriend, taking in how good he was looking in the warm light of the room.

“You know, I always had a thing for attorneys.” You murmured, setting down your glass to put your hands on Chris chest.

Chris laughed, and set his glass aside as well, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Is that so, huh? Well today is your lucky day then, I just got promoted and I’m in the mood to celebrate.”

His hot breath sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head, exposing your neck to Chris, who instantly started kissing and sucking the smooth skin. You moaned softly and started to unbutton Chris shirt with shaking fingers.

“Bedroom?” he asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, taking his hand to pull him to the other room. Both of you quickly shed your clothes before you dropped to your knees in front of Chris, closing your lips around his already hard cock.

“Jesus, Y/N.” he murmured, stroking your hair as you fully took him into your mouth. “So perfect, baby.”

You wrapped you hand around the base of his length, stroking him while moving your head up and down. Suddenly, Chris hand grabbed your hair and softly pushed you away.

“If you keep it up like that, this will be over soon, and I’m not done with you, sweetheart. Get on the bed, baby.”

You quickly complied, laying down on the duvet and looking up at Chris expectantly.

He climbed on top of you and started stroking your inner thighs with his fingers, softly nudging your legs apart.

“I bet youre already wet for me, baby.” He murmured, voice smooth and dark as his fingers dipped between your legs. “I knew it.”

“Chris.” You whined at the feeling of his fingers brushing over your clit. “Fuck me, please.”

“Patience, baby.” Chris replied and continued to tease you, softly circling your bud with increasing pressure until you were sobbing, legs shaking as you fell apart under his touch.

While you were still riding out your climax, Chris slid between your legs and pushed into you. You cried out as he started to move, you were still so sensitive that you could feel yourself already approaching the next orgasm.

“Shit, baby, you’re tight, I’m not gonna last.” Chris grunted, his thrusts were already getting more erratic.

“Let go, baby.” You whispered, your voice breaking as you reached your peak again, pulling Chris with you this time.

+++

Afterwards, you laid next to each other, Chris arm loosely slung around you as you played with a lock of his hair. His blue eyes found yours, and you had to smile, your heart fluttering when he smiled back at you.

“It’s funny.” Chris suddenly said, “So many things happened today, but the only thing I care about right now is that you’re here with me.”

He propped himself up on his elbow to properly look at you.

“I would’ve never thought that this” he gestured between the two of you “could happen.”

“Not in a thousand years.” You agreed, laughing softly.

Chris face got serious, and he reached out to softly stroke your cheek.

“If you want, I’d like to introduce you to my family this weekend, Y/N. You know that I’m a private person and talking about emotions isn’t exactly my strong suit. But you make me really happy, and I want everyone to know.”

“I’d love to meet them.” You whispered, and the smile that took over Chris face made you forget your nervousness.

Everything would be fine.

[jadepetals]

so this is part 1 of the fics that i've read and have stayed with me for a looong time, hope they make you feel the same way.

once upon a dream / 33319 words

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

bloodsport / 40283 words

American Football AU

Louis Lucas /  67999 words

Louis is a pornstar with more issues than he can drink away. Harry is a bisexual singer/songwriter who is desperate to be signed to a major label. Zayn and Liam are Louis's long-suffering best friends (who also happen to be pornstars, and also happen to be dating each other). Niall just wants to play his guitar. 

To the Ends of the Earth / 68488

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

Dreaming of you / 68793 words

The Begrudging Starbucks AU.

This Wicked Game / 70010 words

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

don’t tell the gods (we left a mess) / 71556 words

After a misunderstanding with Liam’s mother, Louis agrees to accompany his best friend to a family wedding and pretend to be the world’s best boyfriend. But their simple plan goes awry when he learns that Harry, ex-boyfriend/ex-love of Louis’ life, will also be in attendance.

Here In The Afterglow / 88649 words

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

Paint Me In A Million Dreams / 112805 words

Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose / 112853 words

American Uni Au.

Fucking Animals /  116687 words

Louis is the frontman of an equal rights-movement, author of a book about beta-omega marriage and the struggles of being born and boxed into a personality you don't necessarily feel you fit. The notion that an omega must want to be with an alpha or else he or she's just settling for less, is bullshit.

For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December) / 128451 words

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

red hands / 132787 words

harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird / 134891 words

Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

falling into you / 143157 words

In the grand scheme of adolescence and boyhood, Harry was still working himself out, so far with little luck. But four things he could say for certain: 1) he'd been at the top of his class all through primary and secondary school, 2) he was the shittiest alpha to ever walk the earth, 3) Liam Payne never let him forget it, and 4) he’d been in love with this boy, Louis Tomlinson, ever since he was fifteen years old.

Own the Scars / 144707 words

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

You are the blood / 175151 words

A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

Cold Little Heart / 194589 words 

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham

Louis really could use the help.

Collison / 226109 words

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth / 290696 words

When Louis moves into the flat next to Harry's, neither of them thinks it will change their lives. Louis is stuck in a relationship with his controlling and overly possessive boyfriend who he loves too much to break up with. Harry is content, seeking refuge from the snobby world he grew up in and forging a new path for himself. He does happen to have a habit of wanting to fix people though and when he meets Louis, the gorgeous man with a prat of a boyfriend, he finds himself trying to do just that. While Harry tries to avoid getting tangled in a messy situation, Louis tries to deny that there's a niggling voice in the back of his head that prefers Harry to his own boyfriend. While both determinedly refuse to let change come, they fail to notice that exact force wrapping around them and pulling them tighter together until there just might be no escape from the feelings brewing within.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

[agathaharknes]

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Drop: Chris (BTHB: Wrapped in Blankets)

Prompt fill for @badthingshappenbingo : Bundled Up in Blankets, requested by @scorpiowhump for Chris. 

CW: Trauma recovery, referenced pet whump and institutionalized/legal slavery. Referenced negative/self-injury stimming including head banging.

Direct sequel to This Isn’t Hypothetical for Chris.

“I, I’ll just drop the class. That’s, that’s, that-that’s what I’ll do, just drop the, um, the the class, Jake, is all-”

“Bullshit. Making you drop a class because you were right is fucking bullshit.” Laken sits back, frowning, and Chris’s eyes skip to the side, away from the sparking, crackling fury there. Their fingertips brush over the bandage they’ve applied to the side of Chris’s forehead, and he winces at the sting. “Sorry. You were hitting your head again, weren’t you?”

Chris lets his eyes roll up towards the ceiling, chin tipping with the motion, and he doesn’t answer the question. He only pulls the pale blue weighted blanket that Laken gave him for his birthday around himself tightly. With its heavy soft warmth, he feels less like he’ll float away, or crack apart into a thousand puzzle pieces. 

“Chris,” Laken says, soft but insistent, taking his hands in theirs, holding his long, cold fingers in their warmer, smaller hands. “You can’t keep doing that. You’ve been banging your head all week since it happened. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Chris’s fingers twitch in their grip, but he doesn’t answer them. He can’t, can’t think of how to explain the noise inside his head, the jangling off-key sound of his thoughts, the way every bit of light overwhelms him, all the sounds of people shouting and laughing and talking and not being like him makes it build and build until there’s nowhere else for it to go.

There are dark places, quiet places, but he can’t be in them all the time, and the cold light inside of Chris needs somewhere to go. 

“Al, already did,” He finally says, with a slight smile. “That’s why the, the the-the bandage, right?” They don’t return the expression, only shake their head, a bit of thick wavy black hair falling over one of their eyes, and rub at his shoulders and arms through the blanket. 

He reaches up, lets his fingers run over the short undercut they wear along the side of their head, the way it feels soft like fur under his fingertips, rougher when he runs back the wrong way. He hums, and Laken only watches him, worry in their eyes. It’s familiar, reminds him of someone, but he can’t think of who.

Baby, you’ll get a concussion that way, we have to redirect, okay?

Who told him that? Who taught him to redirect? Do they know he keeps forgetting and has to learn it all over again? Would they be disappointed in them, if they knew?

Something tells him it doesn’t work that way, not with the shadowy memory-voice he hears sometimes, whoever it was had the brush of hair over his cheek, whoever held him when he couldn’t stop screaming. 

“You’re past the drop date for this class,” Jake says heavily. He’s sitting on the couch, leaning over the paperwork Chris brought back from his meeting with the grad student and the professor officially overseeing the class. The grad student’s written summary doesn’t match what Chris said, but even more than that, it doesn’t match Chris. Chris doesn’t have violent outbursts, and he certainly doesn’t have violent outbursts without provocation. Chris isn’t someone who starts yelling over nothing, he’s just… not the person they’re saying he is, at all. It’s a piece of creative writing masquerading as an incident report. “If you drop now, you fail, full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, your GPA will take a hit-”

“I don’t, don’t, don’t-don’t-don’t care.” Chris shakes his head, just to feel his hair move against his skin. “I… I have to, to drop, anyway. He… he said, he, um-”

“What?” Laken leans forward, until their forehead just touches Chris’s, careful to avoid the injured spot, the sensitive bruised skin under the adhesive pull of the bandage. “What did he say, Chris?”

“I said us,” Chris whispers. “When I talked about, about… pets. Instead of them. He knows.”

There’s a silence that draws out, in the living room. The sound of Jake shuffling papers around, and of Laken’s calm, steady breathing. “There’s nothing in here about that,” Jake says in a low voice. “I didn’t see-... I’ve read this stupid fucking essay that asshole wrote like three times-”

“He didn’t write it, it down.” Chris tightens his grip around Laken’s fingers, but his own aren’t warming up to match theirs. “He told me after the, the professor left that he heard it. Which means-”

“He could report you.” Jake sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. Chris feels suddenly very, very small. “Per-fucking-fect. Did he say what he intends to do with this information?”

Chris swallows. “Nothing.” 

Laken and Jake exchange a look that Chris can’t read, he’s not good at reading the looks where people have whole conversations without actually saying anything. He looks up between them, one to the other, wondering what they are saying about him without speaking.

“So… if he’s not going to do anything-”

“He won’t say anything to, to, to anyone,” Chris says, softly, “as long as… as I drop the class.”

There’s a beat of quiet again, and another conversation held in silence that Chris can’t follow, only feel its weight, and then Jake clears his throat. “Chris, did he really-”

“Yeah. He really.” Chris shakes his head, pulling away from Laken’s grip, sitting back in the armchair. His right hand traces over the sleeve of his compression shirt on his left, and he taps against the back of his hand. He has no tears left. “He doesn’t want to… to get charged with, with corrupting influence if, if, if-if I get picked up. He said he, he doesn’t… doesn’t want to, to, to-to teach… pets.”

“This is bullshit,” Laken says again. “You’re not a fucking pet anymore. They can’t-”

“Take the fail,” Jake interrupts, and Laken spins in their chair to look at him, but Jake is staring down at the papers. “It’s fine. You can take an extra class later to fix a little of what it’s going to do to your grades. Just take the fail.”

“Jake, you’re not fucking serious-”

“Yeah, Laken, I am.” Jake’s anger is usually worn openly, but now it’s tightly coiled inside of him. Chris can feel it underneath the air in the room. Once upon a time, every hint of safety he could hope for was based on how well he could read the anger in the handlers or his Sir before it came down on his head. Most of it is gone, but… but in these moments, his skin prickles, the hair on the back of his neck wants to stand up.

Danger. Run. Danger. Hide. Danger. Be still. Danger. Be good.

“This asshole can’t force Chris to-”

“That asshole can call Chris in, report him, report us. They charge people like me, and they charge people who know and don’t report, like him. I get it. I get it, but I fucking hate it.” Jake sits very still, and then he’s up and off the couch and Chris flinches instinctively back as Jake balls up the paper with the grad student’s report on it and throws it violently at the wall. “Fuck!”

The little ball of paper bounces harmlessly off and hits the floor.

“That is singularly un-fucking-satisfying,” Jake says, staring at it. Laken and Chris only stare at him, Laken with the same anger in their eyes that Jake feels, and Chris with an old, barely-concealed fear. 

There’s a beat of silence before Jake speaks again. His voice is back to calm, but there’s an edge to it that gives him away, no matter how even-keeled he is trying to keep himself. 

“If those are his terms, we take it. We can’t risk safety to prove a point, to be right. Understand? It… it sucks, and I’d give my right fucking arm for ten minutes alone with that dick with no consequences, but… but this is still an out. He’s still giving us a way he won’t report. If he’s giving me a way to keep Chris and my rescues safe, I have to take it.”

“But… that’s-”

“Bullshit?” Jake twists a wry smile. “You bet your ass it is. But that’s-... that’s lib life, isn’t it? Just wading through waist-deep bullshit trying to give people the life they deserved after their real lives were fucking stolen, and the whole time I’m building up the fucking fort, these assholes - from dickbrain grad students right up to the goddamn Senate - are taking bricks out from the bottom hoping it’ll collapse and I can’t-... I can’t risk it, just to fight this, Laken. I have to think about everyone, not just Chris, but also… I have to think about Chris. Winning this battle could cost him. I want to - I want to fight this - but if we do…”

“That dumbass gets Chris in trouble,” Laken says, and groans. “Which means cops, and jail, and worse. Christ, Jake, do you think he just doesn’t want Chris in his class and this is a way to make it happen so nobody will fight it?”

Jake takes in a breath, lets it out. “Maybe. His worry could be legitimate, though.”

“Or he could just not want to face how fucked up this is,” Laken points out. “But he’s got us fucked both ways from Sunday for sure. We’re boxed in, no matter what we do.”

“Don’t say, say box,” Chris whispers, a shudder racing through him.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Jake paces, walking from one end of the living room to the other and back again. On TV, a cartoon about a spy is playing, but none of them is paying any attention to it. It’s just background noise to the conversation none of them wants to be having. “He could report Chris anyway, honestly. He doesn’t have to keep this promise. And if he does-”

“WRU will, will, will take me back,” Chris says, pulling his blanket as close as he can as though he could hide within it, and the tremble in his voice catches Laken and Jake’s attention again. The two turn to look at him, and Laken leans back forward, hands on either side of his face. Their hands, pale palms with warm brown skin, nails painted thick matte black, are warm and dry, and Chris lifts his own to cover them, closing his eyes. 

“They won’t,” Laken says, with fierce and total conviction. “They won’t. Never, ever. Now that I know, I’d-... Chris, I’d never let them. I have… my family knows people, we could get you somewhere else.” They lean forward, and he feels the warmth of them just before their lips touch his, and he answers the kiss. The throb of fear and anger inside him fades, a little, under the strength of their need to be here for him, even when he is difficult, even when he can’t stop hurting himself, even when he says us instead of them.

“I can’t believe he would rather turn Chris in than teach him,” Laken says, after a second’s pause. “I thought-... you know, the grad students aren’t that much older than we are, and people don’t think about it the way they used to. I just… I just thought-”

“I know. I used to think that, too. But.” Jake sighs, and moves to pick up the little crumpled ball of paper. “Maybe lighting this on fire would make me feel better?”

“Doubt it.” Laken pulls Chris’s head against their shoulder, the denim of their black jean jacket scratchy but still soft with wear and age, and he hums, rocking into them lightly, as their arms slide up and around behind his neck to hold him. “You’re okay, Chris. One failed class is nothing. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure this out.”

“Maybe I should, should, should drop out. Give up on, um, on college.”

“Absolutely not,” Laken says, at the same time Jake says, “No fucking way.” 

“You’ve worked too hard for this,” Jake says after a pause. “You spent years working to relearn how to read so you could start studying for your GED and get a good score, you were so excited for this. This is just one bump in the road, this isn’t a dead end, I swear. We’re not giving up, Chris.”

“But-”

“We’ll tell him you’ll drop the class. He’ll keep it quiet, and you can go right back to normal. Nobody has to know but us.” Laken’s voice is low, and Chris wants to trust them, wants to believe. 

“We’ll figure it out. One failed class won’t wreck you, Chris.” 

Jake sits on the arm of the chair Chris is in, and slides an arm around his shoulders behind him, over the blanket. Laken is warm in front of him and Jake is warm beside him, and Chris hums again, but lower-pitched this time. The two of them are the soft, soothing darkness that holds back the white light.

“I just-” Chris lets the words die in his throat, and taps on his own stomach while Laken and Jake hold him, tears hot behind his eyelids that he refuses to let escape. He’s so tired of crying, he’s so tired of it being hard, he’s so tired of something unsettling his world every time he thinks there won’t be any more earthquakes.

Brick by brick, Chris is building a life - and the time he spent on his knees and on his back comes back to haunt him, whenever he lets himself relax. Whenever he feels safe. Whenever he thinks it won’t haunt him any longer.

“We’re not giving up on you,” Laken murmurs. “Don’t you give up now, either.”

--

Tagging: @burtlederp​, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump​, @whumpfigure​, @slaintetowhump​, @astrobly​, @newandfiguringitout​, @doveotions​, @pretty-face-breaker​, @boxboysandotherwhump​, @oops-its-whump​ @moose-teeth, @cubeswhump​

[ladynestaarcheron]

Invisible String - Chapter One

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

back on my bullshit, y’all! got a new multi-chap. here’s a summary:

There's no love lost between Nesta Archeron and the Cauldron. It stole life from her, so she stole Death from it. But not long after the war, Nesta realizes it gave her something, too: a mate.

Nesta knows any gift the Cauldron gives her is only for the worst, and it doesn't take very much to see how, so she does her best to keep it to herself. When someone's truth magic reveals her secret, and a number of relationships pay the price, Nesta knows what she has to do: destroy the mating bond.

On her journey to new lands, Nesta learns her own soul and discovers how her fate is decided, and whether love works into that equation at all.

and without further ado here’s chapter one!

---

It is, like most things, not Nesta's fault when her mating secret gets out.

People mock her for that, she knows. Roll their eyes. She knows they think her childish, that she's not taking responsibility for her actions. But she rarely acts at all; perfectly content to sit quietly on an armchair by herself, reading a book. It's the whole rest of the world that seems determined to keep her from peace.

When she feels it dawn upon her, like a sort of snap in her soul, she innately knows something is wrong. It's not something she wants. Not that it's something she wants but doesn't think she deserves, not something she wants but not right now, just something she does not want.

First of all, the idea sickens her. Especially when she looks at Feyre. Her soul tied to another, whether she likes it or not. It's not equal, despite what her sister thinks. It can't be equal, not when there's centuries'-perhaps millenia's-worth of bloody history, of male violence and aggression. Playing into that makes her want to vomit.

Second, this is not her choice, as Feyre now loves to say. This is that thing's choice-the Cauldron. And obviously, something that hated Nesta as much as the Cauldron did doesn't want anything good for her. So it has to be the wrong choice.

And she knows it with every pulse of blood, every link of bone. He is wrong for her. It's to punish her; that's why the Cauldron did it. It looked and saw what would hurt her the most, hurt her loved ones the most. And forced him upon her.

Well. She's not going to have any hand in it. And she's kept that up for months, with not so much as a word to anyone, and avoiding him at all costs, so there's no chance of him confronting her about it, in case he suddenly changes his mind.

But Elain's got some ridiculous dinner planned, and she can't afford to risk hurting her anymore than she already has, so she goes. And he's there-they're all there.

Nesta sits by Elain, with their backs to the open window. Cassian is on the other end of the table, but he is pointedly looking anywhere but her. Especially at Mor, right next to him.

Fine. That's just fine. She doesn't care.

"This is delicious, Elain," Rhys says to her, and she beams at him, taking the dish and passing it to Azriel on her other side.

They compliment her in turn, more gentle than Nesta normally sees them. Even Amren. She knows Feyre, switching between gazing lovingly at Elain and surveying all of them from the head of the table with narrowed eyes, has something to do with it. While Nesta thinks she herself can never be too vigilant with Elain's feelings in her-er-fragile state, she's not sure she trusts Feyre to handle the situation properly.

As she tilts her head back to drink from the glass of wine she's poured herself, the gust of wind that blows in through the back window teases a strand out of her braid, and she knows she's right not to. Because Feyre stiffens, looks at her, and says, "What's that in your hair?"

Everyone turns to Nesta, and it's all she can do to keep her face from burning. "It's called a coronet," she says through gritted teeth, knowing full well that's not what Feyre means.

"No. That smell."

"Vanilla scented soap," she says coldly.

Feyre's mouth parts open a little. "Are you...mated?"

"Of course not," she snaps.

Nesta keeps her eyes determinedly away from them all-from their wide eyes, white faces. What right do they have, anyway?

Another slight breeze strengthens Nesta's scent in the room-and they can smell it on her. Smell him. And this ridiculous...this unwanted...bond.

"It's Az." Cassian's voice is flat, hollow, seems to echo in the otherwise silent room as they all register what he said.

Nesta doesn't entertain their silence. "Of course it is not," she says forcefully.

Morrigan lets out a small gasp. "It is," she says, voice catching.

Nesta swears inwardly. Her stupid truth magic. She had forgotten.

There's nowhere to look now. Not at either of her sister's faces-one desperately trying to catch her eye, one staring at her lap, unmoving; not at Rhysand and Amren looking at each other; not at Morrigan, whose eyes are flickering between her and Azriel; not Azriel himself, for she has never wanted anything to do with him and she will not start now; and most of all, not at Cassian.

In a most unbecoming display, Nesta, hands curled against the table, shoves herself backwards-Feyre flinches at the sound of the chair scraping against the floor-launches herself up, and, seething, sweeps violently out of the room.

She can barely see, for all the anger burning her vision. Can't hear, either, for the roar in her ears, but she knows her sister well enough not to be taken by surprise when she leaps out in front of her.

"Nesta!" Feyre cries. "I'm so sorry-I had no idea-I'm sorry, I-"

"When are you going to learn," she hisses, "not to intervene in matters that do not concern you?"

Feyre's eyes shine silver-this she did not expect. "I'm sorry-I thought-I thought-"

"I know what you thought."

"I'm sorry," she repeats miserably.

Nesta doesn't reply. What is she supposed to say to Elain now? She probably won't show any anger; just retreat even further into herself. Wonderful.

"And Elain..." Feyre says. "Oh, this is all my fault, Nesta!"

"I know that," she snaps.

"I just thought..."

"I'm not interested in hearing your excuses." Her voice is a particular sort of harsh she never uses with her sister.

But Feyre, to her credit, does not flinch. She only closes her mouth, nods once, and says, quiet, sorrowful, "You're right."

This irritates Nesta even more. She knows she's right. She doesn't need to be told. "Go home. Do not talk to Elain," she says.

"Are you going to talk to her?"

"I need to think. Go home."

"What about-?"

"Do as I say." Nesta marches past her and makes her way to her apartment. The walk normally takes longer; she's there within a quarter hour.

She rips her scarf off and throws it down. It doesn't crash, obviously, just falls limply on the floor. Not satisfying. Does little to assuage her anger at...everything.

Such rage she feels. At Feyre for ruining the façade she had built. At circumstance. At Azriel, for existing, for allowing a blossoming something to occur between him and Elain when he knew, he knew they had this stupid bond and obviously that could only ever end in one way: her sister's heartbreak.

And at Cassian. Whenever she leaves her apartment, she can feel his presence somewhere above her, tracking her. He'll find some way to corner her whenever she drags herself to Feyre's house, to irritate her or try to provoke her. How she'd hiss at him and hurl insults to get him to leave her alone. And now what is it that has stopped his incessant obsession of finding her wherever she hides? This thing that she didn't even choose. It's honestly disrespectful, above all. Irking her was his favorite pastime until now, only because she's been marked by some ancient thing.

Then she feels more anger at Azriel, because a part of her isn't angry, it's sorrowful and pitying, and then she realizes-that isn't her. That feeling inside of her own body-it isn't hers! It's his!

And it's...close.

Nesta whips around and rips open her door, some tiny bit of her hoping she is wrong about who it is.

She isn't.

"I came to see how you're doing," he says, in that low, cold voice of his. Cold enough to make her shiver. For all the wrong reasons. Perhaps it takes time to get used to, but they've barely ever spoken.

"I'm fine," she says shortly. Then, "You should not have come."

"We need to talk."

"We do not."

He doesn't offer a retort, only stares at her. If she couldn't feel his ever-present sadness, she wouldn't be able to read him at all.

"I would like to talk, please," he says finally.

Nesta locks her jaw but steps aside to let him pass. He sits down on one of her couches, wings drawn tight against his back-she does not have any of their big armchairs to accommodate them. She takes her seat across from him.

She has not been alone with him very often, but every time, she is struck anew by how it feels when they are together. It feels...like nothing at all. No, worse than nothing. Because this is a mistake. Some magnet inside of her is pulling them together...but she doesn't want it.

"I'm sorry this happened," he says. "I should have taken better precautions. I know we agreed...to keep this between us."

The one time they had spoken, he means. When they both felt the bond snap into place. She had not known what it was, how it worked. He had explained it all to her. Naturally, she had been horrified.

"So now...we're...we're just... we have to..."

"No," he had said firmly. "We don't have to do anything. The mating bond...it's always going to be there. A part of you-us. But we can just ignore it."

"We can ignore it?" Nesta asks, thinking of when she had watched her sister and her own mate, before they had gotten together. Even then Nesta had thought their connection remarkable, how they moved in sync with each other.

She'd been horrified, even without knowing any magic was involved.

"We can," he said. Hesitated. "It's...it might be...there'll always be a pull. But we don't...care for each other like that. So it shouldn't really affect you too much."

"And you?" she'd asked.

"It won't affect me either," he said forcefully.

But he had been wrong. It has affected her-and now it's ruined her.

"What other precautions would you have taken?" she asks. "Was there something we weren't doing?" For she knows they did everything they could. They kept apart, never even spoke about each other to anyone. Everything taken care of...but her meddling baby sister.

He doesn't answer, but she can feel him begrudgingly accept her words. How she loathes this-this invasive, parasitic feeling. It's not as miserable as it might be, of course, neither of them are Daemati, so they aren't constantly bombarded with each other's thoughts like Feyre and Rhysand, but his presence in her mind...his emotions...like she never has a minute to herself anymore.

And he's so cold. Every part of him is so cold. Even when he's happy-when he's listening to Elain chatter about her garden or training with Cassian or doing whatever the hell with Morrigan, whatever she does in her spare time-even then it's a detached, guarded sort of feeling.

"I wanted to tell you I understand you're upset, but there's no reason why things have to change."

Nesta looks at him sharply. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"We are still in agreement regarding our own relationship," he says evenly, "and I know...well, this doesn't have to affect any other relationships we may have."

"Did you come here for reassurance from me? Because you're not going to get any," she says, blunt.

"I believe I was reassuring you."

"You forget," Nesta says, a grim set to her face, "I know when you're lying."

He gives her a rueful smile. "So you do."

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Nesta says, "Look, Elain just needs some space. She's private. But I'll talk to her tomorrow and explain."

He doesn't answer. Why he bothers pretending like he doesn't fancy her sister around her, she doesn't quite understand.

It's not that Nesta wants him to have a relationship with Elain. It's just that she needs Elain to know that there is nothing going on between the two of them and there never has been and there never will be. She tells him as much.

"You are at perfect liberty to tell your sister anything you desire, of course," he says, but she can feel his relief.

"All right," she says, standing up. "That's settled. It'll be fine. But they'll all see we've been this way for months and nothing has happened so nothing needs to change."

"Right."

"Your coming here to speak to me is an outlier," she says. "You should tell them that."

"Would you like me to tell someone?"

Nesta clenches her fists. His tone is careful, measured, but it doesn't matter, because she knows what he's asking.

And her answer is no. Not even a little bit.

"Tell Feyre," she says, "so she doesn't get any more prying ideas."

He nods his head once. He doesn't like how she speaks of Feyre, she knows, but he doesn't say anything, which she appreciates.

Besides, she realizes, pleasantly surprised, he's not too happy with her either.

---

Nesta lets herself into Feyre's riverfront home after a trek through the gardens reveals Elain is inside. Mercifully, she makes it to her room without bumping into anyone.

Perhaps it's less mercy and more everyone is avoiding her, but no matter. She doesn't care. In fact, she prefers it this way.

"Elain?" she calls, knocking softly on her door. She opens it slowly and peeks her head in.

Her sister is lying on her bed, still in her nightthings. She stirs as Nesta sits down next to her.

"Nesta," she says sleepily.

"You're still in bed?" Perhaps her optimism from last night's conversation with Azriel is misplaced.

"No, no, I was just taking a nap."

She's...lying. Elain is lying to her.

And she's in bed at one o' clock in the afternoon.

"Oh," Nesta says. "Well. I just came to talk to you..."

"There's nothing to say," Elain says.

Nesta bites the inside of her cheek. "Yes there is. I need to tell you that Azriel and I are not in a relationship."

"Oh, Nesta-"

"And we don't ever want to be in one."

"It's none of my business, of course-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Nesta says, slightly bewildered. Elain had very much considered Nesta's two or three suitors entirely her business when they were silly human girls; why should this be any different? "But it's not real, anyway. It's a mistake."

Elain goes very still. "It's not," she says quietly.

"Of course it is."

"It is not."

Right. Because the Cauldron loved Elain. So Elain...what, worships that vile thing like everyone else here?

"I think I'm going to shower," Elain says, voice falsely bright. "Are you going to spend the day here?"

Nesta starts at the sudden dismissal. "I...no."

"Oh," Elain says, enough disappointment in her tone that anyone who doesn't know her as well as Nesta does would believe it. "Well, I'll see you soon. And please don't worry, Nesta, dear. Everything's quite all right."

With that, she hurries into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

So perhaps, Nesta muses to herself on her walk home, she was wrong about how much time she should give Elain. Perhaps tomorrow she'll be more willing to talk.

Except she isn't.

And not the next day, either, and not the whole week after.

And Cassian's not springing up around the city anymore.

It's only Feyre who talks to her, too much guilt and uncertainty in her darting eyes telling her far more than her words do when Nesta asks her would-be-casually why her Inner Circle no longer stalks various of her favorite haunts and why does she think Elain has once again taken ill and is missing their lunch.

Well. Feyre might stutter through a non-answer, but Nesta knows exactly what the matter is. And she might not know how to solve it herself, but she knows who does.

So three weeks after her secret is let out, Nesta books passage to the Spring Court.

---

Chapter Two

[tenacityreturns]

aomine and kagami have their first date ! nijimura is following them , very sneaikly, he's wearing a hat , sunglasses , fake mustache. when aomine get's up to go to the bathroom , nijimura texts kagami, " bro, why aren't you eating your food ? "

@peachmuses​

dating is so fucking awful, actually. neither of them know what to say! sometimes kagami will glance over and aomine's staring at him, but there's a frown on his face. expectant, waiting to hear why kagami's extra quiet today. waiting for an explanation that kagami himself doesn't even know the answer to! don't hold your breath, buddy! so they're at this bona fide restaurant because aomine said maji's makes for a shit first date even though kagami said that's where he wanted to go ( because it's familiar, they've been there before, and there's less of a date atmosphere - which apparently is required on a date ).

his leg bounces beneath the table. he ordered one dish, anymore and it would rack up a huge bill and he has this uncomfortable feeling that his dad really wouldn't want to cover the costs of his son's romantic life. almost certainly not where aomine is concerned. aren't dates supposed to be fun? people talk about the dating scene like it's a natural place to be in. like they want to be there.

aomine kicks him under the table to get his attention, which kagami hadn't even noticed wasn't on him. "what's wrong?" he asks confrontationally.

"what? you tell me! why are you asking that?"

"you're being weird."

"dick thing to say to your date," kagami grumbles.

shortly after a silence, aomine excuses himself to take a leak and kagami wouldn't blame him if he never comes back. he shoves his untouched plate further across the table and rests his elbows on it, one hand raised to shield his face. this is going so shit. why? why is it going so shit? there are hundreds of things to remember about dates. even jokingly delivered advice as nijimura's had ( kind of ) been, there's truth to it, right? this is so awful, though! no butterflies, no interest in conversation, and the weirdest thing of all is that he's shirking away from touch like it's poisonous. how come? as if driven by divine forces, he receives a text from nijimura who sensed a disturbance in the flatmate telepathic fields. bro, why aren't you eating your food? yeah, good question. he's too far in his head to go about the normal questioning route - how did he know, for instance! instead, he agonises over whether he was going to get into it, or keep the text reply brief and then never talk to nijimura about how he feels about aomine ever again because it's so embarrassing to admit that he fucked everything up! because he's so stupid, perhaps! eventually, he replies:

[ text: ] im the worst date ever [ text: ] i blew it man

moments later, a hand lands on his shoulder and it makes him jump. it doesn't move as he turns around. oh, it's just aomine, and... he won't make eye contact. oh, god. don't say it.

"this was a bad idea,"

oh no. "i was having fun," no he wasn't.

"no you weren't. c'mon, let's go. i paid already."

"you paid---??" they were going to split, or he expected aomine to pull his usual oops, forgot my wallet stunt! but if he leaves the restaurant, is that the last hope of the date? of any date? "where are we gonna go?"

"out, taiga. i said move your ass."

kagami's expression falls into a frown. his emotions ground him. being pissed off always does. once again, that’s a dick thing to say to your date. he grabs his jacket once slung over the back of his chair and leaves the building. aomine follows close behind, then walks beside him when outside. kagami’s fuming entirely at himself right now. he’s seconds away from blurting that he’s sorry for being so stupid, he just doesn’t know how to act and this is all really fucking stressful, when aomine dips inside a store kagami hadn’t even noticed. huh? what, fancy food isn’t good enough and he needs a dose of junk food too? surprised more than curious, kagami follows in the hopes that this was what aomine wanted too. if aomine had wanted to ditch, he would have done so already. right?

“what the fuck are you doing, man?” kagami questions.

“time will tell,” he replies infuriatingly calmly. just explain yourself! maybe this is aomine’s fault. maybe aomine radiates stupid fucking idiot energy and kagami thought he’d been attracted to him outside of basketball but he’s never met anyone like aomine before and his power, his magnetism had distracted---

“what’s that!” kagami demands as aomine picks something up off one of the shelves. 

aomine doesn’t verbally reply, he just sends him a questioning grimace. okay, so obviously it’s a cheap as shit basketball, but why the fuck is he buying one from here? this will pop in no time! 

kagami follows blindly as aomine pays for trash, and spins it on his finger as he leaves the store. it’s even a little flat. what’s the point of this? ( they still don’t notice the guy following them, who had been waiting outside the store. )

“so,” aomine begins in a casual tone, watching him out of the corner of his eye, “how long does it take your coach to get you outta your head in a game?”

“what?”

“you heard me. we’re gonna play a one-on-one.”

“why? right-- right now?”

“you’re too in your head, are you listening? your body can’t handle all this thinking you’re doing. i guess i wanna wake you up.”

“play? i-- i can’t--”

“can’t? okay, hold up,” aomine stops walking and sticks his arm out to stop kagami, too. he turns to him. it’s dark, they’re between streetlights, but his blue eyes are brighter than the moon. “did you change your mind about dating me or something?” that’s a pretty intense expression to be asking such an intimate question!

“i’m still here,” kagami replies uncomfortably.

“well i wanna date you.” aomine pokes kagami’s chest. “that place we went to was a bad idea, you shouldn’t have suggested it,” kagami’s about to defend that it wasn’t his idea, but aomine interrupts him. “look, if dating you means maji’s and basketball, like you do with everyone else, then fine. i’ll just have to deal with that. but you need to stop stressing so much. i like you, i don’t care about what we do. and if you think i’m gonna stop calling you on your bullshit just ‘cuz we’re going out then you got another thing coming.”

phew, that was quite the lecture there. kagami stares in stunned silence, mind unable to keep up with each perfectly fitting statement aomine had just delivered. maybe his problems were obvious, or kagami is just an idiot so aomine thought of the stupidest things to get stressed about and accidentally hit the nail on the head, but all of that made perfect sense. his frown dissipates, his eyes gleam with their own intensity, and aomine crumbles under the weight of it. he starts walking again. the audience would be justified in thinking the worst of this moment, but kagami doesn’t. he sees clarity and his true feelings reaffirm themselves in the form of butterflies in his stomach. kagami’s stumbling feet follow slowly at first, but his dead worries make him laugh and he runs to catch up. he slings his arm around aomine’s shoulders and pulls him in close.

“easy, tiger,” aomine fumbles to catch the basketball as it nearly shot away, but he moves it to his other hand so that the nearside one can wrap around kagami’s lower back.

“sorry about today. i was in my head too much. we can play, just don’t let your crush on me get in the way of going all out.”

“shut the hell up,” aomine retorts, but when kagami looks over, he’s smiling. the smile widens as kagami pulls him closer to kiss his cheek, even after they detach.

i like you a lot, too, goes unsaid by kagami. that much is obvious. instead, encumbered with the pent from frustration an hour of avoiding contact, he holds his hand out. aomine looks at it, raises an eyebrow, and looks quizzically at him. kagami deadpans. “give me your hand, stupid.”

“what are you gonna do to it?” who hurt him? what the hell kind of pranks led to aomine reluctantly holding his hand out, too? isn’t it also obvious what kagami wants to do?

“i’m gonna hold it?” kagami demonstrates, and in no time their fingers are interlocked between them. there’s no one about, no one but the man they still haven’t clocked behind them. and what trouble could one man cause to two huge guys like them, anyway? he suddenly remembers the sour tone of his texts to nijimura from before, and sends a quick message before they arrive at the outside court.

[ text: ] nvm :)