#i have yet to actually sit down and read a full flash run. this is just vibes based on what i've seen so far. excited to learn more

[geneticdriftwood]

the impression i've gotten of flash comics so far is that speedsters are powered by love and adhd. and also the (cosmic) horrors.

[screamingoverfiction]

Sleeping In

Fred Weasley x f!-reader. No house mentioned. 18+ smut ahead minors DNI!!

Also, I'm sorry for disappearing, I was stressed, and writer's block took its toll! Hopefully, I'll be able to do a request I have sitting in my drafts.

Word Count: 2.24k

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"Oi, George, where's your sodding twin?" Y/n shouted, throwing her hands in the air as she entered the Gryffindor common room.

"Er, I think he's still in the dorm," George replied, nodding toward the stairs. The younger twin was sitting on the couch, playing cards with a few other students, his girlfriend Angelina resting her head on his shoulder.

Y/n huffed annoyedly, mumbling incoherently as she ascended the stairs, her nostrils flaring.

She reached the twins' dorm in no time, turning the knob and stepping inside, flicking the light switch.

"Ah, fuck me," A voice cried out, which Y/n immediately recognized as Fred's.

"Rise and shine fuckface," Y/n spoke, grabbing a random jumper off the floor and chucking it at Fred, who was busy rubbing away the sleep from his eyes.

The cloth hit him directly in the face, making him reel back.

"Ow," Fred mumbled, yawning again and blinking a few times.

"You were supposed to meet me in the library an hour ago," Y/n said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to her hip.

"Shit. Did I sleep that long?" Fred said, his eyes widening. He looked at his nightstand, and the small clock read 11:23 am.

"Fuck," He mumbled, running a hand through his hair and glimpsing at Y/n, flashing her an embarrassed smile.

Y/n just rolled her eyes with a sigh, running her tongue along her cheek. She walked over to the curtains, pulling them open and letting the light shine in.

Fred cringed from the brightness, sitting up with his back against the frame, admiring her from behind, sucking in a sharp breath.

Y/n turned around, her eyes widening slightly as she saw him.

He was shirtless, his muscles on full display, wearing only his plaid pajama pants beneath the covers. His red hair was messily falling over his forehead, and his eyes were still drowsy with sleep.

She quickly looked away, her eyes focusing on everything but him, the curtains, his dresser, the wall.

After all, they were only friends.

"Get dressed and meet me in the library," Y/n said, starting to walk to the door.

As she walked by, his hand wrapped around her wrist, tugging her down on top of him.

A light gasp escaped her lips when his hands found themselves tightly grasping her hips, steadying her on his lap.

"I didn't mean to oversleep," He spoke softly, his eyes a pool of warm brown as they stared at her.

Y/n couldn't say a word, her mouth was open, but no sound came out, and her heart was beating a million miles an hour. She feared he could hear the rapidness.

"I did actually get up, brushed my teeth and everything, but then I took a...'five-minute nap.'"

"I looked like an idiot waiting for you," Y/n whispered. Her breath was shaky, full of nerves. She just now noticed her hand placement, both on either side of his neck by his collarbones, but he didn't seem to mind. Her legs straddled his waist, and the only thing separating them was the thin covers.

Fred let out a dry, breathy laugh. His eyes flickered to her lips before he lifted his gaze to hers.

Slowly, his hand raised to cup her face, his thumb gently tracing her cheek, making her inhale sharply.

His pupils were blown with what seemed to be lust and desire, and his eyes bore into hers, hesitant yet yearning.

Y/n's core burned with intense heat, her mind told her to back away, to save their friendship while she could, but her body's urge was far more powerful.

"Allow me to apologize," He said quietly, swallowing thickly as he gradually leaned forward, his hand still gently holding her face.

Y/n closed her eyes as his lips brushed against hers. With her lips trembling softly, she closed the gap.

Their lips met in a soft kiss. It was timid, slow, sensual, the calm before a raging storm.

Fred sighed against her lips, bringing his hand to the back of her head and drawing her closer, deepening their kiss.

Y/n leaned into him, her nails digging into his skin as she gripped his strong shoulder. Her other hand traveled to his jaw, holding it tightly.

A soft whimper-like gasp left her lips as Fred's free hand snaked under her shirt, his warm fingers brushing against the cool skin of her waist.

Like a bolt of lightning, desire shot through his spine from the noise. His tongue clashed with hers, and soft moans escaped their lips as the kiss dragged on.

"Fuck," Fred groaned, wanting nothing more than to rip off her clothes and ravage her completely. Hear her cry out his name as he fucked her into the mattress.

"Freddie," Y/n breathed, both of her hands now laced in his hair, lightly tugging it.

"Y/n, fuck. Can I?" Fred said, his fingers toying with the bottom of her black shirt.

She didn't hesitate to nod her head, a chorus of yeses quickly escaping her lips.

Fred lifted the fabric up and over her head, briefly disconnecting their lips.

Y/n didn't give herself time to feel ashamed, instead opting to connect their lips before he could scan her body.

Fred's fingers danced over her hips and around to her back, sliding upwards toward her bra clip.

If he died from kissing her lips, he'd die happy. There was no other taste in the world that could ever amount to her. She was the finest meal of them all.

"Can-"

"Yes, please," Her words came out in a whispering whine, a plead. She knew there was no going back to how things were, but hell, she didn't want that anymore.

Fred smiled, softly biting her bottom lip, kissing her passionately as he swiftly unclipped her bra.

He tossed it off the bed, pulling away from her lips and casting his eyes down.

If possible, his pupils expanded even more. He was so full of desire and passion that he felt he might explode.

Her body was perfect, exquisitely, and seemingly made purely for him.

Y/n could feel the shame rising on her cheeks. She felt the world slowly swallow her in the seconds before he responded.

"Bloody hell. You're so beautiful," Fred murmured, his lips attaching to her throat, kissing and biting downwards, making sure he left marks.

Y/n let out a soft gasp as he trailed further down, her head knocking back when he started on her breasts.

"Oh fuck," She whispered, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut as his lips thoroughly covered her nipples and breasts in hickeys.

"You look so fucking pretty covered in my marks," He said, smiling against her neck, kissing the sweet spot below her ear.

Y/n laced her fingers in his short red hair, breathing heavily, subconsciously rutting herself against him, searching for some sort of friction.

She hastily sat straighter, pulling the thin covers back and straddling him completely, feeling his erection through the cloth of his trousers.

Her lips found him again, and it was her turn to scatter love bites along his skin, which she did without hesitation.

Her teeth nipped and marked the skin around his throat, leaving a skillfully placed hickey just below his jaw visible to everyone.

"Making me yours, I see," Fred mumbled teasingly, his hand now drifting to her arse, head knocked back in pleasure.

"Not like you didn't do the same," She replied breathlessly, pulling back to admire her work, tracing her fingers over the various marks on his neck and jaw.

Fred smirked, taking her chin in his hand and dragging her back to his lips, kissing her deeply.

"Do I look pretty?" He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Very," Y/n answered, gasping as his hand ran over her arse, stopping at the waistband of her sweats.

"Take them off," She says before he can even ask, already assisting him in sliding them down, kicking them off and away from the bed.

Y/n's fingers hooked into the hem of his trousers. He soon helped her take them off and quickly discard them with the rest of their clothes.

Her panties were next. Fred practically ripped them off her legs, too impatient for anything else.

The cold air hit her bare pussy, and she shivered, but as soon as his warm body touched hers, her mind was clouded yet again.

She wasted no time taking off his boxers as well, the bubbling warmth in her core only growing larger when his large erection brushed against her inner thigh, teasing her.

"Do you- Do you have-" Y/n started to ask, but he cut her off.

"Top drawer to the left," Fred said quickly, an audible displeased groan leaving his lips when she pulled back.

Y/n would've rolled her eyes at his whines, but she was too wrapped up in lust to even care.

She opened the top drawer, took a condom from the box, and handed it to Fred.

He ripped it open with his teeth, spitting the plastic out and carefully sliding the latex over his aching cock.

Y/n could do nothing but stare and drool, the mere sight of him making her cunt clench in anticipation.

He was half propped on his elbow, one hand traveling to her neck, pulling her lips to his while the other held her by the hip.

Y/n kissed him deeply, aligning his cock with her entrance and slowly lowering herself onto it, breathing rapidly.

Airy moans left both their lips as he bottomed out, her tight muscles clenching around him.

The covers were hanging off her lower back, but she didn't care. There was no way in hell she would get cold.

His warm body pressed against hers as she started rocking her hips. Chest to chest, their bodies worked together, his hand on her back, pressing her further into him, her hand on his bicep, nails digging into his muscles as she moved.

"Ah- fuck, just like that, love," Fred groaned, his handsome features scrunched in pleasure.

He looked down to see where they connected, her back arching ever so slightly to take him all, her perfect pussy stretched around his cock.

He was able to hit every perfect place inside her, rutting against her g-spot, sending waves of pleasure shooting up Y/n's spine.

But oh fuck, he needed to be deeper, needed her moaning and mewling his name like it was a prayer.

So without missing a beat, he flipped their positions, her legs locking around his torso as he started thrusting.

She wrapped her arms around him, encasing him closely, their chests still touching.

"You're so good for me, angel, taking my cock so well," He grunted, breathing heavily from the sensation of her walls clenching around him.

His thrusts weren't overly rough, but they didn't need to be. He didn't want to fuck her. No, he wanted to love her, cherish her body like the temple it was, and make her cry out in intense pleasure as she came on his cock.

"Freddie," She whimpered, arching her back to meet his thrusts, each perfectly timed. Tears of euphoria welled in her eyes, starting to slowly drip and roll down her cheeks as her orgasm quickly approached.

He looked so pretty above her, eyes closed in pleasure, messy hair, the freckles dotting his pale skin shining from the droplets of sweat trickling down his body.

His forehead rested against hers, fingers digging into her waist as he chased his climax. His breathing became more labored and rapid with every passing second.

Y/n felt the knot in her stomach coiling, the bubble of heat ready to pop with just a few more thrusts.

"Fred, I'm so close," She whispered, pushing her body closer to him, back arching off the bed.

"Fuck, me too. Come for me, Y/n," He said, his warm breath tickling her neck, the sensation sending her over the edge.

Her orgasm washed over her in waves of immense pleasure, lightning in her veins, a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. Her legs shook, and her core was on fire, burning through the high as she came with his name on her tongue, crying it out.

Fred finished a few moments after, his hips sputtering as he filled the condom, his stomach burning with heat and pleasure.

The first few moments after having sex with someone new are the most pivotal. They decide if it's a one-time thing or something more.

Fred swallowed, resting his forehead against hers and sighing deeply, trying to catch his breath.

Y/n's hand wrapped around his neck, lacing in his hair. She smiled softly when he let out a breathy laugh. The sound was always music to her ears.

"I think I need to sleep in more often," Fred whispered, pulling his head back to connect their gazes, admiring her fucked out appearance, bruised lips, hickeys everywhere, and dried lines of tears running down her cheeks. She was beautiful.

"I think..." Y/n breathed, propping herself on her elbows and cupping his face in her hands.

"I could go for another apology," She finished, a smirk toying on her lips.

A shit-eating grin spanned across Fred's lips, his eyes lighting up at her insinuation.

"If I ever say no to that, kill me,"

----

Hope you enjoyed! If there are spelling/grammar mistakes, I'm sorry. I wrote this at like 1 am.

[jeridandridge]

For Lovers At Night part 4

You and Melissa go on a real date. Someone catches on to her activities. words: 3454 Previous chapter

A night of pure bliss sends Melissa into the most delightful sleep she’s had in years. Lying tangled between the sheets with you running your fingers through her hair sent her into a spiral when she woke, wondering if everything was actually real. You two had stopped at some point for a break, you leaving the room on wobbly legs to get water and fruit for you both to replenish before coming back to steal kisses and more stories of each others past.

“Hi,” she grumbles out hiding her face in your neck.

“Hi, gorgeous.” You grin not stopping your movements. Waking up to Melissa’s weight against you, the smell of lavender and vanilla gave you a sense of happiness, loneliness you’d felt before melting away. Having been so career driven for so long and not really having family often took a toll on you. But now with Melissa everything was beautiful again. “Sleep good here?”

The redhead stays glued to you, her fingers moving up and down your side in lazy patterns including over the small bruises that cover your hips. “Better than I have in a long time, hon.”

Her raspy morning voice sends a spark through your body, of course she’d be incredibly attractive after just waking up. “You know, it’s really rude how stunning you are right now.”

“You already got lucky, Tesoro. No need to sweet talk me.” She hums.

Shifting gently to look at her you move your fingers to play with the necklace against her skin. “I really do like you, Mel. I wasn’t just trying to get into your pants.” You tell her softly, hoping your actions from the previous night and now could really show her.

Melissa knew that there was something between you two already. Something of real substance and feelings, not just a quick hook up. Looking in your eyes she moves her hand up to your cheek, something she’s now used to doing in such a short time of knowing you.

“Be patient with me while I get used to- us.” She whispers hoping you understand. In that moment she hates how she sounds. Scared and unsure, hoping you don’t get sick of her.

“I don’t know what your ex did to make you feel this way,” you start, “but I’m not him. How’s the quote go, ‘If your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours.’

A smile spreads across Melissa’s lips, eyes bright and full of a spark. “Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla.”

“A queer horror love story long before Dracula.” You beam gently squeezing her hand that cups your cheek. “I remembered that quote the first night I met you. You were sitting there reading and you were so content in that little corner. I tried to find a reason to come talk to you again.”

Melissa leans forward, peppering your cheeks and lips in soft kisses with a smile still on her flushed cheeks. You let out a laugh wrapping both arms around her gorgeous frame.

Letting out a content sigh the redhead takes her place back on your shoulder, her thumb still caressing your cheek as she cuddles in not wanting to move just yet.

“Do you need to be anywhere today?” You ask quietly.

Melissa thinks, knowing she doesn’t have much to do but grade some papers and do laundry all while avoiding Joe.

“Nope. I’m all yours.” She hums meaning it in more ways than one.

“Good,” you grin. “I think a real date is necessary.”

Melissa chuckles dancing her fingers across your skin. “Last night didn’t count?”

“Last night was- amazing.” You beam as flashes of red hair and the sound of breathy moans flood your memory. “But you deserve a real date. I’m a hopeless romantic at heart.”

Lifting her head up Melissa pulls the sheet around her body sliding off the bed leaving you bare.

“Where you going?” You laugh watching her wrap herself in the soft fabric. Propping yourself on your elbows you watch her silhouette behind the divider wall.

“Your cute little kitchen to make breakfast.” She calls out finding her discarded panties and your hoodie that were thrown to the floor the previous night.

“After last night I should be the one cooking breakfast.” You laugh through a stretch, eyes going to the ceiling. Laying there hearing Melissa move around your apartment puts a triumphant smile on your lips. Getting up to find your discarded clothes you dress and come out spotting Melissa with her hair up and your baggy hoodie on her.

“You’re so cute like this,” you beam coming up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“What, with sex hair and a sweatshirt?” She laughs.

“Yep.” you grin kissing the side of her neck. This felt so natural to you, having so easily blended together in the small space.

“Careful, hon. I refuse to burn food. Mark that down.” She hums leaning into your touch.

“My apologies and noted.” You laugh slowly pulling your arms away going for the coffee pot. “You’re Italian and you cook, let me guess you make a mean ziti.”

“Damn right I do. Only problem is I can only cook for large groups of people.”

“Good thing I’m a bottomless pit. Cook away, Schemmenti.”

The morning carries on and Melissa cooks up the best breakfast you’re sure you’ve had since you lived at home. At your small kitchen table you sit talking and laughing with the redhead over more anecdotes from your life as you two get to know each other more.

“I did! I made like three hundred bucks that night too. Well, before the cops came.”

Melissa has her head thrown back, laughing in the small chair across from you. “A girl after my own heart, that was a hot spot in high school.”

“I can’t imagine how many parties were broken up in that hell hole over the years.” You laugh into your coffee cup. “I could picture a high school Melissa there.”

“Oh yeah?” She beams, “Do ya think we would’ve been friends in high school or college?”

“Definitely. If you spent time in the library or art room, you’d see me in the corner.”

Melissa grins at the mental image as she plates the food, patting your butt to go to the table. Breakfast passes by with jokes and soft touches, your fingers intertwined with the redheads when you make a suggestion for your first date.

“Pick a number, one or two.” You suggest.

The redhead looks at you with a quirked brow as she plays with your fingers. “Two.”

“Good choice, how do you feel about going for a walk around the park before the place opens?”

Melissa sits back with a grin intrigued by your suaveness. “It’s already almost noon, where you taking me, hon?”

“You’ll have to wait and fight out.” You chuckle gathering the dishes to clean up.

As you stand at the sink Melissa hears her phone chime in her purse nearby. Getting up to retrieve the device her face turns sour when she reads the name on the screen.

Joe: Did you stay the night at Barbs?

Rolling her eyes Melissa texts out a quick yes adding that she’ll be with Kristen Marie all day. She knew her little sister would cover for her.

“Anything fun going on?” You smile taking a seat on the couch.

“Nah,” Melissa shrugs setting her phone back down. “It was one of the other teachers asking about career day coming up this week.”

Melissa has always been good at lying, it’s a skill she picked up at an early age only now she finds herself feeling guilty for lying about little things like this to you.

“Hey that sounds fun, I bet a day like that gives you teachers a bit of a break.” You smile having no idea of Melissa’s inner turmoil.

“That’s also what movies and legos are for.” She chuckles. “Should we get dressed if you’re gonna take me to some mystery second location?”

“Maybe a shower first.” You smirk getting up, taking your clothes off as you make your way to the bathroom. Melissa follows you briskly, resulting in a shower that’s for sure to make your water bill high.

In the mid afternoon you find yourself walking hand in hand with Melissa to the mystery destination. As you two walk you can’t help but smile, the sun hits auburn hair just right and it makes your stomach jump.

“What? Do I look okay?” She asks adjusting her leather jacket she found herself loving once again.

“Nothing,” you chuckle, “you’re really beautiful is all.”

Melissa gently squeezes your hand smiling with her chin up just slightly. Leaning over as you two walk you kiss the corner of her lips. “Ha! Got ya.”

“Poor me,” she teases staying close to you. As you go through the park you see flowers blooming along the bishes, breaking away from Melissa for a moment you hop over to the brush to pick a purple petaled flower tucking it behind her ear.

Melissa lets out a chuckle gently touching the flower. She was in big trouble with this woman and it was more apparent at this very moment. Looking at the new person in her life she can’t help but be vulnerable for a moment with a giddy smile.

“You make me feel special.”

Slipping your arm around her waist you lean in kissing the tip of her nose. “I want to for as long as you’ll let me.”

Out in the cool spring air in the lively Love Park no less, Melissa wraps her arm around your neck pulling you into a gentle kiss. Smiling into against her lips you cant help but come to the realization that you were completely entranced by this woman.

“C’mon, let’s get to this real date.” You beam. Through the park along the street of businesses and tourist traps, you lead Melissa to a building opening the door for her.

“No way.” The redhead lets out as she realizes where you two are. “Axe throwing?!” She lights up like a little kid, practically jumping.

“Yep.” You laugh guiding her to a stool at the bar in the front of the building. “Acohol and sharp object are an interesting combination.”

“Funny, my cousin Niko says the same thing.” Melissa jokes sliding her jacket off into the seat. “It’s five o’clock somewhere right?” She asks flagging down the bartender.

After a warm up drink and signing a waiver, you stand in your caged in area in the back recording the redhead wind up holding the axe over her head.

“Is it wrong I think you look really hot with that?” You tease getting a laugh out of her.

“Don’t throw me off, Amore!”

Holding your phone up you grin watching her arms flex as she throws the axe, it landing right next to the bullseye. “So close!”

“Someone was distracting me.” She hums stepping toward you.

“Do I still get a kiss for good luck?” You tease resting your hands on her hips.

Melissa leans up obliging, giving you a featherlight kiss. “Go on, right now it looks like I’m picking our next date.”

“We’ll see about that, Schemmenti.” You grin stepping up to get the axe she threw.

“If I get a bullseye, I get to take you to the Phillies home opener.”

Melissa’s jaw almost hits the floor at the idea. “You- you wanna go to a Phillies game with me?”

“Yeah I do.” You grin turning around, winding up to throw. Melissa admires your toned arms, undoubtedly from moving books and shelving in the bar. She remembers when she met Joe. He was just out of the army and very much still in shape. Now, as a second shift firefighter his age and wear on his body showed along with the grey that was beginning to show in his dark hair.

Snapping out of it when you flight the axe, Melissa laughs seeing it go right to the red mark in the center of the circle.

“Remind me to never introduce you to my brother.” She jokes.

“Oh yeah? Does he have a thing for throwing sharp objects?” You laugh coming over wrapping your arms around her, the rest of the noise in the place now more lively, becoming background noise.

“Kinda, yeah.” She laughs resting her arms around your neck. This silly activity was certainly something she loved.

Later on in the night after a goodbye kiss, Melissa gets home around eight o’clock ready to get prepared for another week of work while Joe works on whatever in the garage.

“Hey, how was it with Kristen Marie?” He asks not looking up from the toolbox.

“The usual, gossip and backhanded compliments.” Melissa shrugs, not bothering to stop before she goes in the house, her mind still on you.

The next week goes on as it usually does. Texting occurs and phone calls when possible, and Melissa finds herself falling in love with the younger woman that’s occupied her thoughts nonstop since meeting. At the end of the week she teaches and is ready for a much needed break during career day. She was actually grateful that Joe said yes to coming in to speak to her class in the afternoon.

When the time arrives for Joe to come in, Melissa gets up going to the door. “Okay my little eagles, our next guest is a firefighter!” This gets a waves of gasps and “woah!” from the kids, eagerly ready to meet him. “Everyone say hello to Mr. Peterson.”

Joe comes in looking his best with a friendly smile for the kids. Waving, he comes in standing next to Melissa. “Hi guys!”

“Wait, are you married?” One of the kids asks putting two and two together.

“We are, kiddo.” Joe nods. “Isn’t Mrs. Peterson the best teacher,” he smiles knowing his wife loves her kids.

A chorus of “yeah!” fills the room before Melissa chuckles calming the kids down to let Joe talk to them about being a firefighter in the city.

A few blocks over, you sit in your office with a smile on your lips as you scroll on Facebook on your phone. You’d sent Melissa flowers at work, and were eagerly waiting for a text or call to hear about career day. You’ve known the woman for less than three months and it was way too soon; but you knew you were falling for her already. Sitting there feeling curious thinking about the woman that’s stolen your heart, you do a quick search looking for a Melissa Schemmenti hoping to learn more about her.

Scrolling the page your brows knit together when you see her profile picture, but with the name Peterson on the end. Maybe she hadn’t changed her last name yet is what you think. Clicking the page, you see her profile pictures, one of her and Barbara, another of her and who you guess is her sister, and a public post written on her wall by a Jospeh Peterson from only a month ago. The post shows a wedding photo in a frame and a long, tiring rant of “I’m not perfect but she loves me anyway” post that you’ve seen so many times before.

Taking a screenshot of the post and the profile, you sit back taking it all in. She lied to you. She was married still, not even close to being out of a relationship. You needed to talk to her.

“Did you like it?” Melissa smiles from her desk, Joe sat on a chair on the other side as they eat lunch together. It was strange having him there, something he hadn’t done since her first year teaching.

“It was fun, the kids are great, Melly. I see now why you talk about them so much.”

Giving him a tight lipped smile she takes a sip of her iced tea looking up when there’s a knock on the door from the school security guard.

“A delivery for you,” he ushers the man forward, clearly from a flower shop given the purple exotic flowers in his hand.

“For Melissa Schemmenti?” He asks checking his clip board.

Melissa’s eyes go wide and her heart starts to pound when Joe looks at her.

“Thanks pal,” Joe nods to the men getting up to take the flowers closing the door after.

“Joe I-“ Melissa steps forward trying to grab the bouquet.

“Who the hell is sending you flowers under your maiden name?” He asks turning the flowers around, not caring if he ruined them while looking for the card. Melissa sees it first, swiftly reaching over and swiping it away before he can read it.

Taking a breath she looks at her husband. “I need you to remember we’re at my job where a bunch of children are present.”

“I don’t give a shit, Melissa!” He fumes. “Who the hell is sending you flowers? What’s his name?”

Stepping forward he snatches the small card from her hand reading it aloud with an almost red face.

“Hi gorgeous, I find myself thinking that even a week without seeing you is too long now. To quote one of our favorites, ‘you reached in and put a string of lights around my heart.’ It might sound cheesy but it’s the truth.

Yours, y/n

Joes tosses the card down and paces running his hand over his beard.

“A woman huh?”

Melissa wants to curl into a ball and sob. She didn’t want it to happen this way. She was only happy that he had no idea who you were.

“A woman, I can’t even go kick anyone’s ass.” He lets out in a defeated laugh.

“This ended a long time ago Joe. It ended the first night you cheated on me.” Melissa stands her ground not showing any fear, finally tired of it all.

“Oh come on Melissa! I thought you were over all of that.” He tries to dismiss her. That’s when she gets angry.

“Fuck you,” she lets out in a bitter laugh. “You and I both know that every single time I found out you cheated on me I had to stop the boys from coming to kill you on the spot. I’m tired of knowing you’re fucking other women and not giving two shits about me. I let it go so we wouldn’t have to deal with the shame of a divorce, but I can’t anymore. I’m too old for this.

I met her when I wasn’t expecting it, and I definitely wasn’t expecting to have an affair. It just happened, it happened and god I love being taken care of and looked at like I mean something.” She starts to cry, her heart pounding. “For the first time in twenty years Joe, d’you know how long that is? To feel wanted and loved?” She whispers.

Joe meets her eyes, cheeks red but eyes softer now after her admission. He does nothing but look at the flowers and back at her with a nod.

Melissa stands across from him, eye makeup running and nerves twisting.

“I want a divorce.” She lets out in a whisper.

“I’ll move out tonight.”

With that, Joe grabs his keys and leaves, the door hitting the wall as he goes. Moving to her desk Melissa sits with her head in her hands, sniffling when Barb comes to her door.

“Melissa I- oh sweetheart.” Barbara rushes over engulfing her friend in a hug.

Resting her hands on the arm Barb has around her, Melissa lets out a sigh. “I did it, Barb. He found out. He found out and I did it. I asked for a divorce.”

Looking at the flowers and the discarded carb and mess on the desk Barbara rubs Melissa’s back. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Did- did these do it?” She asks nodding to the vase.

“Yeah,” Melissa sniffles wiping her smudged makeup. “They were delivered with a card when we were eating.” She takes a staggered breath trying to calm down.

“Calm yourself and clean up, text her to say thank you while I go pick your kids up from the lunchroom. We can talk later over dinner.”

Of course Barbara’s a saint, taking care of her and helping her out like the work wife she is. Melissa nods, sniffling once more as Barbara leaves to get her kids. Taking a breath she wipes her eyes and picks up her phone, freezing when she sees a text on her screen.

Opening it she sees your name and a screenshot of her Facebook profile. She can feel her heart breaking in her chest when she sees the anniversary post and your words underneath the screenshot.

We need to talk.

Next chapter

[hayanwulf]

Hi hello I hope you’re doing well! :)

I was going to prompt, for spooky season, another vampire Stephen? Maybe a continuation of the Ironstrange one if you’re interested?

(Though I might have already asked. I’m sorry if I have. I remember thinking about sending a prompt and I have no clue if I ever actually did)

Thank you for the well wishes. And, gee, aren’t you a lucky ducky, cause there’s a couple of strangefrost vamp!stephen prompts soon after yours in the queue.

Click here to read the first part of IronStrange Vamp!Stephen

The lust is going haywire, Stephen thought dryly as he came to.

His body felt oddly numb, and the urge to drink, to kill, pushed violently against the semblance of control and stability in his mind’s Sanctum even as his own rational thoughts tried to hold them back. He tried to open his eyes, and groaned at the bright lights that instantly filtered in through his eyes, squinting. He had a headache.

His head was splitting, and his body felt numb, and the lust was pushing its way up relentlessly, and Stephen felt like absolute shit.

The brightness of the room dulled a little, and Stephen tried to open his eyes again, finding a sterile looking ceiling above him. He also realized that he was laid out in a bed. Why was he in a bed? Better yet, where was he?

“Stephen?” A gentle voice called to him, a voice that Stephen was all too familiar with. He stilled, only now catching onto the sweet, inviting scent of blood just to his left.

Oh, Vishanti, he thought as he realized that Tony was not only sitting right next to him, but held one of Stephen’s hands in his hold. He turned to look at the genius, and found a pained look etched in his face. All the memories of what had happened returned to him.

The werewolf fight.

So much blood spilled.

So much blood lost.

And here he was, lying on a recovery bed with Vishanti knew how many wounds while his bloodlust raged inside his mind, rapidly fraying the control and discipline he had worked hard for years to establish. And right in front of him was the love of his life, the one who he had silently sworn to protect at all costs, smelling oh-so-delectable, completely unaware of just how much of a danger Stephen was to him.

Stephen hated himself for it. Would forever hate himself for it.

He swallowed, nervously licking the inside of his lips, and froze, his eyes widening.

If Stephen’s blood had been warm, it would’ve gone cold right at that moment.

His fangs were out.

Which meant his eyes must also be red.

Which meant his true identity was on full display for Tony, for his friend and the love of his life, for the hunter that sat not a foot away from Stephen.

He yanked his hand away from Tony’s grip and tried to stand up, because he needed to get away, he needed to run far far away and never show his face to this man again.

In reality, all he managed was a grunt and a pathetic crawl away from Tony, until he reached the other edge of the bed, wanting to topple himself off but simply having no energy left in his body whatsoever, nor the courage. His wounds tugged painfully, whatever medication was in his system not enough to curb the pain.

“Stephen, hey,” Tony stood up, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

“What..” Stephen asked in a shaky voice as he tried to prop himself up on elbows and miserably failed at that, even. “I’m.. I..” He tried to form words, but couldn’t find any. What did he even say? I’m sorry for deceiving? I never meant to lie?

I love you.

You smell delicious.

Each thought that flashed through his mind was even more appalling than the previous.

There was nothing, nothing that he could say to Tony.

“You bled a lot, Stephen,” Tony said carefully. “You need blood.”

Horror crept up Stephen’s spine as he realized what Tony meant, when the other man slowly climbed into the bed with him. His mind screamed at him to act on the chance. To pin the human down and drain him dry. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t. It took all of his willpower to not give in to the raging lust inside of him, to keep his control holding true, weak and frail as it was now.

“You need to leave,” Stephen pleaded, shaking his head in denial when Tony’s hand came to gently cup his face.

“No,” The genius declared, and then grabbed the back of Stephen’s head to pull him in until his face was buried in Tony’s neck. Stephen made a strange noise at the back of his throat when his senses were suddenly so full of Tony, the warmth of the genius’ body, the saccharine, tantalizing smell of his blood, the distinct scent of Tony which Stephen, at some point, had come to associate with home.

Stephen squeezed his eyes shut as his fangs itched fiercely, his instincts now a roaring voice inside of his head. His lips were practically touching the tender skin. It would be so, so easy to just give in, sink his fangs into that same skin which he had fantasized many a nights about caressing, kissing tenderly, worshiping.

“Please, Tony,” Stephen begged, wishing that the genius would just leave. He was teetering at the edge of his control. “I can’t hurt you. Please.”

At that, Tony pulled him away to look down at him. He wore a look similar to the pained expression Stephen had seen in his face when he had woken up.

“Stephen, you’re the last person on this planet who would hurt me.”

Stephen’s breath stuttered, tears falling from his eyes. How could Tony have so much trust in him? He did not understand.

“I.. I’m a vampire, Tony,” Stephen whispered in a broken voice, because maybe that would give Tony the wake-up call. Maybe now the genius would realize that this was all real and that he was hugging a vampire so damn close to his neck. That he needed to let go, run, and abandon Stephen for good.

Instead of doing any of that, Tony huffed and spoke in a dry voice, “Yeah, your eyes kind of gave it away. Or, I don’t know, the fact that you don’t have a heartbeat. I am mad at you about it by the way. But I’ll feel like an asshole if I yell at you when you’re looking like this.” He shoved Stephen’s face back into his neck, and when he spoke next, his voice was much softer. “So what you’re going to do now is feed on me, and we’ll figure out the rest later. I trust you. You won’t hurt me.”

Tears steadily streamed out of Stephen’s eyes as he pressed his nose into the soft skin, inhaling Tony’s natural scent, and the scent of the blood rushing just beneath. He didn’t know what he had done to earn such an absolute trust of this beautiful, impossible man, who never gave his trust away to just anyone.

Tony’s trust was not something to be taken lightly. It was an utterly precious thing. And so Stephen found all the fight leaving his body as he gave in to Tony’s demand.

He recalled years of training and discipline. He firmly clamped a tight vice around his bloodlust, his determination fueled further by his need to protect his precious love from himself. He would feed from Tony, but he would be the one in control throughout. He would stop when he had drunk a safe amount.

I will let myself be hurt before I ever hurt you, he silently vowed, and sank his teeth deep into Tony’s veins.

[baby-yongbok]

Poetry

Chapter Five - Morning After

Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, sweet like candy

Summary: Will you die of embarrassment or will you make it through?

Word Count: 4,446

A/N: I wanted to do so much in this chapter but I'm trying to pace the story right. I hope it isn't too boring lol this the first fluff series I've ever written and my first slow-ish burn series ever in my years of writing. I hope that you enjoy it! + If you haven't already, I highly recommend reading the previous parts before this one so that you get the ✨full experience✨. See you next Thursday at 6 💕

Part Four

✧Poetry Series Masterlist✧

✧Main Masterlist✧

Is this even real? You’ve been asking yourself that for the past twenty minutes while you’re cuddled into Hyunjin’s side laughing about any and everything. Did you guys really just kiss? You find yourself sneaking your hand up to your lips every few seconds as the feeling lingers, you’re not ready to let it go just yet. 

“So did you ever find out what it was?” Hyunjin asks, curious to know more details about your haunted childhood home that you’re telling him about.

“Nope, but I truly believe that It was a ghost.” Hyunjin shakes his head, staring up at your ceiling. “How did we end up telling ghost stories?”

“I asked what made you afraid of lightning and it all spiraled from there.”

“Ah, right.” You glance over at your digital clock but there are no numbers on display. You were so tangled in your own world with Hyunjin that you completely forgot that the power went out. 

“What time is it?” Hyunjin sits up and you follow. He looks around for his phone as you make your way to your vanity for yours. 

“11:23pm” Your voices clash with each other as you both answer at the same time, you both follow with a chuckle and Hyunjin stands from your bed.

“I should probably get going.” He stretches, taking a quick peek out of your window to gauge the storm's intensity. It’s nothing like it was earlier, it’s actually way worse. 

“I am not letting you walk home in that.” You protest, taking a peek out of the window yourself. The sidewalks are damn near flooded. 

“I walked here and I was fine.”

“You were soaking wet.”

“That’s nothing.” Hyunjin shrugs, you cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him. He flashes a cute playful smile at you and you roll your eyes, taking a step towards him.

 “I’m not letting you walk home in that, it's too dangerous and you’ll definitely get sick.” Hyunjin shrugs again, his smile not fading. He steps closer and you can't help but feel your heart flutter, you scoff, turning towards your closet and making your way over to it.

“You’re staying the night.” Hyunjin chuckles lightly, you can hear his bare feet against your floor as he circles the bed over to your closet.

“I saw that coming.” You reach for some extra blankets at the top of your closet, stretching yourself to get to them. “I got it.” 

Hyunjin gently places his hand on the small of your back before reaching up to grab the blankets. You feel that familiar electricity run up your spine but this time it’s less of a surprising sensation and more of a relaxing one. “Anything else?” Hyunjin peers down at you, waiting for your answer.

“You tell me, you’re the one sleeping on the floor.” You shrug as you meet his gaze. He tongues his cheek, sighing sarcastically

“I don’t even get the couch?” 

“Our couch is way worse than the floor, trust me. That thing graduated university with me.” 

“Ew, okay, I’ll take the floor.” He takes note of what he’s already taken down from the closet before asking for another blanket, you point to one on the other side of your closet and just as he reaches for it you both hear a loud crash coming from somewhere in your apartment. You both turn towards the door, brows pinched together as you listen closely for any other sounds. 

“Let me check on that.” You start walking towards your door and Hyunjin follows close behind. You stop suddenly, turning to look at him with furrowed brows. “You don’t have to come.”

“You want me to let you investigate a loud sound in your apartment with no power on?” Hyunjin asks slowly and sarcastically. “Make it make sense.”

“Fine.” You sigh, you’re sure that I was nothing, probably just the wind. You open your bedroom door and creep out slowly, using your phone flashlight to illuminate your path. Hyunjin follows, his eyes busy scanning everything around him. Once you start to approach the kitchen you can hear the sound of glass clinking. You follow the sound and find another flashlight in the kitchen held by your distracted roommate. He’s got his headphones on as he cleans up the mess that he made, unfortunately that mess was your antique thrift shop vase shattered with the orange roses that Hyunjin gave you sprawled out on the tile. 

“Ugh, really Bin?” You groan just loud enough to grab Changbin’s attention. 

“Ah, sorry about this, I was looking for more matches and I knocked it over. I’ll buy you a new vase.” You nod, taking a couple of steps closer to check out the damage. Just as you’re about to comment, Changbin asks you a question that makes your heart skip. 

“How was your date? Was I right?” You look up at him with wide eyes and try to subtly shake your head. There’s no way that he’s asking you this and Hyunjin is right behind you, does he not see the tall dark haired man standing right there? Is he blind?

“I wasn’t right? He didn’t kiss you?” You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and dramatically palming your forehead. “What?” 

“Hey.” Hyunjin speaks before you can, taking a step forward and awkwardly waving at Changbin. “I’m Hyunjin, nice to meet you.” 

You can hear Hyunjin trying to hold his laughter and you cringe a bit from embarrassment. How could Changbin do this to you? You definitely won’t let him forget this.

“Oh shit, Uh nice to meet you, man. I’m Changbin.” Your roommate introduces himself then looks over at you. “You could’ve warned me.”

“You could’ve kept your mouth shut until the morning.” You roll your eyes, sighing dramatically. “He’s staying over, I’ll see you in the morning. Try not to humiliate me again, please.” 

You and Hyunjin turn around to walk away and Hyunjin mutters a quick good night before retreating back into your room. Before you can get too far you hear Changbin whisper yelling your name and you turn back towards him. “Was I right?”

You groan, turning around and flashing your middle finger in your roommate's direction before walking away. When you get back to your room Hyunjin is fiddling with the blankets you gave him, starting to set up his spot on the floor. You go over to the head of your bed to pick out some pillows for him, you both move in silence for a minute or two until Hyunjin clears his throat. 

“So -” 

“Don’t.” You cut him off before he can finish and he immediately bursts into a fit of laughter. You groan, trying your best not to laugh with him. “Do not make me relive the embarrassment.”

“Come on.” Hyunjin grabs your wrist as he tries to stop laughing. He pulls you into him, hugging you but you don’t hug him back. “You wanted me to kiss you tonight?”

“No.”

“No?” Hyunjin pulls back to look down at you, amusement written all over his face. You roll your eyes, pouting a bit as you realize that you have no way out of this.

“I mean, I wanted you to, yeah. But, Changbin predicted that you would, so that's why he asked if he was right.” Hyunjin nods, still smiling down at you.

“Are you going to talk about me when I leave?”

“Please don’t make me answer that.” You stomp your feet dramatically.

“That’s a yes.” He lets you go and you plop down onto your bed face down. “What are you doing?”

“Dying of embarrassment.” Hyunjin sits next to you on the bed, ruffling your hair playfully.

“Please don’t die before I get to take you on a second date.” You sigh dramatically into the mattress and Hyunjin smiles as he watches you. How could you be so cute?

“Too late, I’m withering away, this is the last you’ll see of me. I’ll be nothing but dust in the morning.” Your voice is muffled by the mattress and Hyunjin chuckles at the sound.

“Why are the ones that read always so dramatic?” You roll over, gasping at him and pretending to be offended. Your hand lays over your heart, exaggerating your reaction.

“I am not dramatic.” 

“Hey, I am too. I’ve been called a drama queen for years but clearly you’re coming for my crown.” You roll your eyes, pulling yourself onto your feet and dusting yourself off. 

“This is why you’re sleeping on the floor."

Your alarm wakes you up at 6:30 am just like it does every other morning. The sun has yet to rise but you can already hear the birds singing. You sit up, stretching a bit with a yawn, you look over to your left and stare for a second before leaning over the edge of the bed a bit to get a closer look. Hyunjin is still fast asleep, he’s turned on his side with one arm draped lazily over his chest while the other holds his phone. You faintly remember falling asleep before him last night. The two of you ended up talking until about two in the morning, you can never seem to stay up later than that since you start your day so early. Hyunjin stirs a bit in his sleep, huffing out a breath and moaning lightly as he brings his knees closer to his chest. You watch him, admiring how peaceful he looks curled up on your floor. 

Your admiration is cut short when he mumbles something in his sleep but it’s not just anything, it's your name. You stare down at him in shocked silence before pulling back and laying back against your pillows. Your wide eyes scanned the ceiling searching for confirmation, did you really just hear that? Did he really just say that? You close your eyes for a second, trying your best to refocus. You don’t have time to wonder what his dream is about. You need to get ready to start your day… but what was it about? You shake your head, sitting up and forcing yourself to start moving. If you’re going to obsess over it you might as well be productive. You step out of bed quietly, making sure not to bump into anything. You circle your bed and make your way over to your door. Just as you’re about to turn the knob your second alarm starts going off, you jump at the sound before turning around and rushing over to turn it off. You pick up your phone quickly, fumbling with it before you finally swipe the alarm off. You exhale heavily and glance over at Hyunjin, you smile a bit as you take in his unbothered frame still sleeping peacefully. He’s a heavy sleeper, huh? That must be a good dream.

You take your phone with you as you make your way out of your room, closing the door carefully. You make your way to the bathroom across the hall to get started on your morning routine. You wash your face and brush your teeth as your mind shifts through all of the possible reasons that Hyunjin would say your name in his sleep. Maybe he’s dreaming about your date or some cool adventure. Maybe you just made a quick appearance in the dream and you were there and gone in a flash. You look in the mirror, checking your face for any blemishes when a certain thought sticks out at you, maybe it was a wet dream. Your eyes widen and you almost want to smack yourself for thinking that. You two literally just had your first date, there’s no way that he’s having a wet dream about you, but time doesn’t really matter in the dream world does it? You splash some cold water on your face to pull yourself out of your thoughts before going back to your room, the last thing that you need is to spiral into a fit of ‘What if’s’. As you’re going back to your room you can hear music coming from Changbin’s. He always wakes up at least half an hour before you do to get a head start on working out before the two of you eat breakfast together. You both take turns preparing breakfast and today was his day to cook. 

When you get back to your door you turn the knob gently, trying your best not to make any noise. When you open the door you’re surprised to see Hyunjin sitting up from his spot, his knees tucked into his chest and his head resting on his crossed arms. You close your door just as gently as you opened it, not wanting to scare him. He hasn’t looked up at you so you assume that you did a pretty good job at sneaking in until you hear a sniffle. You freeze as you watch him. He’s still, no shaking or micro movement but he sniffles again and you notice him trying to subtly wipe his eyes, he’s crying. You slowly walk over to him, kneeling down when you get close enough and crawling over to close the gap between you two. He doesn’t move, it’s almost like he didn’t even notice you were there. You don’t say a word, instead you lay your hand on his back, rubbing large circles against his t-shirt. You can feel him relax a bit as you soothe him, his shoulders drop a bit and his back muscles untense. You two sit in silence for a couple of seconds until Hyunjin moves, in a swift yet slow motion he uncurls himself and sinks into you. His head finds your chest and his arms snake around your torso, holding you close. You gasp as the sudden change but quickly settle once he’s comfortable. 

“Sorry about this.” He mumbles, his face halfway pressed into your collar bone. “I had a nightmare.”

Your heart skips and your thoughts begin the race as his words skin in. He had a nightmare with you in it?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You want to know more, both in an attempt to comfort him and in a selfish attempt to calm your rising anxiety.

“No, I'd rather just try to forget about it.” You mumble a small ‘okay’ and attempt to put your anxiety aside to comfort him properly. After about a minute of hugging you he pulls away, he looks over at you with puffy eyes and a small grin on his face. 

“I’m alright.” He nearly whispers as he wipes his face. “I have nightmares often but sometimes they’re terrifying, I guess last night was one of those nights.”

You nod, trying to drown out your thoughts. Not only did he have a nightmare with you in it but he had a terrifying nightmare that literally brought him to tears, that’s great. 

“I’m always here if you want to talk about it.” You try to sound as affirming as you can and it clearly worked since Hyunjin flashed you a more sincere grin this time. You decide to try and stop your spiraling once again by attempting to get ready for your day and trying to help distract Hyunjin. You stand from your seat on the floor, pulling him up with you. He’s a bit reluctant but he follows you, towering over you as soon as he stands completely. You reach both of your hands up towards the ceiling, your pajama shirt lifting a bit as you do. Hyunjin watches you with furrowed brows and you smile.

“Come on, stretch with me.” He smiles back for a second before joining you, a heavy sigh followed by a long whine leaving his lips. You chuckle as you transition into your next stretch.

“You stretch like a five year old.”

“Hey, I do not.” His morning voice catches you off guard now that you can hear it clearly. You expected it to be a bit raspy but you didn’t expect it to be that deep. You blush a bit at the sound of it as you twist your torso and Hyunjin follows. 

“You do.” Hyunjin pouts in your direction, making a sound that a child would make, proving you right.

“I do not.”

You managed to get Hyunjin in higher spirits after some stretching and a bit of play fighting. Apparently calling him by his full name makes him tackle you and tickle you until you agree to never say it again. You put on your morning playlist, humming to the music as your favorite songs played and Hyunjin helped you pick out your outfit for the day. He shifted through your closet for what seemed like forever, picking things out and putting them back until he found a skirt and sweater comb that he thought gave off the ‘Autumn Spirit’. You dressed up the outfit, adding some warm tights and a jacket while he grabbed all of his stuff. Once he was ready he picked out some jewelry for you to wear but there was one piece that you weren’t familiar with.

“Is this yours?” You watch him as he fastens a bracelet around your wrist. The silver chain was a bit heavier than you expected.

“Mhm” He responded happily, watching your reaction closely.

“Does it cost a thousand dollars? It’s so heavy.” Hyunjin laughs as you run your fingers over the cool metal. You rotate the bracelet until the silver name plate shows the brand written in bold letters on the front of it. “This is Versace?”

He smiles at your bewildered tone. “Hyunjin I can’t take this, what if I lose it? What if I break it? This bracelet could probably pay my student loans.”

“Well, it’s only a five hundred dollar bracelet so it’s not that bad.” You stare up at him wide eyed and he tries his best to not laugh at your expression. “ And you can give it back to me when you see me again.”

“You’re not going to act like you didn’t just say that this chain on my arm is five hundred dollars.”

“Angel, it’s not that bad.” You open your mouth to rebuttal but you get stuck on the name that he just called you, he’s never called you anything but your actual name before. A deep blush creeps up your neck and over your cheeks and you look back down at your wrist, studying the expensive jewelry. 

“Fine, I’ll wear it.” You smile down at the chain before turning to grab your bag from the end of your bed. “Did you want to stay for breakfast?”

“I should actually get going so I can return this suit to Han, he’s been texting me about it for the past thirty minutes and if I don’t get it back to him soon our next date will be my funeral.” You chuckle, watching as Hyunjin grabs his stuff and puts his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“We don’t want that now do we?” You look in the mirror one more time before turning to face Hyunjin. He’s grinning at you, his eyes taking you in slowly. “What?”

“You just look beautiful today.” 

“You’re only saying that because you picked out this outfit.”

“I’m saying it because you look stunning in everything.” He takes a step towards you, looking down at you with sparkling eyes but you can’t decipher the emotion behind his gaze. “And because I picked out your outfit.” 

He smiles wider once you gasp at him dramatically. He leans down and lands a quick kiss on your forehead, causing the blush on your cheeks to deepen all over again. 

“Get out.” You playfully roll your eyes and Hyunjin chuckles.

“Yes ma’am.” You both make your way over to your bedroom door and Hyunjin opens it, moving to the side so you can exit first. Just as the two of you are approaching the kitchen you hear Hyunjin mumble something before following up.

“Ah, I forgot my charger. I’ll be right back.” He turns around, heading back to your room to grab his forgotten item and you decide to wait for him in the living room. Just as the kitchen comes into sight you hear a very excited voice call your name. You light up a bit as your eyes land on her, Serena, Changbin’s girlfriend, is sitting at the kitchen island across from him. You and Serena get along well, maybe a bit too well. She and Changbin have been dating since your Junior year of University, if there’s anyone that you would think to be couple goals it’s definitely them.  

“Serena! What did I do to deserve such a beautiful woman in my house this early in the morning?” You make your way over to hug her, trying your best not to mess up her very sophisticated pants suit. 

“I bought breakfast so that I could get the tea while it’s hot.” You looked around the kitchen searching for actual tea but when you didn’t find any the look on Serena’s face gave you all the answers you needed.

“You told her?” You ask Changbin with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Of course I told her. We’ve been trying to get you laid for like three years, this is a big development.” Your cheeks flush once you hear a bit of shuffling coming from down the hall, Hyunjin’s coming back, fuck. You shake your head quickly, putting your finger over your mouth and Changbin quickly gets the message. Unfortunately, Serena wasn’t as quick.

“Come on, tell me everything. Is he cute? Is he a good kisser? I need the tea immediately.” You sigh, slapping your hand against your forehead and you hear Hyunjin stop behind you. Serena’s jaw falls open as she takes in the tall man behind you who is probably as red as a strawberry from trying to hold back his laughter. 

“Good morning.” He says with a smile before taking a step towards Serena and holding a hand out towards her. “I’m Hyunjin, nice to meet you.”

“Well hello there.” Serena takes his hand as her eyes rake over Hyunjin’s frame slowly, taking in every detail. “I’m Serena, Changbin’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you”

“The pleasure is mine, Serena.” Hyunjin lets go of her hand and then turns to you with a smile. You avoid his amused gaze, trying to find something else to focus on as he takes a step over to you, nearly closing the gap between you two.

“So -” 

“Don’t” Hyunjin chuckles, trying his best to not fall into a fit of laughter. How many times can you be embarrassed in the span of twelve hours? 

“Don’t be shy, angel.” You pull your lips into a thin line as your heart flutters. That pet name is not helping, it’s only furthering the embarrassment. 

“Maybe I’ll let Han kill you.”

“Hey, don’t you want a second date?”

“I’m not so sure.” You glance up at his smiling face for a second before looking away, you can’t help but to smile a bit in return. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Hyunjin nods at you before turning back to your very captivated audience. You roll your eyes at Changbin and Serena’s smirks as you pass them, making your way over to the front door. 

“Have a good day, it was wonderful meeting you.” Hyunjin bows to them slightly and they both say a quick good-bye. Serena’s gaze follows Hyunjin as he walks away and Changbin leans over the island to push her shoulder. 

Once Hyunjin reaches you he slips on his shoes and you open the door for him. 

“I’ll text you when I get home.” You nod with a small smile and Hyunjin pulls you into a hug, it’s firm yet gentle and you can’t help but to melt into him a bit. “I hope that you had a good time last night.”

“I had a great time, really. That was probably the best date that I’ve ever been on.” Hyunjin pulls away, a look of satisfaction on his face.

“Now I have to top that.” 

“Good luck.” You tease and Hyunjin rolls his eyes.

“I’ll see you later.” Hyunjin’s eyes search yours for a second, and he gives a small, gentle smile. He leans in and gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek before whispering “And don’t worry, I’m going to talk about you too.”

Your face heats up and your heart sings a bit with excitement. He stands tall and takes a couple of steps away from you. “Don’t forget to mention how pretty I am.” You tease and he smiles wider.

“I’ll put it on the list of things to say.” He waves at you and you wave back. He gives you one last look before he turns around, making his way down the hallway and over to the elevator. You step back inside, closing the door gently and taking a deep breath. You slowly make your way back over to the kitchen, smiling like a child who’s just won a prize at the arcade.

“Binnie, when’s the last time you saw her smile like that?” Serena asks her boyfriend as she eyes you.

“I don’t think that I’ve ever seen her smile like that.” 

“Okay, come on, spill everything, we need all of the details. Changbin, make her a plate, we don’t have any time to waste.” Changbin instantly grabs a plate and puts a bit of everything that you like on it. You can hear their voices but you aren’t really listening, you're too busy smiling at the butterflies in your stomach. You snap out of it when Serena grabs your wrist and pulls you over to a bar stool, prompting you to sit next to her. Her and Changbin stare at you expectantly and you sigh, picking up your fork and starting to eat. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Did he kiss you?” Changbin asks quickly and you shake your head. They both gasp, Serena claps excitedly and your roommate puts his fist in the air as if he’s won something. “I called it.”

“The real question is, was it a good kiss?” Serena asks with raised brows and you stop eating immediately. They both lean in, waiting for you to answer while you play back the memory. The reminiscent feeling of Hyunjin’s lips on yours makes you grin a bit as you bounce your leg excitedly. You close your eyes for a second to fully immerse yourself in the memory before opening them and looking over at them. You exhale deeply before smiling. 

“It was so so good.”

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[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #176

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

He's gonna be Frank with you. Read the rest of The Frank Program here on Tumblr!

Last time on The Frank Program, Frank caught Daryl watching something on his phone during recording, and he didn't like what he saw.

Daryl exploded out the door to the parking lot, anger in his stride, fear in his posture, and tears in his eyes. Chad, leaning on a car, got up immediately when he saw the kid running off.

“Hey!” He called out. Daryl wasn’t stopping for anything.

Cautiously, Chad poked his head back inside. Frank was stoic, silent in his host’s seat, a lit cigarette in his left hand. He took a drag from it and sighed out a puff of smoke.

“Come in, Mr. Graves. We oughtta finish the show.”

“You alright, bud?”

There were bags under Frank’s eyes that Chad didn’t recall seeing before. “I’m plenty content to finish recording.”

Graves sat down in his chair. The corner behind him was conspicuously empty. The chair which had been there before sat askew and on its side at the other end of the room.

“You know, Mr. Graves -”

“You can just call me Chad.”

“Well, Chad��” Frank took another hit. “I ain’t touched a cigarette in ten years. Kept this one in the studio just to prove to myself I didn’t need it.” He chuckled. “Funny how I keep proving myself wrong, huh?”

“How’s that?”

“Oh, the usual. I think o’ someone as a friend, or a wife, or… or a son. And I come to find they never were, really. They stab me in the goddamn back.”

“I take it that your chat didn’t go too well?”

Frank sneered. “You have no idea.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around. You know teenagers, I mean… I remember when I was a teenager, I got in arguments with my parents all the time.”

“We’re no stranger to arguments, Chad. This is somethin’ else. I’m losing my boy.”

“What exactly happened?”

Frank huffed and smothered his cigarette in the ashtray. “We better get back to my prepared questions.”

“Yeah…” Chad nodded slowly. “Alright.”

Frank shuffled through pages, looking for a question he still felt like asking. “Uh… Do you and your friends ever have creative differences when working on the show?”

“I don’t think we’d be as effective at doing our jobs if we did. Really, all four of us try to stay out of the creative side of things most of the time. Our producer decides what the story is for a given episode. He takes our full night of footage, and our analysis of the findings, and he gives that to his editor to make the pieces fit together.”

“Does the show replicate the experience of actually bein’ there, do ya think?”

“To be honest with you, I don’t usually watch it. Kind of a ‘been there, done that’ situation. But I have been channel surfing before and caught a rerun from a few years ago, and it definitely brought back memories.”

“Well that’s nice. Nice to have something to look back on. I guess I’ve got that too, huh? A little piece of the past… to bring back memories.”

“Yeah, I guess so. The nice thing about the show is it cuts out all the boring bits. The parts where we’re just sitting around, whispering to each other like we’re trying not to wake up the parents at a sleepover.”

“Right,” Frank said, a lump in his throat. “Those are the parts you really miss when they’re gone.”

Chad tilted his head to look around his microphone. “It’s gonna be okay, Frank. He’ll -”

“Mr. Graves, I don’t want another grown man to see me cry. So thank you for being here, but I must be signing off. Go ahead and tell the people where to find you.”

“I’m on all the socials as @GravesGhostVisions, so just search that up if you want to see where we’re headed next.”

“Thank you. This has been The Frank Program…” Frank struggled to get the words out without letting tears come with. “So long.”

[seenoversundown]

❄️ Merry Everything & A Happy Always ❄️

Warnings : PURE FLUFF (Pet names, Endearing Themes, Christmas Cheer)

Word Count : 1.8k

In My Life - The Beatles  “Though I know I’ll never lose affection for people and things that went before I know I’ll often stop and think about them In my life, I love you more”

Josh POV

Quinn and I start the morning out in the same way that we start most mornings: At the kitchen table, sharing coffee in contented silence as we both look through the morning news.

I look up from my phone,

“What do you have planned today, Bug?”

“I was hoping to spend the day with you, Starlight.” A light blush makes its way to the top of their cheeks.

“I actually had another idea.” I flash a bright smile and brandish the envelope I’ve had lying in my lap since we first sat down.

Quinn rolls their eyes and lets out a halfhearted groan

“A bit early this year, isn’t it?”

“Mmm, I think not. We have a dinner to attend on Christmas Day, and this is the only day we both have off between now and then. It only makes sense to do it today.”

They nod along with me.

“I suppose you’re right. Give it here.”

I hand them the envelope, leaving the side with the handwritten Clue One facing up.

“Babe, you’ve been practicing your calligraphy!”

“Only for you.” I reply with a shy smile.

“No! This is really good, I’m not going to let you discount your hard work.”

“Okay, okay. Just open it.”

They very carefully used their fingernail to pop the wax seal I’d added to the back side of the envelope.

They look back at me with a quirked eyebrow.

“You’re getting fancy with these scavenger hunts, Josh. Does this mean I should really look forward to whatever is at the end of this one?”

Shit. Shitshitshit. I should have thought this through better.

I let out a small laugh and shrugged,

“Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

They pulled out the card inside, and I gave them my full attention as they read over the clue that alluded to the craft store we had met at all those years ago.

“This clue is very carefully handcrafted with all the love and attention that we have shown each other throughout the years.”

They look up at me, eyes clouded in confusion.

“This might be the most cryptic one yet.”

“You have the biggest and most beautiful brain of anyone I know. You can figure it out.” I can’t keep the absolute adoration I feel for them out of my voice, even as I tease them.

“You are the absolute worst, Joshua.”

“Well, there are four more clues, so why don’t you just try to finish the scavenger hunt before you start calling me names?”

Quinn lets out an exasperated sigh before standing up from the table and making their way toward the door.

I quietly pad along behind them and grab their coat from the hook next to our front door.

I help them get one arm and then the other into the sleeves. I slowly spin them around to face me and grab a scarf from another hook.

“Good luck, Bug.” I whisper as I wrap the scarf around their neck.

Using the leftover length from the scarf, I pull them in closer to me.

I slowly press featherlight kisses along their cheekbones before capturing their lips with mine.

I let go of the scarf and wrap my arm around them, completely closing the distance between our bodies.

They pull back from me, running their nose up the column of my throat,

“We could skip the scavenger hunt, Josh.”

They pant out breathlessly before nipping at my earlobe.

“As lovely as that sounds, I have to decline,” I press one final kiss to their pouting lips, ignoring the growing pressure in my pants.

“Now, get a move on. We don’t have all day.”

I use the towel I’d slung over my shoulder to wipe off the sweat that had accumulated on my palms. With my freshly baked sugar cookies now out of the oven and sitting on the cooling rack, I can’t tell whether the excess energy I have is rooted in excitement or nerves.

Though the outcome of this evening absolutely would change my life, for better or worse, I refuse to let myself dwell on all of the ways this scenario can potentially play out. Instead, I pull my phone from my pocket and swipe into my messages, trying to gauge what time Quinn would be home.

They texted me, “got to clue number 3!” At 1:45 pm, about 15 minutes ago, which means everything is right on track. I should have roughly 3 hours to set everything up before they walk through our front door.

Quinn is typically way too clever for my clues to stump them. They’re usually done and back home with their little Christmas present in tow within an hour and a half of getting the first clue.

So, it makes me indescribably happy to know that everything is going according to plan this year.

I crack a small smile and shoot off a quick “We still on for 5?” To Sam.

Then I busy myself with the last little bit of my preparations.

I hear a knock at the door at 4:59 PM as I am adding the final touches to my cookies.

I make my way to the front door, eagerly welcoming Sam and his girlfriend into my home.

“You look very domestic, Josh,” Willa lets out a small laugh, giving my outfit a once-over.

I look down at myself, trying to find what’s funny.

Fuck, the apron…

I smack a hand to my forehead in a perhaps dramatic show of frustration.

“I have to change.” I borderline shout, already making my way through the hallway that attached the kitchen to the rest of the house.

“Dearest brother, are you nervous?” I hear Sam yell after me just as I make it to the bedroom door.

I turn around and chuckle as I see him swipe an extra cookie off the cooling rack.

“Wherever would you get that idea, Sammy boy?”

I slam the door to get my point across.

Of course, I am nervous right now; who wouldn’t be?

“Samuel, leave him alone. This is really important for him; look at how much work he did today.” I hear Willa’s muffled voice chastising Sam.

“I can’t tease my brother?”

“Maybe just save it for after Quinn gets back?” I could practically hear the eye roll that accompanied it.

I take a deep breath before opening the bedroom door and walking back into the kitchen.

“Ah-Alright, I think it’s almost time. P-places, everyone.”

I nervously stutter out as I make my way back to the kitchen counter.

Sam moves into the darkened hallway, leaving his partner with me in the kitchen.

I hear the click of her camera as I arrange the decorated cookies on the plate in front of me.

I grabbed Willa’s hand and mouthed a quick “Thank You” as she scurried into her spot in the corner of the foyer.

Not long after Sam and Willa are properly hidden, I hear the sound of our front door opening.

I quickly get into position in the kitchen, down on one knee with the plate in hand as Quinn makes their way into the house.

Click!

“Ha-ha! Josh very funny. Now, where is it?”

I suck in a breath and try to remain quiet as I listen to Quinn shake the snow from their boots and hang their coat and scarf back on the rack.

“JOSH! I know you’re here. These little scavenger hunts always lead me to a present, and this one led me back here, so where is —“

They turn into the kitchen, and the rest of their sentence dies on their tongue as their eyes flit between the plate and me, then back again.

Will You Marry Me? Written out across star-shaped cookies that sit carefully arranged around an open ring box.

Click!

“Hi, Bug. I missed you.” I spoke, barely above a whisper.

They’re still trying to comprehend what exactly they walked into, and I do not do well with uncomfortable silences. Not well at all.

“I know we usually make cookies together; it’s kind of one of our things, but I think you’ll understand why I had to make ‘em myself this time. I left some undecorated ones that we can do together if this goes well. But oh GOD, if it doesn’t go well, I might throw myself off —“

My rambling is cut off by Quinn rocketing themself into my arms.

Most of my breath is knocked out of me with the force of it, and whatever air is left in my lungs gets stolen when Quinn plants their lips firmly to mine.

Click!

“Yes. Yes, you goober.” They capture my lips again.

“Oh. ‘M glad.” I very eloquently managed to get out between soft kisses.

They pull back from me, cupping my face between their hands. Their thumbs gently rubbing soothing patterns into my skin.

“Is this why all the clues were our secret spots from our first year?”

I gently nod,

“Wanted you to remember where we started, to think about how far we’ve come.”

They let their hands fall behind my neck and melt into my embrace.

“I figured I had a better chance at convincing you to do life with me, in a more permanent way, if I took you down memory lane first.”

We sit there, holding each other in contented silence for a moment before separating so I can gently slide the emerald and moonstone band on their finger.

Click!

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together, Starlight,” Quinn chokes out, looking down at our still-clasped hands, throat tight with unshed tears.

“Nor can I, my dear. You’re all I’ve wanted for as long as I’ve known you.” They wrap their arms around me and pull me in for another kiss before leaning in and whispering into my ear,

“Even in forever, our perpetual endeavor to love and be loved, I’ll love you.”

I sigh and pull them close for another heated kiss, sliding my tongue between their lips and drinking them in before pulling apart to rest my forehead against their’s.

“Thank you, thank you for choosing me.”

“I’ll always choose you, Josh. We belong to each other in all ways that matter.”

“I love you to the ends of this earth, Bug. Merry Christmas”

Click!

I turn around and signal for Sam and Willa to come out of their hiding spots.

“Sam, Willa. Thank you for your help, but please get the fuck out of our house right now.”

“Don’t have to tell us twice,” Sam fake-gags as he makes his way to Willa’s side.

Willa’s eyes meet mine as she gives me a quick wink before shoving Sam and not-so-quietly whispering something that sounds a hell of a lot like,

“I swear I can’t take you anywhere!”

“Anyway! Thank you for trusting us with your special moment. Josh, Quinn: Congratulations, you know where to find us if you need photographers for the big day.”

Willa grips Sam by the arm and all but drags him out of the kitchen.

The final click we hear comes from the sound of the front door shutting, leaving us to enjoy each other in peace.

Masterlist | Taglist

[ronearoundblindly]

I'm literally coming up with so many ideas that my head keeps flashing me with new images of best friend Ari x reader

This is one of them:

I CAN'T get over the scene where reader slaps on the table to gain twittle brother's attention🤣🤣 (btw they actually give me a little Weasley twin vibe bc of their bickering) so my brain offered me a clip where reader is being furious, possibly towards a handful of people, Ari included. When reader is holding a stern face and says something like: "this is unbearable!" Ari wants to soothe her temper, trying to soft-talk reader. He only finishes the first part of his sentence, when reader shoots him a death-glare: "Uh-uh. Don't even try. You are part of this too MISTER."

and Ari gives the rest of them an expression that reads "sorry, tried my best, you're on your own"

I love this. All of this. P.S. the kitten has claws in this one. Reader lashes out. She is feisty. Warnings for language, arguing, and implied intention of violence, mostly for humor. (Headcanon format because I'm lazy.)

Temper

You show up at the house after a long day to find Ari working on painting the 'dining room' (you're not sure if you'll get a whole dining set for in there yet).

He's got headphones on, so you don't bother him. He hasn't noticed you're home.

Then you hear a bang from behind you, from the other end of the house, down the hall with the bedrooms.

Voices--familiarly childish voices--argue with each other.

"Your fault." "No! This is your fucking fault."

What are Dimitri and José doing in your house? What...What have they done to the WALL?

You can peer right through a four-inch hole between the spare bedroom and the hall. A sledgehammer tilts against the hall side presumably because it fell all the way through the hole.

You see Dimitri's wide eyes beyond the crumpled edge of drywall, and he panics.

You had to pass the doorway in order to see the damage, so both men-children get ahead of you racing through the house, shrieking for Ari to save them and you to calm down.

José tries to hide on the other side of Ari but startles your boyfriend so badly that the brush smears paint all the way across José's cheek and into his open mouth.

"The hell is going--"

"These two idiots put a sledgehammer through my wall," you scream, advancing on Dimitri while he too maneuvers to put Ari between you.

Ari swings with the paintbrush again, this time smacking Dimitri in the gut so that his shirt is ruined. "You did what? Honey, I'm sorry. I'll fix--"

"OH NO, MISTER, you brought them into this house--"

"It just happened, honest."

"We were just fooling around."

"Why would you fool around in my house?" Ari booms.

"Shut it, Levinson. This isn't your house yet, and I have half a mind to make you sleep outside. You should have been watching them!"

"We're not kids," Dimitri whines, shifting to the other side of Ari because it's closer to the exit.

You can't even find the words. You barely have oxygen from how hard your whole body clenches in rage.

Ari turns to the boys and just says, "run."

Ari jumps to try and stop you from grabbing one of your friends as they bound out. You get ahold of José's shirt sleeve and yank him back toward you, latching your arms around his neck, attempting to climb onto his back and take him down. Dimitri trips over Ari's toolbox and faceplants into the partial dividing wall to the living room.

Everyone goes silent as Dimitri removes his bracing hand from another hole and then he looks at the dent his skull made right beside it.

"Shit," he whispers softly before the room erupts in shouts again.

"You mother fucker," you howl, shoving yourself off of José, but then Ari has you by the waist. All you can do is flail at Dimitri as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum scurry away.

"I gotcha, kid," Ari keeps repeating as you hurl obscenities at their retreating car. "I'm gonna handle it. I swear. Take a breath, woman."

A full week later, you sit at your usual table at the bar across from two tentative (and scared shitless) men.

"You two are doing all of the yard work at my place this whole summer."

After a quick glance between each other, they nod.

"And you--" you turn to Ari who stops mid-swig of his drink "--are building me a She-Shed. One off-limits to all dudes."

[Main Masterlist]

Anybody have a name idea for this series? I got nothing so far. Just having a blast writing it.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Fifteen — A Surface Memory

I sorta froze; this was the history I knew. My life, the bits with Mom? It stopped here, on this page, and yet we had barely made a dent in the photo album. Why was the idea of turning the page so daunting?

Dad wrapped one arm around my shoulder, the other coming into view as it slowly turned the page. 

5k words | 20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Continuation on the mentions of loss, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Complications, Surgery, Drugs, Gangs, Terrorism, Mass Casualty. Not like, all at once or deeply described, but definitely mentioned. Imagine if that all happened at once, jfc

I turned the page again, this section surprisingly different; the photos were of Mom and some dude with a blue mohawk, all a bit rough at the edges; like they were old, but well preserved. Mom’s pink hair was still there, but she didn’t look as…edgy, I guess. Plain shirts and simple earrings and stuff. “This is Abbs and her brother,” Dad clarified for me. 

Brent, the first Brent. 

I didn’t know a lot about him at all. I imagine that was intentional, another thing Dad had to hide. “Did you know him?” I asked.

Dad shook his head. “He died before everything, even before your mom was a DUP prisoner.”

“How?” 

Dad suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “I…” he trailed off, biting at his lip. “Gang war bullshit.”

Oh. 

I mean, Dad said Mom had a history with drugs and the Akurans, but were they actually involved with that stuff? Not just victims? “Your mom had a hard start to life,” Dad started gently, as if reading my mind. “Had to…run away when she was a kid, ‘cause her parents were trying to turn her in for being a Conduit. Brent had taken her and ran and they…well, they had to survive somehow, you know?” 

“They were gonna give her to the DUP?” I whispered. 

Dad nodded. “It was worse back then than it is now,” 

And that’s saying something, ‘cause it was still pretty fucking bad. 

But they bought into the propaganda and were actually going to turn Mom in! How could a parent do that to their kid? “Were they gonna turn Brent in too?” I asked.

Dad hummed, confused at my question before realizing what I meant. “Oh, no, Brent wasn’t a Conduit. Just Abbs.” 

I knew there was some genetic explanation to becoming a Conduit; something about both parents needing to have a recessive gene — and even then there was only, like, a 1 in 1,000 chance of a child being a Conduit. The fact that both Brent — my Brent — and I were Conduits was a lucky draw. 

Or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it. 

“So he—“ I faltered, looking down at the picture of Uncle Brent using Mom as an armrest, sat on some kind of retainer wall. “He ran away with her? Or to protect her?” 

Dad shrugged. “Both.”

“Oh, wow,” I whispered. He didn’t look that much older than Mom — he had to only have like, three years on her, max. And if she left as a kid…there was a good chance Brent was one, too. A kid, a normal kid, who threw away a comfortable life for his sister. But…when those Akurans kidnapped me, and I had those three minutes where I thought Brent was the only Conduit out of the two of us…I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same. I was totally willing to, in fact — it’s why that gun was on my temple in the first place. 

I turned the page; this next section time hopped forward, summer on the trees just in front of the house. Mom and Dad were next to an old white truck, the back full of stuff covered with a tarp and strapped down. Next to it was Mom, a shaky shot, sitting reclined in an old leather chair, staring at a TV above the fireplace. “I was really excited to move her in,” Dad said. “Y’know, not just because she’d be there but…it was the first time she really had a home since she was a kid. She deserved something stable.” 

Another page, and another flash forward; Mom’s brown roots were taking over her hair, and she sat on a bench at the patio of the Longhouse, leaned back, arms protectively caressing a decent-sized bump. Another one had Dad sitting beside her and they just…stared off into the Sound. “I managed to get Betty to sneak quite a few pics because—“ he motioned towards the pile of books on his side, “—you saw my mom’s stuff. She’s barely in it. I wanted Abbs to be in pictures more,” 

Well, Dad had quite the foresight, then. 

Next page was something Dad called a gender reveal, something that died off a few years ago. Not that there were many people in the photograph; I could pinpoint like, three of Dad’s friends I already met, some girls I didn’t know. That old lady that gave me pads was there, and one caught Dr. Sims hiding off on the side away from everyone else. They were in the recreational room of the Longhouse, I saw it when I walked by it to go to the bathroom. One of just Mom and Dad, a big group one, a few of them milling. Flipping the page came with the actual reveal, blue confetti everywhere on the wood floor beside Mom and Dad. “You guys really thought I was a boy,” 

Dad laughed. “Like I said, Brent was the only one to ‘show the goods,’ so we had to assume.”

“That had to be a surprise,” I commented, turning the page to a baby shower feature. Everything was blue, including every piece of clothing they got. 

“What?” 

“Me, coming out a girl.” I looked up at him. “Was it weird?” 

Dad chuckled. “Weird? No. A surprise? Oh yeah,” his laughter grew. “Your mom thought they brought back the wrong kid at first,” 

“What?” 

Dad nodded, flipping the page; this one was a selfie of sorts, Dad holding up a peace sign with Mom glowering behind him in a hospital bed, the captioning explaining something about inducing labor. “You’ve gotta remember; she had surgery. It…” the laughter suddenly evaporated. “This went bad. I wasn’t even allowed in when they wheeled her to the operating room. Just got shown you two before they took you to the NICU. She wasn’t awake to see you two come out.” 

That shadow crossed his face again, that dark one when he was reliving something that involved loss. And I hadn’t realized it before, simply ‘cause I never really thought of it; if Mom had an emergency surgery, that meant it was an emergency. Could we have died, all three of us? 

Maybe that’s why this page only had the one picture. 

Dad turned the page again, two porty little potatoes wrapped up in white baby blankets, shoved under some giant warming light. They had tubing in their nose, wires sprouting from their blankets like growths on spuds. “Your mom…you know what a placenta is, right?” I nodded — I took health class. “She had an abruption. It…there was so much blood, and the heartbeat reads on both of you just took a nosedive. There wasn’t even any warning to it — one moment we were watching this zombie show and then she was gone for surgery. I only got a glimpse at you both before they took you to get oxygen.” He breathed shakily, rubbing a hand on his knee in an effort to rid himself of the nervous energy. “But after a few hours in the NICU, they figured you guys were okay,”

“But we did have to be taken care of?” I asked, pointing to the picture.

“For like, four hours. But I got to be there after finding out if your mom was okay,” 

“Ah, made sure Mom knew her other boy wasn’t switched out.” 

He smiled a bit. “Took some convincing but, yeah,” 

There were a couple other snapshots of these little babies, barely distinguishable from each other. Funny, for a few moments, we really did look like twins; fat noses and fat faces and fat. Just fat. Was it normal for babies to look so squished? I was the slightest bit darker, that’s literally all that was different. That and the giant weird red mark on Brent’s forehead. 

I turned the page again, greeted with the familiar face of Mom and Dad holding Brent and I, the same photograph Dad kept on his desk. The other page had some souvenir birth certificates from some hospital called Swedish, that same cursive on the wall in the nursery writing out my and Brent’s full name…with the last name Walker–Rowe. 

“We weren’t always Rowland, were we?” I asked, as if the proof wasn’t right there. 

Dad shook his head. “Your mom and I had a deal: hyphenated last name, and she’d be willing to change it if we ever got married.” 

Rowland was probably a part of the witness protection program thing we had going on. Keep us hidden, safe. I definitely didn’t plan to ask, at least; the shadow was still on his face, and I didn’t want to make him spiral any further. 

 I sorta froze; this was the history I knew. My life, the bits with Mom? It stopped here, on this page, and yet we had barely made a dent in the photo album. Why was the idea of turning the page so daunting?

Dad wrapped one arm around my shoulder, the other coming into view as it slowly turned the page. 

Mom was there, there for the trip home from the hospital and the Akomish Naming Ceremony, something Betty dressed up in full traditional garb for. There to hand one of us in a bundle of blankets over to Dr. Sims, there in the next pic laughing as he reacted to being spit up on. There for the sudden influx of pink clothes that she happily mixed with the masculine blues before forcing my chubby little appendages into them. There rocking Brent to sleep, there feeding me a bottle. Dad was there too, don’t get me wrong; there was a sweet one with him asleep on this very couch, me laid on his chest with some sort of headband-bow around my impossibly small head. But Mom. 

Mom was there. 

We got older, grew out of the awkward doughboy look and into actual, distinguishable babies. Brent started out blonde, surprisingly, and darkened rather quickly over the weeks. He matched Mom’s brown by the time he began pulling up to stand, propped up against furniture. I browned out a bit more from birth, never straying too far from Dad’s side once I started crawling. “You remember S’mores? How she’d always shove herself under our feet when we were walking in the kitchen?” Dad asked, and I nodded. I missed that cat. “You were like that with me when you learned to crawl.” 

My cheeks heated up. “I was a bit needy, wasn’t I?” 

Dad chuckled, “Oh, yeah,”

Once Brent and I got a handle on walking, though, the pictures changed drastically; anything with Brent always seemed to be mid-motion, snapshots of him running around like a miniature tornado while ones of me were more calm yet just as chaotic, on top of a kitchen table or under somewhere that looked impossible to reach. “You weren’t as energetic as Brent, but god you were a Houdini.” Dad laughed, shaking his head. “We had Betty babysit Brent once to just watch you and make sure there wasn’t anything Conduit you were doing to get wherever you wanted.”

I turned the page again, this time to one of me on the fridge. On the fridge, like atop it, standing in that space between the top of the fridge and the ceiling. “You guys had to study me to make sure I wasn’t using random powers?” 

“Yeah. Turns out you’re just smart and don’t stop until you get what you want. Like the toy I put on the fridge to stop you and Brent fighting. You used the kitchen cabinets as stairs.” 

Ah, that’s what that weird thing in my hand was.

Next set was of a birthday party, just Betty in attendance with Mom and Dad, stock little safari animals decorating the living room. The Christmas tree was still up, paper streamers wrapped around the branches in place of ornaments and with presents under it wrapped in paper that screamed HAPPY BIRTHDAY in bold. “Is this where the birthday tree came from?” I asked. We always kept our Christmas tree up till January 18th, the bottom of the tree holding bigger presents while the branches would hold smaller things like paint brushes or video game cases or gift cards. It was one of my favorite traditions.

“We were just lazy,” Dad shrugged. “You try finding time to put up Christmas stuff when you’ve got Brent learning how to open the front door and you trying to pull everything out of the kitchen cabinets to hide in them.”

Yeah we were definitely why he was graying fast at 44. 

“But yes, your Mom and I talked about doing it after getting you two to bed that night,” Dad added. “I wanted…it didn’t hurt to keep the idea after we moved to Portland, you know?” 

I nodded. A snippet of Mom in our life wasn’t something I was upset to have around. 

The next pages were of the nursery gutted or tarped, Mom handing Brent a paintbrush while visibly holding me back from trying to eat some paint out of a bucket. Nice. Glad that’s a memory now. The wall was tarped too save for a cut out square, the elephant’s canvas in it. “So you made it before we were born?” I asked, Dad nodding. I looked back at the pictures, the next one a close up on Mom. 

The smile began to slip off my face; Mom, she…she didn’t look the same. I mean yeah it looked like Mom but I hadn’t noticed her skin was a bit gray, cheeks seeming to become sullen. She looked sick. There was life in her eyes that didn’t match her body, but she just didn’t look right. 

This had to be what Dad was talking about. Whatever our birth did to her was starting to become obvious.

I flipped the pages, ignoring a lot of what we were doing more so to track how Mom declined; her arms got a bit skinnier, her collarbones more pronounced. There were less pictures of her in action with us and more of her sitting or laying down. There were quite a few pics of her with little wrappings on her elbows, the after effects of a blood draw or something. She…she looked like she was on borrowed time. If the Akurans never got to her, would she have lived anyways? She didn’t even have the energy to keep up with the dye in her hair, the brown roots coming back with a vengeance. She took to wearing baggier tees as summer returned and I wondered if that was to hide that she lost weight. S’mores was suddenly there, a Burmese kitten that looked like a toasted marshmallow, Mom holding her as if she’d melt away in her hands. “S’mores was Mom’s cat?” 

Dad nodded. “I got S’mores for her as a late birthday gift. You guys were not nice to her—“ he pointed to a picture of me with my hand on her head in a bad pet, S’mores glowering but otherwise unmoving, “—but she was a great cat. Let you do almost anything to her, and would only swipe if you pushed too far.” 

“She never used her claws,” I commented, remembering all the feverish little rapid patpatpatpatpat smacks she’d hit me with when I tried shoving her in doll clothes. She’d smack me, run to Dad yowling, and I’d get in trouble — but she never hurt me. I never even heard her hiss till her cancer got bad when we were 13. 

Dad was torn up when S’mores died, and now I got why; it was another piece of Mom, ripped away. 

There were Fourth of July pictures featuring only Dad and Betty, Mom missing from the festivities at the Longhouse. Betty playing with me, Dad holding Brent’s hand more to keep him in place than anything as they walked the shore of the Sound — but no Mom. Mom was on the next page, wrapped up in bed with Brent and Me under her arms, all three of us having some sort of movie night where she managed to placate us two into stillness. There was a little bit more color in her face, but it could have also been from the blush she gave the camera, caught by Dad. One beside it was Brent and I now fully active on the bed, chasing around a pink light that overexposed our faces on camera — but it didn’t erase the joy. Not at all. 

Next page was a cute family one, Mom and Dad wrangling Brent and I down respectively, posed on the front steps of the Longhouse. Another one of Betty losing her grip on us, but nonetheless laughing, reaching out to try to snatch Brent back up before he could run too far as I was slung over her shoulder, looking back at the camera and laughing. 

There weren’t any other pictures on the opposite side, nor the rest of the book as I flipped through. The memories stopped there on the Longhouse stairs. “That’s the day I proposed to your mom,” Dad said sadly. “Betty wanted a picture when we came back in celebration.” 

And a week later, Mom would be dead. 

I sniffed, trying to push back the tears. I had so many emotions flowing through me, all touched with a twinge of sadness. Mom was here. On this couch, in this house, at some point — and I had proof. I could sprint outside right now and scream to the heavens that I had a Mom, that she loved me and I had proof! It was right here in this old album, which I subconsciously brought closer to my chest as I closed it, breathing shakily. 

Dad’s arm on my shoulder tightened a bit in a side hug, drawing me closer into his side. “You okay?” He asked gently. 

I nodded rather feverishly, sniffing again. “Yeah, I…” I gripped the book tighter, like if I squeezed it hard enough it’d hug back. “She knew us.” I whispered. 

“Hm?” 

I tried to raise my voice higher, but couldn’t. I may as well have been vapor, the way it suddenly vanished. Everything welled up in my chest, trying to shove its way out. 

Dad’s hand rubbed against my arm softly, and he breathed deeply before saying, “She loved you. Both of you, and it’s been hard keeping these memories from you two because you deserve to know how much she loved you.”

Tears began escaping without my consent. God, I didn’t think I could cry anymore today. Dad’s other arm came around to grab me fully and I couldn’t hold back anymore, pain and joy and sadness all flooding out on choked sobs as I cried. I even felt Dad’s breathing shake, his nose sniff — he joined at some point, but never stopped consoling me. Didn’t worry about anything but how I was doing, keeping a hold on me even as I pulled out of the hug, throat raw. 

He let the silence hang as I composed myself, trying to steady my breathing and get those embarrassing hiccups to stop. I let the book rest on my lap again, freeing my hands so I could pull the sleeves of my shirt over them and wipe my face dry. Weird, you’d think the powers would deal with them. 

Dad’s thumb was rubbing a gentle pattern into my bicep, and I tried to force my breathing to match the rhythm of his movements somehow. “She was really happy you were a girl, by the way. After the whole scare that you got swapped out and stuff, she actually was so happy she cried. Something about not being surrounded by testosterone,” 

I snorted, the sound gross because of my congestion. Yeah, sometimes it sucked being in a house full of boys, I probably would have been relieved too. 

“Brent needs to see this,” I eventually said, my voice a harsh croak that required me to cough to even it back out. 

“He will,” Dad promised. “I’ll show him tomorrow at some point.” Dad then sighed hard, giving me a slight bit of room as he went from squeezing into me to leaned back on the couch. “How was he?” 

I shrugged. “He…upset. I missed whatever fit he threw, but that construction site is completely unusable now.” 

Dad blinked, looking down at me. “Really?” 

I explained what I saw, how absolutely destroyed the site and surrounding trees were — but Dad didn’t look surprised. In fact he hummed, as if it was a curious outcome. “I’ll have to talk to him about it. I think I might know what happened,” 

“Tommy just—“ I sputtered a moment, trying to find the words. “How could he? Not exactly being pro-Conduit is one thing but he sold you out! After everything!” 

Dad stared into the fire, which really needed a stoke, thinking. “You know, when we left here and I became Damion and everything, I sort of thought that…maybe it was a good thing. I was scared of what being Abigail Walker and Delsin Rowe’s kids was going to do to you two. Not even the death threats or the stalking or the harassment but…stuff like this, with Tommy. Especially when I thought you two were normal, I felt like I made the right move. That maybe we should have done it earlier.” 

What would that have done? Tommy would still be prejudiced, we’d still be Conduits, Dad would still be Delsin Rowe. Mom probably would have died from whatever made her sick. “We shouldn’t have to hide,” I huffed. “It’s not fair! I mean, why is it so wrong that we’re Conduits? You know how much good we could do?” 

“People are scared of what they don’t understand,” Dad said sadly. “And with Empire City and the Plague and Augustine’s stunts — they have reason to be scared. They’re worried they can’t protect themselves.” 

“They don’t need to protect themselves! It’s not like we’re hunting them for sport.” I scoffed. “And even if something happens, I mean — doesn’t it feel safer to have a Conduit help?” 

Dad was giving me a weird look, like he was analyzing all I left unsaid. Probably to chastise me for the curse words I was keeping out. “Jeanie, I want you to think back to when those Akurans had you. You couldn’t do a thing to safely get out of that situation, right?” 

I nodded, the idea of that day enough to cause knots in my stomach. Even after it all, the only reason I got away from his gun was because I turned to water in his arms. If I wasn’t a Conduit, or if I didn’t form powers then…would I even be alive? 

“That fear is what everyone has about Conduits. Guns and stuff can only do so much. If someone shoots at us, we can dodge or block it — and we heal fast. What’s to stop us from killing them?” 

Not much. 

“But we aren’t killers, Dad! You’re not, me and Brent aren’t, and none of those Conduits in COLE were either.” 

Dad’s soft smile he gave me was weird, sort of like he…felt sorry for me? “There’s a lot more to this than you know, Jean. It’s not always that easy.” 

Then fucking make it easy, Dad! I’m not a child anymore, I’m 99% adult and you can tell me what you really think instead of hiding behind the ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’ excuse. 

That’s what I wanted to say. Instead I sort of huffed under my breath and looked at the fire, grabbing the poker to stab at it a bit. 

A few embers shot out from my poking, and I watched them flitter down to the cold tile that lined the edge of the fireplace, dying midair before they could even hit the ground. My mind wasn’t on the argument I wanted to start with Dad at all anymore, but the absolute tragedy that happened earlier. “Dad?” He hummed. “Did…is it still at nineteen?” 

His hand came up from its lax position, running over his face. “Yeah. Didn’t go up, but there’s a couple people in critical condition,” 

So it could change. 

“So…how many of them did you know?” 

Dad’s eyes didn’t leave the fire, the flames haunting him as if he watched COLE explode in person. “All of them.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. 19 acquaintances or friends gone, snuffed out like those embers. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. 

“There’s a vigil tomorrow,” Dad said. “Got an email about it. They’ve kept me on the email chains just in case I…” he shook his head as if resetting the thought, trying again with, “I hope they stay safe about it. Another big gathering isn’t the best idea.” 

The thought came to me, and left my tongue just as quickly: “You should be there.” 

Dad turned to look at me like I just ate ash out of the fireplace for a midnight snack. “What?” 

There was a brief second where I thought about shaking my head and saying ‘never mind’ — but there wasn’t a good enough reason not to. We didn’t have the liberty of reasoning anymore. “You should go. They — the Conduits need a voice right now and I know Dr. Sims is there but it’s—“ I shrugged, finishing lamely with, “It’s not you.” 

“Jeanie, I need to make sure you two stay safe—“

“Dad,” I cut him off, pulling out of his embrace to face him fully. He blinked, surprised by how serious I was being. “I don’t think we can hide anymore. It didn’t work, anyways — they found us. And besides, staying silent right now is admitting it’s the truth. They know you’re Delsin, and they know about me and Brent. There’s video and Tommy is ratting us out anyways so it isn’t like we can just pretend things are okay.” I thought back to that one on one I had with Betty on the patio; maybe she did know what she was talking about. “COLE was just blown up and I don’t — maybe if we did something no one would have died—“

“Jean—“ 

“But we can’t just leave them to fend for themselves! They need you. Not Sims, not some other guy, not the politicians, but the man they credit for freeing them. I don’t think anyone but Delsin Rowe can fix this.” 

Dad shook his head. “I’m not — Jean, this isn’t one of those comics you want to write. I can’t be that guy, I just care about you and your broth—“ 

“But you are.” I stressed, a few seconds away from dropping to my knees in a plea. “You’re that guy to them. I thought you were that guy too: you didn’t have to help them, but you did, and that’s what they care about. That’s why they need you. And I know you care, Dad! You wouldn’t have made COLE if you didn’t.” 

He looked at me for so long I eventually dropped my vision to my hands, chickening out of the staring contest. But it’s the truth: he should be there. For the people he knew, for the ones he helped. Everyone knew Delsin Rowe was alive, and it was too late to shove that fact back into its little box. We did have a choice, and ours was probably more important than any other average Conduit, because I fully believed Dad’s involvement could change the tides. 

“You really think that?” Dad finally asked, just above a whisper. I looked up; he was still staring, the ghosts of a thousand fears and the shadows of a dozen emotions crossing his face. 

“Yeah,” I answered with no hesitation. “I think they need you again.” 

Dad breathed deeply, squinting his eyes shut like the action hurt him. “I don’t want to leave you two alone, but I can’t take you back there right now,”

“We aren’t alone,” I shrugged. “Betty can babysit us so you know we aren’t drinking.” 

“Oh I’m not worried about that,” Dad suddenly chuckled. “You have a super high metabolism now. You’ll need to drink an entire handle to feel a buzz.” 

“What?” 

Dad’s stare tried to be disapproving, but cracked under the amusement. “You could pretend to not be so heartbroken, y’know,” but that pensiveness came back, and Dad went quiet. 

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. What could I say? I couldn’t force him there, and it definitely didn’t look like he was ready to decide what to do. 

So instead I shifted to lean against him again, grabbing the photo album and asking, “Do you remember anything about these pictures? Like, what was going on that day?” 

I didn’t look at Dad, but I could tell he was caught off guard by the sudden change in topic as he said, “Y-yeah, a few of them, why?” 

“Tell me about them?” 

For a moment, Dad tensed, and I was sure he was gonna shrug me off and tell me to just go to bed. But then he shifted, leaned into the couch so I fit more to his chest and opened the album like it was a storybook. “So it’d been…almost two months since I heard from your Mom — there were so many interviews with the FBI and Reggie’s funeral and Curdun Cay that we barely got a moment of peace. Didn’t even really say a proper goodbye to each other. But one day she called and asked if I was still close to Seattle, if I’d meet her at the warehouse where she sorta kicked my ass…” 

I fell asleep there, the rumbles of Dad’s chest becoming a white noise as I listened to him explain a past I was only becoming acquainted with. 

[imaginecolby]

dinner date || c.b.

summary: after a couple of mistaken food deliveries, colby finally takes it upon himself to invite you over for dinner.

imagine colby is still in an apartment, but much less of a recluse.

you and colby had been neighbors for a few months now. you’d seen each other in passing, coming and going at different times of day. you’d run into each other at the mail boxes, or he’d stop to say hi during his walks when he saw you with your dog. your dog he actually knew a little bit better than you, as he would sometimes talk to him while sitting out on the balcony. 

you came home one afternoon, after running some errands, when you saw a Chipotle bag outside your front door.

“i don’t even eat chipotle.” you thought to yourself before leaning down to pick it up. you read the tag and saw that it had colby’s name on it. you picked it up and walked it over to his door.

“hey (y/n)! what’s up?” he asked after answering the door.

“lunch time?” you asked handing him the bag. “i guess they got the numbers mixed up again.” 

“oops, sorry about that.” he said, taking the bag from you.

“no worries, it’s not your fault. i’m just glad it wasn’t someone all the way across the complex this time.” you laughed.

“yeah, that was an adventure trying to find those people.” he agreed.

“well, hope you enjoy your lunch. have a good rest of your day.” you said, giving him a wave before walking back to your apartment.

this slowly became a tradition of yours, the other having to take numerous food deliveries to the other’s apartment. it was probably once every few weeks, sometimes a whole month between, but it was funny nonetheless. as doordash and postmates continuously got new drivers, you didn’t mind the mix ups, especially considering you and colby were directly next door.

one night in particular, you came home to a very large number of bags at your door step. you recognized the smell to be chinese food, and it made your stomach rumble. you double checked the receipt to make sure you knew where you were taking it. you picked up the bags and walked over to colby’s, lightly kicking the door, since your hands were full.

“dinner time.” you said, lifting up the bags.

“god dammit, i was really hoping this one wouldn’t get delivered to your door. i went a little overboard tonight.” he said, his cheeks flushing, embarrassed by the amount of bags you had to take over to him.

“no worries.” you said as he grabbed the bags from you. “i hope you enjoy. it smells really good.”

“yeah, it’s from that new place that just opened up by the walmart.” 

“oh, yeah! i remember seeing the menu when they brought them by. they did have a lot of really good sounding entrees.” you said.

“hey, you wanna join me for dinner? like i said, i went a little overboard and there’s plenty to share.” he said. “you can bring your dog over if you don’t wanna leave him alone.” 

“would you mind if i feed him over here? he hasn’t had dinner yet.” you asked, and he shook his head.

“not at all. we can all enjoy dinner together.” he said. you gave him a smile and nodded.

“then we’d love to join you for dinner. we’ll be right over.” you said.

“perfect. i’ll set the table.” colby flashed you a smile before going back inside. you walked back over to your apartment, grabbing your dog, his bowl, and some food. you walked with him back to colby’s apartment. you got your dog set up for dinner, and you joined colby at the table to eat. 

you and colby ended up enjoying a nice and peaceful dinner together, getting to know each other much deeper than surface level.

he told you all about him and sam and what they do as paranormal investigative youtubers, why they decided to move out of LA and to las vegas instead. you told him about your job and your further career aspirations. you told each other jokes, shared stories about your families and friends. even shared a few embarrassing drunk stories of nights out at house parties and clubs. 

it wasn’t often you opened up to someone in this capacity, especially someone that you barely knew. but something about the energy that colby radiated that made you so inexplicably comfortable. it was as if the two of you had been best friends for years, the way that you spoke with each other. 

this evening was shaping up to be the start of what you hoped turned out to be a great friendship

[sightoru]

—𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐩

➳ pairing: Touya Todoroki x Fem!Reader

➳ genre: fluff, smut

➳ word count: 3.8k

➳ tags: mutual pining, Dabi is Bad at Feelings, Soft Dabi, mending wounds.

➳ synopsis: You find yourself staying up late at night, wondering if Dabi will show up on your doorstep asking to be patched up yet again.

➳ warnings: injury and blood (nothing gory), codependent relationship (but make it cute), fingering (fem receiving), praise kink, soft dabi w/ very consensual sex, unprotected sex,

➳ authors note: aaaaa patched up. my very first fic. this version is reworked to suit my newer style but i still am v sentimental about it. i always debate changing the title but i always end up keeping it. this is a repost from my old blog

➳ excerpt:

“It’s my favorite show.” You tell him quietly as you sit down on the couch next to him. He clears his throat when he sees you, shifting his eyes to the floor. It’s when you notice the pinpricks of blood on his chest, seeping lightly through the white t-shirt he has on. You gesture with a nod for him to take it off. He pulls the fabric off, pain contorting his face into a grimace. The staples holding the skin on his chest are slightly agape. Cuts and bruises all over his body making him look like a nebula of pain.

“What did you do?” You ask him, knowing that it’s pointless. Knowing he’ll spare you.

“Fell.” He tells you with finality.

You weren’t sure exactly how Dabi found you, but you couldn’t find it in you to be mad that he did.

You stared at him, the question of what happened resting on the tip of your tongue before deciding that now is not the time.

The scarred man drinks in his surroundings, his long arm holding the opposite one as he tries to keep the staples clasping his skin together from separating. His cerulean eyes are moving everywhere, from the coffee table cluttered with magazines you don’t read, the dusty tv stand full of movies you’ve seen a million times, over to the kitchen where the sink is loaded with coffee cups and plates. You figure that it’s not you, per se, that’s making him look so on edge. He’s always been someone that has to look out for himself. His attitude is much like a cornered alley cat.

You walk over, moving the nest of soft blankets to the opposite side of the couch and motion for him to sit down.

“I’m going to get my first aid kit,” you say to him, walking to your bathroom. When you come out he’s staring at the bookshelf, running his thin and worn fingers down the bindings of your favorite books. “Dabi,” you call out to him, he turns to you, his eyes flashing in surprise. “Sit.” You ask, half demanding, the other half pleading.

He walks over quietly, body lazily plopping on the couch as his face contorts in thinly veiled pain. You lay towels behind him, an effort to keep blood off your couch. Your grandma gave it to you. It’s an effort to keep what little you have nice. You gently touch the arm holding his wound together, looking at him with a silent request to move it. He stares at you, lips turned in a slight frown that reeks of distrust but what else can he do?

“What happened….?” You ask in a whisper, disinfecting the wound.

“Wrong time, wrong place.” You look at him as he looks away. You know he’s lying. Keeping things from you. Keeping you safe from the harsh reality of who he is. You focus your thoughts on pulling his skin back together.

He seethes in pain every time your nimble fingers pull the skin taut, replacing the staples that were broken with new ones.

“Thank you.” He says when you’re done, looking around your apartment as if he expects someone or something to jump out at him.

“Can I ask you something?” You look at him, staring directly in his eyes as if that’ll actually force the truth out of him. He breaks eye contact first, but nods. “How did you find me?”

“I brought you home that night, remember?” He responds, his voice quiet. Then you remember the man with tired eyes and blue hair.

You remember the way he held onto your arm too tight, the way his eyes looked at you hungrily, and how his touch made your clothing disintegrate. You recall Dabi shouting at him. The way everything hurt after you were let go.

“You fell when he let you go. Hit your head on the concrete. I found your address in your phone, and took you home. Speaking of,” he looks at you, voice low and sultry. He looks almost inviting, as if he’s daring you to come closer. “You need to remember to lock your door, dollface. Anyone could come in here.”

You barely resist the urge to roll your eyes at him.

————————————

You don’t see Dabi again until days later when he’s knocking on your door, a familiar and scared look on his face. You gesture towards the couch where he sat last time, grabbing the first aid kit and towels yet again.

When you come back, you find him silently watching the sitcom you have on. His arms are close to his body. Protecting himself. He’s smirking along with the canned laughter of the audience. You like his smile, you think to yourself. You wonder for a moment how it looks when he’s full on beaming.

“It’s my favorite show.” You tell him quietly as you sit down on the couch next to him. He clears his throat when he sees you, shifting his eyes to the floor. It’s when you notice the pinpricks of blood on his chest, seeping lightly through the white t-shirt he has on. You gesture with a nod for him to take it off. He pulls the fabric off, pain contorting his face into a grimace. The staples holding the skin on his chest are slightly agape. Cuts and bruises all over his body making him look like a nebula of pain.

“What did you do?” You ask him, knowing that it’s pointless. Knowing he’ll spare you.

“Fell.” He tells you with finality.

He angles his body slightly towards you so you can patch him up. Doing everything in his power to avoid touching you. He hisses when a cotton ball touches his wounds. Biting the inside of his cheek as he hyper focuses on the tv. You notice he smells like campfire and cigarettes. You notice you find it comforting.

“You need to watch your step, this had to have been one hell of a fall.” Your tone is light, prodding. He doesn’t fall for it, just keeps his eyes plastered to the tv. You knew he wouldn’t. He’s not dumb. Especially not to your incessant nosiness.

You make quick work of his chest area, refastening staples and bandaging wounds. This time he doesn’t leave immediately after and you’re glad. You sit in a companionable silence. Small chuckles shared between you two as you both watch the show.

4 episodes later and he’s standing up to leave. You have to resist the urge to ask him to stay. You like his company. It’s effortless and soft. You wonder if he feels the same.

Before he leaves this time, he tells you to call him Touya.

——————————

He showed up again a week later, having you patch up scrapes on his face. These ones were easy. You suspect he just wanted to come over. You’re okay with that.

You can feel his breath on your hands as your nimble fingers work at the fleshy part of his cheek. His eyes strain with the effort of looking anywhere but you. When you’re done you lean back, your thumb holding his face as you admire your handiwork. You hear his breath hitch when you touch him. He’s not used to being touched. Not used to soft hands that care instead of hurt. Before you can work up the courage to stroke an inky lock of hair out of his face, the coffee pot beeps.

“Coffee, this late?” Touya asks incredulously, his eyes flickering to the clock showing that it’s 2am.

“Well,” you respond from the kitchen, keeping your back away from him. “You… you always show up late at night. So I’ve been brewing coffee to keep me awake in case you come by.” You add creamer to your mug, watching the way the liquids swirl together. “Do you want any?” You turn but he’s next to you instead of on the couch. You let out a little yelp of surprise, not expecting him to be so close.

He stares at you, brows furrowed and an unreadable expression in his eyes. You shrink under his gaze. Slowly -as if he doesn’t want to scare you- he lifts a hand and moves a strand of hair out of your face, twirling it between his fingers before he lets it go.

“Sure.” He says, voice slightly choked.

“Cream or sugar?” You ask, you tiptoe to reach a mug out of the cabinet, but he grabs it for you.

“Black.” His lips are turned up in the corners as he hands the mug to you.

You try to keep your hand steady as you hand the mug full of coffee to him, refusing to meet his eyes. He follows you back to the couch, and you resume the sitcom you’ve been watching together.

He’s sitting closer to you than he was before, and you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. You try to relax, playing with your fingers as you stare at the tv. You’re not taking in what’s going on. You’ve seen this episode many times.

Your ribs feel too small for your chest when Touya grabs your hand. You look over to him. His eyes are plastered to the tv, pretending nothings going on as he takes a sip from a chipped mug. You take his hand and flip it over, tracing the scars on his palm. His fingers twitch when you do.

He watches 2 episodes with your hand in his before he goes. This time he kisses your hair before he leaves.

————————————

You’re wondering if you should go to bed since it’s almost 5am. It’s been 2 days since Touya came by last. You feel disappointed. You’re trying to figure out why.

You stand up, and drop a forgotten cup of coffee at the sink. As you start to walk to your bedroom you hear a bang, followed by a grunt at your door. Touya collapses on you smelling like blood, smoke and sweat. His weight makes your knees buckle for a moment. Your curse under your breath and catch yourself.

“What happened?” You know it’s pointless to ask but you can’t help yourself. Always asking the same question. Always getting the same answer.

“Overused…...my quirk. Everything.... burns.” He mutters between breaths. You drag him to the bathroom -an impressive feat since he’s bigger than you are- and start running a cold bath for him. You set him on the toilet, and disinfect his burns. He hisses and clenches his teeth as you mutter apologies to him. You try to explain you have to do this. He nods, understanding. It’s painful for you too.

“I’ll be right back, stay here.” You assure him. He looks scared. Vulnerable. A version of Touya that you feel privileged to see. “I’ll be right back.” You say much quieter, gently cupping his cheek. He nods at you, his eyes swimming with hesitant acceptance.

You come back and dump a bucket of ice into the cold bath. Help him take off his burnt clothing. You ease him into the bath, noticing how the bath water tinges with red. You take a washcloth and soap, rubbing away the blood on his body. Wondering if he can rub away pain that’s under the surface. He hums softly while you do, a soft little song only you two will know.

You turn the detachable shower head on, and wash his hair. Scrubbing it gently, detangling his hair with your fingers as you work shampoo into his hair.

“I’m sorry it smells like flowers,” you whisper to him, not sure why you feel like you should apologize. “I don’t have anything else.”

“No,” he says simply. He sounds tired. “I like it..it smells like you.”

You clear your throat as heat crawls up your face. “My brother came to visit a few months ago and left some clothing behind. I’ll get them for you.” You stand up, and he gently grabs your wrist. He looks scared again. “I’ll be right back.” You gently reassure him. He should know you have no intention of leaving. Not if you can help it. You release the plug in the tub.

You come back with sweatpants and a t-shirt and set them on the toilet along with a fresh towel.

“I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” You inform him. As if there’s anywhere else you could be.

You’re sitting on the couch when he comes in. The same sitcom you’ve both been watching playing in the background. You attempt to look like you haven’t been waiting eagerly for him. He lays on the couch, head in your lap and arms tight around your middle. You run your fingers through his hair and he sighs.

“Stay.” You whisper, breath shaking. You don’t know why you’re asking. Why the request scares you. “Please.” He nods as he tightens his grip around you.

“Can we watch that show?” He looks at you, turquoise eyes bright. He looks excited, almost like a child. The sight makes your heart soar.

“Of course.” You giggle. You’ll always be willing to indulge him.

You both watch the show until the sun starts peeping through the blinds in your living room. The sun casting an annoying glare on your tv. You never stop stroking his hair the entire time. Every time you do, Touya grunts and rubs his head on your hand.

You stifle a yawn, trying to stay awake. You don’t want to fall asleep. You’re sure you’ll wake up to him gone.

“You’re tired.” He states, looking up at you. Not really a question. An observation.

“No I’m-” your sentence is cut off by a yawn. Touya grins. It’s bright like you imagined it would be. He sits up, hovering over your lap. His eyes linger on your face. Your breath hitches at how close he is to you. Your heart feels like a hummingbird in your chest. He looks into your eyes, silently asking for consent. You nod.

When he kisses you, he’s gentle. Like a butterfly's wings. He kisses you like you’re porcelain, like he’s scared to break you. When he pulls away, you have to stifle a whine; feeling desperate and needy for him.

“Go to bed, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers into your ear, thin fingers stroking your hair as he leans his head on your cheek. He feels reassuring. Kind. Like holding your favorite blanket after a nightmare.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

——————————-

The next morning when you wake up he’s not in your bed. You panic for a moment, before finding yourself angry. He said he’d stay. He didn’t. He broke his promise. You walk out into the living area, tears brimming your eyes. Touya’s in the kitchen. He looks like he’s been waiting for you all morning.

“You ok, doll?” He looks over at you. He’s doing the dishes. You look around and notice the living room is clean and there’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. “Cream and sugar right?” He smiles at you.

You can’t help it. The tears finally fall from your eyes. Touya notices immediately. Nothing really gets past him. He wraps you in his arms, and you feel warm.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers in your hair, concern leaking out of the edges of his voice.

“N-nothing,” you sob, your chest heaving as pathetic hiccups rack your body. “I-I was j-just s-scared I t-thought you left.”

“Dollface,” he tilts your head up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “A promise is a promise.” He places a chaste kiss on your forehead and playful tap on your nose. You can’t help but smile. He’s always made you feel warm.

You wipe your eyes, scolding yourself internally that you didn’t trust him to stay. He said he would. He’s never lied to you before. Why would he start now?

“Do you want breakfast?” You ask. He nods, and ruffles your hair.

The two of you spend the day watching the sitcom, peppering kisses on each other at least once an episode. It rained today, making the apartment windows fog up. It’s a gentle rain. The kind that forces someone to pull the other close. The kind that feels like healing; the kind that makes the day feel like Sunday. Touya feels like Sunday to you, being with him is lazy and effortless. Easy.

You both managed to get through an entire season today, only leaving the couch for bathroom breaks. When the season ends Toya gets up, and you look at him questioningly. He squats in front of you with a sigh.

“I have to go, but I promise I’ll be back.” He looks heartbroken. Like he doesn’t want to leave. You try to smile at him. To reassure him and let him know you’ll be fine, but for the second time today your eyes are filling with tears. He gives you a gentle kiss on the lips, and his hand cups your cheek.

“Promise?” Your voice cracks.

“Promise.”

“Do you know when you’ll be back?”

“I don’t know, doll.” He says simply. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok?”

“Okay.” You kiss him again, long and slow. Just like Sunday.

——————————————————

It’s 5 days before he comes back. When he opens the door you can’t help jumping on him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He still smells like your shampoo, you realize. The thought makes your heart feel like it’s too big for your chest.

“I missed you too, doll.” He laughs in your hair, his arms wrapped around you tightly. “Aren’t you tired? It’s 3am.”

“I was worried about you.” You sigh into his neck. You release yourself from him, backing up so he can kick his shoes off. You feel giddy. Especially now that you know he won’t run away if you show it.

“Hey,” he grins at you. “I told you I’ll come back, no matter what. I’ll always come back.” He sounds so sure. So firm. It makes you feel sure too.

“Let’s go to bed.” You grab his hand, dragging him to the bedroom.

You both change into sleep clothing silently. There’s never been a need to fill the silence with speaking. You’ve taken to wearing the shirt he came over in the night you bathed him, blood stains removed. It’s comforting. If you close your eyes, it was almost like he never left.

“Is that my shirt?” You hear a teasing lilt in his voice.

“It smells like you.” You respond simply, crawling into bed next to him.

You’re both on your sides, looking at each other. You feel his hand on your waist and he pulls you closer. He kisses you passionately, thumb drawing small circles at your waist. When his tongue slides across your bottom lip, you grant him access, letting him explore the inside of your mouth. Suddenly it’s fast and ruthless, no real method to it, it’s like he’s desperate to claim every part of you. All at once he pulls away, saliva connecting the two of you.

“I want you.” He whispers against your lips, then pulls away farther to look into your eyes. You look away from him, nervous. “Wait… (Y/N), are you a virgin?” You nod. He props himself up on an elbow, and tucks your hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I want to but just…go gentle.” He smiles at you, and you melt.

“At any moment you feel uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop.” He whispers, dropping his below and leveling his eyes with yours. It’s the most serious you’ve ever seen him look. You nod, and he leans in, resuming his kiss.

He moves his lips down to your neck and chest, leaving soft purple galaxies on your body and rewarding your moans and whines with more in the areas you like. You silently wish his marks could be permanent. His hand slides up your t-shirt, grasping at the soft plush of your breasts. His fingers tease your nipples, gentle teases and tugs at them.

You feel his hand slide down to your cunt, moving the slick gathering in your panties. You gasp quietly and he stops, looking at you again for consent. You nod and he pulls your underwear off. He finds your clit immediately, rubbing small circles around it. He’s tender when he sticks his fingers in you, stretching you out before adding the other. Effortlessly finding just the right spot that makes you writhe in pleasure and grasp at the bedsheets. “Good girl.” He mutters with a breathless moan. The praise makes your pussy flutter around his fingers. He quirks an eyebrow at you, looking teasing. “Oooh? You like that, baby? Like being called a good girl?” You nod, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth and unable to speak.

You’re panting soon enough, heat coiling in your stomach as you buck your hips with his fingers as your climax washes over you. He rides it out slowly, whispering praises in your ear and milking every twitch and moan out of you. Never stopping until your body stops twitching. You feel boneless after, warm and blissed. He gently pushes you onto your back, gently shoving his fingers coated with essence in your mouth. You clean them off, wrapping your tongue around his digits as he sighs. “Good fucking girl.” he says again to you.

“Still ok?” He asks quietly, searching your face for any discomfort.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to keep going?”

You bite your lip and nod at him. He pulls his sweatpants down as you pull his shirt off of you. His cock is long, thin with veins running down the sides and a pretty pink tip that’s already leaking pre. He looks at you once again, making sure you really want this. Making sure you really want him. You grab his shoulder and pull him back onto you, wordlessly pulling him into another kiss. He groans as you tangle your hand in his hair, and you sigh at the noises he makes.

“Let me know if it hurts.” He pulls away long enough to tell you, his lips an inch above yours. You nod as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He lines his cock up with your entrance, being as gentle as he can as he bottoms out inside of you with a hiss. It doesn’t hurt, just makes you feel full. You moan in pleasure when he starts thrusting, bucking your hips into his with tiny and desperate cries. He sets a gentle pace, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he fucks into you.

“Fuck..” he whispers into your ear. “Feel so good, so soft. Such a good girl, taking me so well.” You moan at his words, loving the way he feels inside you. The way his cock gently kisses your cervix and brushes over that spongy spot inside of you that sends you over the edge again.

“Shit.” He breathes out, thrusts getting more erratic as you climax pushes him to his own. “I’m gonna cum....fuck.” You angle your hips upward, wanting and craving more and more of him. He cums, whimpering sighs escaping his lips. He plops on top of you, sighing when he does.

“You ok?” He smiles, looking up at you. Always checking to make sure you’re okay.

“Yes, Touya.” You grin back at him, your fingers finding a home in his hair and stroking his locks.

“Doll?” He sounds scared for a moment, his voice thick with worry.

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He tells you, sounding small. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his hair.

“I love you too…” you’re silent for a minute, staring at the shapes in your ceiling. “Will you be here in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[from-a-reckless-writer]

iv. couch.

read on ao3

To Lena: r u busy??? U didnt answer my calls. Dinner later?

To Lena: my place.

To Lena: Or yours! Can totally go to urs. If u want.

To Lena: Lena????

To Lena: where are u??

To Lena: Answer my calls

To Lena: Pls?

Kara rounds the corner of her hallway, keys bitten, dangling from her lips, as she types with both hands. Her 67th text message of the day to an MIA Lena Luthor sent. She fails to notice the creature lurking around the front of her door; dark fur shining under the cheap LED lights of Kara’s corridor.

She’s still deeply absorbed in her phone with worry, in the middle of jamming her keys in with one hand, when something furry brushes against her legs and Kara yelps.

She pulls the knob clean out of the wood in shock, her phone dropping to the floor loudly, the cat doing a duet with her with a startled yowl of her own.

Heart hammering and adrenaline racing, Kara looks down and sees the cat for the first time.

“Oh! Oh!” she gasps, “I didn’t see you there, buddy. I’m sorry for startling you!! I didn’t mean it.”

The door knob clatters loudly to the ground as it falls out of her grasp. And Kara sheepishly feels guilty for the hole in her door. But the cat meows loudly, catching her attention, as if in response to her apology.

She crouches down low, and reaches out a hand to touch the furball. She snaps a quick pic, sends it to Lena and pockets her phone.

To Lena: KITTY!!

“Oh, oh come here,” she coos, “where’s your collar? How’d you get here huh?”

The cat reminds her of Streaky. The first stray who ever took to her kindly. Although upon closer inspection, Kara realizes this one has striking emeralds for eyes, Streaky’s eyes were a more softer blue.

The cat surprisingly seems friendly, immediately leaning into Kara’s touch. Nosing at the inside of Kara’s wrist and it’s such a familiar gesture but she can’t seem to remember why.

And...oh, a small rumbling echoes through Kara’s palm!

Oh, they’re purring!

Kara doesn’t know how long she stays there crouched low exactly, but eventually, she stands up, takes her hand away, and picks up the damaged doorknob.

“Well, time for you to go home now, buddy,” she tells them, giving their head one last pat before dusting off her hands on her jacket.

“Go on, shooo. Shoo. Go home. I’m sure your human is looking for you.”

But the cat remains unmoving. It looks like they’ve decided to sit firmly in front of Kara’s doorstep, casually licking a paw, as if waiting for Kara to open her door.

“Are you actually waiting for me to open my door?” Kara makes a mental note to thank Rao that none of her neighbors can see her trying to hold a proper conversation with a cat.

“Look, kitty,” she says firmly, “I’m not your human.”

The cat just blinks owlishly at her. Eyes too green, too intelligent and-

Kara makes up her mind.

She turns her face skywards, takes a deep breath (This will probably backfire, she already knows. But she's always had a soft spot for strays.) and then she pushes her door wide open.

The cat races inside, cutting through Kara’s legs and almost tripping her.

“Well, somebody’s excited,” Kara mutters under her breath, she watches the cat head for her living room couch; watches as they pause all of a sudden, changes course and jumps onto Kara’s coffee table instead.

Where the cat then proceeds to knock down everything in close vicinity, even the picture frame of her and Lena together.

“Hey! No! Bad kitty-”

But the cat is already hopping down from her pedestal, landing on the frame directly.

And then things get weird.

The cat proceeds to stomp all over it, meows loud, like really loud; insanely loud for a cat their size.

Her paw seems to be almost pointing? At the other person in the frame.

“I-” Kara seems taken aback by the bizarre behavior, sure she knows cats are vastly different from dogs, but this…

This is just weird.

The cat’s meowing only seems to get louder.

How you land yourselves in these situations, Kara. I really just don’t know, at this point. She can almost hear Alex say.

“What are you- Are you- are you pointing? That’s- That’s Lena, yeah. That’s my best friend.”

At that, the cat seems to vibrate. They start clawing at Kara’s pant leg, meowing and meowing and meowing—

And then it hits her.

"-but it turns out that she’s a witch. And apparently, so am I."

The green, green eyes.

A pink nose nuzzling against her wrist.

“Lena?”

******

“Oh, Rao! Lena you’re a cat! What happened?! Oh, no, baby what did you do?”

Lena-

Lena The Cat—and okay, so she’s still wrapping her head around that one—just stays silent. She’s sitting on her lap, looking regal than any cat has any right to be. A judgmental look in her eyes.

Lena’s a cat. Cat’s can’t speak. Can’t answer Kara’s questions.

“Right. Sorry. Only meow,” Kara murmurs, embarrassed. For some reason even in cat form Lena manages to be intimidating.

“Okay so, uh d-does that mean you still understand me? Two meows for yes. One meow for no.”

Kara gets two meows.

“Okay, cool, cool. Great. You can still understand me, that's good.” Kara runs a hand down her spine, “Gosh, your fur is just so soft.”

She hears Lena give a small growl, body tensing, “Right. Right. Sorry. Not the time for pets.” Kara retracts her hand away.

“Uhm, so next question then, I guess? D-did you become a cat this morning? Were you testing out your uhm...gift?”

Lena meows twice. Kara nods, clenching and unclenching her fist underneath her chin. Fingers itching to run themselves through Lena’s soft fur again. Lena seems to sense this, and nuzzles her face into Kara’s hand, bumps against her repeatedly.

“Really?” Kara double-checks, giddy. If she were human Kara bets Lena would be rolling her eyes like she always does when Kara does something particularly dorky, but she just pushes her head firmer against Kara’s hand and meows twice.

“So uhm,” she starts, cautiously, noting Lena’s increasing purr, “is there like a spellbook for this or something? Something that can help you transform back?

Lena meows yes.

“Is it in The Tower or back at your place?”

There are no responses.

“Sorry, sorry lemme rephrase, is it in The Tower?”

She gets two consecutive meows.

Okay, to The Tower it is.

******

“Are you going to tell me why you’re cradling a cat in your cape or??” Alex raises a brow at her, a hand on her hip, left foot tapping impatiently. Her sister was heading out for the day, it looks like. It was just tough luck that Supergirl landed one minute before the elevator took Alex.

Crap. Now they have to explain. They didn’t talk about this. Lena still hasn’t told her if it was okay to tell people about her gift.

“I-I rescued it,” Kara says.

Well, that isn’t so far from the truth, right? She stares at the bundle in her arms, Lena the traitor staying silent all the while—green eyes shining all innocent at Kara.

Alex’s stares intensifies.

“From a tree,” Kara flounders, and Lena The Cat has the audacity to yawn, squirm and jump away from her arms. She lands gracefully, tail swishing up in the air and heads straight for the lab.

Alex eyes the cat suspiciously before turning back to Kara. She jabs a finger to her chest. “It better not have any fleas. It better not touch my training mat.”

“She won’t.”

Alex just shakes her head, rolls her eyes, grabs her helmet and walks to the elevator.

Before she goes though, Alex says, “You know, this is gonna sound weird, but I swear I think I saw that same cat slinking out of The Tower earlier this morning.”

“Alex, she’s literally a black cat. There are hundreds of black cats in the city.”

“You're being weirdly defensive about this. Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

Alex seems like she wants to say more, but the elevator dings, and she’s never been more grateful that Kelly makes Alex pick her up from work. Alex huffs out breath, before conceding and disappearing into the lift.

******

The camera flash is what gets Kara busted.

But is it really her fault if she walked in on a cute kitty, hunched over, meowing adorably, trying to flip over the pages of a thick spellbook, with her teeny-tiny bean paws?

Lena hisses at her, teeth-bared and fur puffy.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But you were just really, really, really cute okay?” She walks closer to the desk, carefully lifts a hand and scratches Lena behind the ear.

The hissing slowly devolves into purring, and Kara grins triumphantly. Lena lets herself be picked up after a few moments, Kara leafing through the pages for her.

“So, found anything yet?” She asks, cradling Lena close to her chest. A warm weight on Kara’s arms, and as much as she wants to get her real Lena back, she also isn’t too eager on giving up this version anytime soon. Then again, Kara thinks, it would be impossible for her to give up any version of Lena Luthor.

“Spell? Charm? Anything? Do you need to make a potion? Are we gonna get to make a potion? Oh, oh do you need a wand? Do you have a wa-”

Kara’s words get muffled as two black paws press against her lips. Lena’s green eyes narrowing at her. She meows at Kara. Loudly.

“Mkay, mkay. Shut up. Got it.”

Lena removes her paws, and Kara makes a gesture of zipping her lips together. This seems to appease Lena enough because the next second, a pink tongue darts out and she...licks Kara's nose.

“Did you- did you just lick me?” Kara gasps out.

Lena doesn’t even acknowledge her with a meow, just turns away and jumps out of her arms again. Before Kara can do anything about it though, her phone rings.

The screen lighting up with Andrea’s name.

“Danvers, I’ve got a story for you.”

******

“Alex, please, I’ll be quick. I promise. I’ll only be three hours at the most. Please just look after her,” she pleads, pouting and puppy eyes in full power.

It also helps that the cat burrito in her cape looks to be cooperating. Lena The Cat staring at Alex with wide round eyes.

Apparently, some governor was found dead downtown, and now Andrea wants her on the scene. She can’t just leave Lena all alone in The Tower. No matter how hard Lena’s been protesting, this is brand new territory for both of them. Nobody knows the extent of Lena’s powers.

Point is, Kara would feel a lot better if she were to leave Lena under the care of someone she trusts. Even if said someone, accuses Lena of being a stray with fleas. It's still better than leaving Lena all on her own.

“Ugh.” Alex groans and Kara knows she’s won. “If this cat causes trouble I will throw it out the window, Kara.”

“No!” Kara yells, distressed. “Don’t do that. She’ll behave. She promises.”

She puts her hand under Lena’s arms and raises her up to eye level—Simba style. “You promise to be good for Alex, don’t you?”

All she gets is a lot of squirming and screaming, there were also a lot of attempts at scratching Kara’s nose.

“See?” Kara says, chuckling nervously. “She’s telling you she’s good.”

Alex looks skeptical, her arms crossed against her chest.

Kara sets her down on the couch, and crouches down low.

She tries to pet her head, but Lena bites at her finger, she catches her teeth on the skin of her supersuit’s thumb slot. She bites deeper, her teeth accomplishing nothing but a few dents.

And oh, Rao she thinks she’s such a feral little cat but her pink adorable gummy snarl says otherwise.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be back. I promise,” she whispers, careful not to let Alex hear. “And then we’ll figure it out later, okay? The safest place for you right now is to be with Alex.”

She really doesn’t want to go, and based on Lena’s protests she doesn’t want Kara to go either. But well, Andrea had finally threatened to fire her if she disobeyed...which is...fair.

She’s aware she’s been doing a less than stellar job at being a journalist lately. Rao, what an understatement. This is basically her make it or break it.

“Look, I’ll be quick, promise. Be good to Alex,” Kara murmurs. She presses a kiss on Lena’s furry forehead. Lena finally unclenches her jaw and lets Kara go. The little whine she lets out, letting Kara know that she knows the battle’s lost.

“Both of you, be good,” Kara tells them sternly. “Alex, please don’t yeet my cat out of the window.”

Alex shrugs, staring at the cat with suspicion. “I make no promises.’

Lena is staring at Alex just as hostile. Great. They both deserve each other.

Kara sighs exasperatedly. Well, at least she tried.

******

She gets a very angry Alex Danvers on the line, right after she’s finished talking to some sources. It’s nighttime now, and when she checks her watch—yep, she’s left Lena in Alex’s care for more than six hours.

Crap.

“Hey, Al—”

“KARA IF YOU DON’T PICK UP THIS THIS THIS GODDAMNED HAIRBALL RIGHT NOW, YOU WILL NEVER SEE IT EVER AGAIN.”

There is loud meowing, and then, “What the- Get off! Get off me right no-”

The line clicks dead.

Kara Danvers quickly changes into an alley, manages to break the sound barrier.

******

It’s Kelly who opens the door.

“Hey, Kara,” she greets her. Kara is impatiently rocking on her heels, trying to peer past Kelly’s shoulders.

The place was quiet; ridiculously quiet, and Kara feels fear swoop in her belly.

“Please, tell me my cat is still alive,” Kara bursts out, Kelly just gives her a pained smile and oh, no, oh no.

She muscles her way past Kelly to a brooding Alex on the couch.

Lena is nowhere to be seen.

“Alex, Alex where’s my cat? Where is she? Where did you put her?”

Alex finally looks up at her, Kara taking notice of the red marks on her arm.

Oh no, Lena, what did you do?

“Calm down, I didn’t throw the little demon away. She’s-" Alex sing-songs before finishing, "on time-out.”

“Time-out?” Kara asks, voice shaking. Rao, does she really want to know.

Alex takes too long to answer, taking a swig of her beer first before pointing to a corner in the living room.

And there, she spots it.

It, being a small pile of laundry on the floor, next to an upside down hamper. A big white hamper housing one Lena Luthor. There's a crude cardboard sign stuck on it; "Kitty Jail". Alex has also stacked a few encyclopedia on top of it, no doubt an attempt to keep Lena from escaping.

“Oh! Oh, Lena!”

Kara superspeeds her way and scoops Lena up, the cat meowing immediately and curling into Kara’s chest.

“You named the cat after Lena?!”

Crap.

Kara turns around slowly, “Uhm yeah?”

Alex just shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”

“Her eyes reminded me of Lena, okay?!” Kara yells defensively, pressing tiny kisses onto Lena’s fur.

“I’m sorry that Alex has been such a meanie to you," she coos, "I know you didn’t deserve it, baby."

Alex seems to perk up at that, because she raises up from the couch. “That,” Alex jabs a finger in their direction, Kara cradles Lena protectively, “That baby ruined my couch and she so totally deserves all the mean! All the mean in the world, Kara!”

Lena hisses in her arms.

“No, no. That’s not true. Lena is baby and she’s perfect and you’re just a meanie.”

“She ruined my upholstery! She left hair all over the place and that’s not even to mention the scratching!”

“Because you were mean to her!”

Alex scoffs, eyes bulging wide in disbelief.

“Get out,” Alex says, her brows pinching comically, “Get out of my apartment before that little devil causes more damage.”

“Gladly,” Kara says, and Lena meows her assent. They make their way past Alex, Kara unaware that Lena has stuck out her little tongue at Alex over her shoulder.

“And she’s not a little devil!” Kara calls out.

Alex slams the door in her face.

******

That evening, Kara pores over a thick spellbook, eyes swimming with Latin symbols with a purring machine on her lap.

By midnight, Kara has managed to pass out on her couch, a black cat curled on her chest.

The spellbook lay open on her coffee table, forgotten.

******

The first sight that greets Kara when she wakes up are green eyes.

Green human eyes.

And then it hits her.

“Lena!”

The spell had blessedly wore off by morning, and Kara’s never been more glad to see the sunlight lighting up Lena’s face.

For a moment, Kara’s assaulted with the mental image of laying in a pool of sunlight with a black cat stretching leisurely next to her.

“Good morning,” Lena purrs, and oh Rao, that sound is much, much better than her meowing.

“You’re back!” Kara gasps in awe.

“I’m back,” she whispers, she’s still draped fully over Kara on the couch. A blanket covering them both.

“Rao, I missed you.” A palm comes up to cup her cheeks, Lena automatically nuzzling into the inside of her wrist.

“Mm, I missed me, too,” Lena tells her, face breaking into a small smile. Kara traces her fingers up and down Lena’s spine. Oh, how she’s missed touching Lena’s skin.

Wait-

Skin.

Is she-

“Lena,” Kara begins, swallowing. Her nerves not going unnoticed.

Lena raises a brow at her. “Kara?”

“Are you- uhm- ah. Are you naked right now?”

Lena’s eyes light up like a cat’s and Kara knows she’s in trouble.

“Mm. It seems that I am,” Lena says, and all Kara can do is gulp.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

special shoutout to @mike-wachowski, @sexybread-png and @thebreakfastgod for their cat expertise without whom this silly little fic would not be written.

[storiesforallfandoms]

a bit of excitement ~ bucky barnes;mcu

word count: 1811

request?: no

description: in which he feels responsible for dragging his wife into a dangerous mission, but she loves a bit of excitement

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

I pulled the hair brush through my still wet hair as I stood in front of the full length mirror. Everything about being in that place felt wrong to me. Maybe because it was owned by the man that ripped my friends apart, but more likely because that same man had been in jail for killing a literal king and framing my husband for it.

So yeah, it wasn’t a great living arrangement currently.

I hadn’t been on a mission in five long years. It was strange to be back in this situation, but at the same time it felt weirdly comforting. Like coming home after so long away. Although, being on the run with a bounty on my head, not to mention the eventual “conversation” we were going to have with the Dora Milaje, wasn’t my dream way of going back to work.

Placing my brush aside, I changed from the towel that was wrapped around my to one of Bucky’s discarded t-shirts. It smelled like him, and it wrapped me in warmth, almost like he was actually there.

As if reading my thoughts, I felt someone lightly brush my hair from my shoulder and Bucky’s soft lips place light kisses there. I smiled and leaned back against him as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“I love seeing you in my shirts,” he said, meeting my gaze through the mirror. “Especially when I know there’s nothing underneath.”

“Then you’ll be delighted with the information I have for you.” Bucky smiled and continued to kiss my neck. “Any word on Karli or her band of terrorists?”

Bucky groaned as he buried his head in my neck. “Ruining the moment, babe.”

“Sorry, but yo know this is how I am when I work. Especially when my life, and my husband’s life, is on the line.”

Bucky raised his head to look at me again. “Nothing yet. Sam thinks he has a lead, but convinced me to go to bed so we can work on it in the morning.”

“I have to agree with him. You need rest, Buck.”

His face was sullen then. He couldn’t bring himself to look at me and his thumbs were absentmindedly tracing circles against my stomach. I put one hand against his, which finally brought his attention back to me.

“What’s on your mind, soldier?” I asked.

A small smile crept on Bucky’s face at the too familiar nickname I had taken and made more loving. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

I turned in his arms to face him. “What do you mean?”

“If it weren’t for me you’d be home, safe, not having to worry about this mess I’ve caused - ”

“Stop.” I cupped Bucky’s face, making him look down at me. “Don’t talk like that. I’m here because I want to be. If you weren’t involved I’d still be here with Sam if he had called. I want to stop Karli, to save whoever else I can save. That’s who I am. Having you here with me is just the icing on top of the cake.”

Bucky nodded and pulled me in so my body was pressing against his. He rested his forehead against mine, his face so close that I could feel his breath against my face. I just wanted to kiss those soft lips until I physically couldn’t anymore.

“Besides,” I added, “the past five years have been too boring. I need a bit of excitement in my life.”

Bucky chuckled and finally closed the space between us, pressing his lips against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and got onto my toes so I could reach him. I had forgotten the lack of anything underneath his shirt until I felt Bucky’s flash hand squeezing my bare ass cheek.

“Jump,” he breathed against my lips.

I did as he said and jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. I could already feel his boner poking through his jeans against my naked core. He cradled my back effortlessly with his metal arm as his flesh hand was still cupping my ass, He carried me over to the bed and gently laid me down on the soft mattress.

Bucky broke away from the kiss long enough to sit up and pull his shirt over his head. I couldn’t help myself from reaching up and running my hand over his muscular chest and torso. He chuckled before leaning down to kiss me again.

I shivered as I felt his cold metal hand slowly trailing up my thigh and slipping under the shirt I had on. Bucky had always made sure to be gentle with his left arm, especially in these intimate settings. He was always worried about being too rough and accidentally hurting me with it, but honestly, I thought it was really hot. The first time he had wrapped his cool metal fingers around my throat, forgetting that it wasn’t his flesh arm, I nearly came from the action alone.

He placed soft kisses against my neck again. His body was pressed against mine and I could feel his boner desperately trying to pop free from his jeans. He was pulling the shirt over my head, leaving me completely bare beneath him. I reached between us to pop open the button on his jeans and desperately attempt to pull them down.

“Need some help?” he asked, his voice husky with lust. My words stuck to my throat, so I just nodded in response. He smiled and pulled away from me again so he could pull off his jeans and his boxers.

His body was warm as he pressed against me again. I could feel the tip of his dick poking at my entrance, but he wasn’t pushing all the way in just yet. One hand slipped underneath me, holding me, while the other took hold of his shaft and started to tease my already slick hole. I whimpered, trying my best to keep quiet. The last thing I needed was for Sam, or worse, for Zemo to hear the two of us having sex. Sam would never let Bucky live it down, and Zemo would probably use it as some form of leverage over us.

I wrapped my arm’s around Bucky’s neck and my legs around his waist, my hips bucking in a desperate attempt to finally feel him inside of me.

He chuckled. “Someone’s desperate.”

“And here I thought you were going to be fair this time,” I retorted.

“Oh, I’ll be fair, doll. I just like to see how needy you get for my hard cock.”

He seemed pleased with himself as he felt me becoming even wetter.

I gasped as I finally felt his tip push past my folds and into me. I buried my head in his chest to muffle the pleased moans that were spilling from my lips. Bucky had his bottom lip pulled between his teeth to try and muffle his own sounds of pleasure as he pushed himself all the way inside of me.

He wrapped his arms around me and lowered his head onto my shoulder as he slowly began to grind himself into me. One of my hands clawed at his back, no doubt leaving thin lines that would be blood red against his skin in the morning, while the other ran through his soft hair. I kept my legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him buried deep inside of me.

Contrary to the numerous jokes Sam liked to make, Bucky was still old school in his ways of love making. He would always prefer to be slow and gentle, to savor every moment he was inside of me, and I never complained about it. Bucky always made me feel so much pleasure every time we were intimate. There was one time I swore I saw stars from how hard he made me orgasm.

Bucky’s arms slipped out from underneath me so he could prop himself up on his elbows and look down at me. I was captivated by those beautiful blue eyes that I had fallen in love with that I couldn’t look away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Fuck, I’m so lucky to have you.”

I tried to respond, but once I opened my mouth all that came out was a breathy moan. Bucky smiled and leaned down to capture my lips with his.

“I love you,” he mumbled against my lips.

“I love you, too,” I responded. “F-Fuck Bucky, I’m so close.”

“Let me feel you cum around me,” he encouraged. “Tell me when, doll, I’ll have to muzzle you.”

That was enough to make the pressured feeling building within me finally break. I tried to stutter something out, but my mind went completely blank as I felt myself clutching around him. Bucky put a hand over my mouth as he increased the speed of his thrusts just enough to get himself off as well. He groaned softly as I felt his warmth filling me, causing my eyes to roll back into my head.

Bucky laid on top of me for a while, the two of us breathing heavily as we were still tangled up with one another. I ran my hands through his hair and kissed whatever skin I could reach as he rested against me. It was hard to let him get up when he finally pulled away, but I knew we couldn’t exactly stay like that all night.

He got up long enough to turn off the light, leaving the room dark except for a slight light coming from the full moon outside. When he slid back into bed next to me, I immediately curled up into his side.

“You’re right, I should take you on missions more often,” Bucky joked. “If I’m gonna be partnered up with Sam so much, I may need someone around to help me blow off a little steam.”

“I don’t think you’re the one who’ll be blowing if I’m around,” I said. “But I do like the idea of working with you and Sam. We could be a little trio.”

Through the dim light I could see Bucky screw up his face at this. “Nevermind, I don’t like the idea of being partnered up with Sam and my wife. I can’t handle that much bullying.”

I giggled and rested my head against Bucky’s chest. I listened to his steady heartbeat as my eyes began to grow tired. I felt myself starting to lull off to sleep when a thought crossed my mind.

“Hey Buck?”

“Yeah baby?”

“We’re gonna have to wash these sheets, or burn them or something. Zemo’s gonna kill us if he finds out we had sex in one of his beds.”

I could hear the amusement in Bucky’s voice as he responded, “He’s going back to jail soon, he doesn’t need to know.”

[ragingbookdragon]

My Brother's Best Friend Is The One For Me

Wally West x Batsis!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Got to rereading my Batsis fics and came across the "What A Flashy Romance" and wanted to do another one with Wally because I love him. Enjoy! -Thorne

Being the middle child and also the only girl in the Batfamily meant two things:

1. She had four brothers that treated her like a porcelain doll, despite the fact that she could throw a punch at 336 PSI.

And

2. She followed an unspoken rule that Dick and Jason’s friends were off limits when it came to dating.

In all, neither of those things were major problems. She’d learned at a young age how to avoid Dick and Jason’s overbearing-protective-brother-modes, and Tim and Damian were younger, so she didn’t have to worry about them. The second one was also avoidable—most of her older brothers’ friends were the same, and she wasn’t around most of them to develop any feelings.

Well, there was Wally, but it was just a crush. A stupid, little school-girl crush—that she’d never really grown out of—that didn’t matter in the slightest. Except whenever Dick brought him over to the house and she had to pretend that sitting next to him didn’t make her heart race like she’d run a mile.

And the most annoying thing about the whole crush is that she couldn’t tell if Wally was ever interested in her or not. Most of Dick’s friends, Garth, Kyle, Roy, they treated her like a little sister—hell, they even said “Love you lil sis!” to her regularly. And yet, Wally didn’t. Now, there was the occasional head pat, but even that was an affectionate gesture that siblings and SO’s did all the time. It was infuriating, and so was Wally—but she was going to sort it all out the next time he came over because the worst thing he could say was “No”, and either she needed to hear that…or “Yes”.

***

Normal Sundays for the Wayne household usually meant Ultimate Waffle Breakfast and sitting on your ass all day until patrol—it was the one day of the week where they could do anything and nothing and didn’t have to stick to schedules. Everyone loved Sundays, especially (Y/N), because it meant that all of her family was home, even Jason (who tried to deny that he enjoyed coming home to hang out, but if that mile long grin was any help, he was lying). And while everyone was home, that usually meant that everybody’s friends were coming over too.

***

She swiped the syrup out of Jason’s hand when he swung it back around, grinning at him when he glared at her.

“I was gonna use that, (Y/N),” he griped, and she shrugged, uncapping the bottle.

She tipped it over and watched the syrup lazily pour out of the container onto her waffles.

“You were taking too long.” Her eyes twinkled with humor. “I guess you were as…slow as molasses.”

While most of the table groaned at her terrible joke, Dick snorted into his milk, causing it to splatter on his plate and across the table.

“Nice one,” he coughed, wiping his face and the dark oak surface.

(Y/N) bowed dramatically. “Well, I did learn from the best.” When Dick’s face lit up, she turned to Alfred and smiled. “Alfie, thank you for teaching me your ways.”

The old butler merely tipped his head, a hidden smile crossing his lips at the way the eldest son’s jaw went slack. She turned her attention to Bruce who was quietly chewing, eyes following along the research paper she’d asked him to check out.

“Dad, what’s on your agenda for today?”

He swallowed and flicked a line out with a red pen, etching his own comment in the margin. “Lucius has a few ideas about some new gadgets he wanted to run by me.” Another line went out. “I’ll call him after breakfast.” Bruce looked at her. “You?”

(Y/N) nodded at the paper in his hands, then slapped Jason’s who was reaching over to take a piece of bacon from her plate. “Waiting for you to finish tearing me a new one so I can redo the paper.” She cut into the waffle with the side of her fork. “Once I salvage what little scientific dignity you’ve left me with, I’ll probably laze around.”

“You mean what you do normally?” Bruce quipped, grinning when she glowered at him; his eyes went back to her paper. “You’re doing well so far.”

She huffed. “Tell that to every red line you’ve marked out in that paragraph.”

He flashed the paper. “I’m writing in the margins how to change it. This isn’t a dissertation, sweetheart. You’re allowed to make mistakes. We all do.”

(Y/N) grumbled as her cheeks warmed and she went back to her plate as the conversation flowed around her.

Most of it was the discussion of what everyone was planning on doing, Damian was going to play video games, Tim was going to join him (which she knew was going to be fun while the moment lasted until the petty sibling rivalry got in the way and their gaming dwindled into a physical fight that she and probably Dick were going to have to break up), Jason was going to use the workbench in the cave to upgrade some gear, and Dick apparently,

“Wally and Garth are gonna come over later and hang out.”

She paused, mid-stab of her fork and looked at up. “Wally’s coming over?”

He nodded. “And Garth. We were gonna go to the mall and get some new clothes.”

Jason snorted, laying an arm over the backs of Tim and (Y/N)’s chairs. “Spending money with daddy’s credit card, Dickie?”

Dick smirked. “Just like you.” Jason merely matched his grin, and while the entire table was cracking up at Bruce’s frown, (Y/N) was silent, heart beating faster at the thought of seeing Wally.

“(Y/N)?” She startled and looked up at Dick.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were okay. You got quiet all of the sudden.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Yeah, just thought about all of the corrections I’m gonna have to do because somebody CAN’T STOP MARKING OUT MY PARAGRAPHS.” Bruce merely smiled and knocked out another line.

It was a lie. It was the biggest lie she’d told right next to the one she told when Bruce had asked her where she was on prom night her senior year a few years ago—she was totally not saving a different sector of the universe with Kyle Rayner, she was dancing with Sam Reilly all night—she strongly believed her dad knew the truth—Batman knew everything.

Bruce handed the paper back to her and she groaned as she scanned the red lines on every page. It was going to take her hours to go over this.

Jason leaned over and read the title, “Cellular Division and Mutation Under Extreme Elemental Circumstances…a composition by (Y/N) Wayne.” He cocked a dark brow. “Go big or go home, huh, baby girl?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Doctor Halberd wanted us to pick challenging topics for the research paper this term.” A crooked smile crossed her lips. “I’m nothing if not ambitious about proving I’m smarter than everyone else.”

“You need another source,” Bruce murmured, sipping the steaming black coffee. “One-fourteen is good, but I’d go for one-fifteen.”

She groaned and dropped her head. “Are you kidding me? I had enough trouble gathering that many.”

“Why don’t you use Barry?” Tim piped up, mouth full of whip cream and strawberries.

“Master Timothy, we do not talk with our mouth full,” Alfred admonished, and Tim blushed.

(Y/N)’s head shot up and she stared at her brother. “That’s actually a good idea. Speedsters would make for perfect references about cellular division.” An idea popped into her head and she glanced at Dick. “And since Wally is com—”

“Nope,” Dick interrupted, pointing at her. “Wally is coming over to hang out, not to be poked and prodded to finish a paper.”

She let out a whine and turned to Bruce. “Dad, tell Dick to let me at least talk to Wally about it.”

Bruce turned his attention onto Dick. “Let your sister talk to Wally about her paper.”

“Oh, come on,” he complained and (Y/N) stood from her seat, hurrying around the table to stand behind Dick’s seat.

She draped herself over his shoulders, tucking her chin in the crook of his neck. “I promise I won’t be annoying if you let me come with you. I’ll ask two questions every thirty minutes and I’ll go do shopping on my own, so I won’t be in the way.” (Y/N) craned her neck and pulled the most pitiful puppy eyes she could. “Please?”

Dick’s eyes darted to her face and then he looked away. Just one more push.

“Please frate?” she begged and when his eyes went wide from the usage of his native tongue, she knew she’d won him over.

He deflated and let out a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You can come with us.”

(Y/N) squealed and pressed a kiss to his cheekbone, as she grabbed the paper and hurried towards the door. She halted and spun around, looking at her father.

“What do I need to be most specific about?”

“Division under elemental circumstances.”

She glowered at him. “No shit Sherlock. Specifics.”

“Molecular division under terrestrial gamma-ray flashes.”

“That’ll work,” (Y/N) nodded and exited to room.

Jason looked out the door then back to his brothers. “She’s way to excited about science sometimes.” They merely laughed.

***

She raised the red lace, cold shoulder V-neck shirt to her chest before frowning, and switching it with the full lace blue shirt with mini golden lightning bolt charms hanging off the trim. After a moment, she pulled the blue one down and sighed.

“You know, if you want to impress him, I’d wear the red shirt.”

She jumped and barely managed to suppress the scream that was coming up in her throat as she swiveled around to face her door. Jason stood in the doorway, a knowing look on his face. She could play this one of two ways: she could be truthful, or she could lie—she chose the latter.

“What do you mean?” He snorted and walked into her room, taking a seat at her desk.

“I mean if you’re trying to impress Wally, wear the shirt that’s the color of his suit, (Y/N).” She looked away and into the mirror, but she couldn’t escape the eyes boring into her back.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked quietly, and he laughed.

“That you’re head over heels for Dick’s best friend? Oh yeah. Totally.”

She sighed and sat on her bed, pulling the red top over her torso. “It’s just a crush.”

“Seems like more than a crush to me, baby girl.”

(Y/N) pulled the fabric down and looked at him. “Are you gonna tell Dick?”

Jason scoffed. “Do I look like a narc to you?”

She cocked a brow and deadpanned, “Just the other night you told dad that Damian lifted Two-Face’s wallet when he was being put in a cruiser.”

“Well, that wasn’t something important,” he countered and nodded at her. “This is.” He paused and shrugged. “Nah, I’m not gonna tell Dickhead. Play this out however you see fit, baby girl.”

(Y/N) stared at him for a moment then averted her gaze and let out a sigh; Jason huffed.

“That sounds like a heavy sigh, (Y/N). What’s wrong?”

She shrugged. “I don’t even know if Wally would be interested in me. He’s him and I’m me.”

Jason stood and walked over, kneeling in front of her. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Anytime he’s had a girlfriend she’s always been super strong or really outspoken.”

“And you’re not?” he quipped, causing her to huff.

“You know what I mean, Jay.”

He nodded. “Okay, so you’re not an Amazon or shoving your head up someone’s ass for a story. But you’re you.”

“And that means?”

“You’re the only daughter of the World’s Greatest Detective who’s a wicked smart science major by day and a badass vigilante by night.” He cupped her cheeks. “You are intelligent, warmhearted, talented, and absolutely beautiful.” Jason smushed her cheeks together and grinned as she giggled. “And if Wally doesn’t see any of what I just said, then he’s a damn fool and not worth your time. You hear me, baby girl?”

She nodded. “I hear you.”

Jason gave her a firm nod and let go, standing to his feet. “Now come on let’s go do your makeup.”

(Y/N) blinked. “You can do makeup?”

“Baby girl, I can do a lot of things. Now hurry up. That razor sharp eye liner and golden eyeshadow isn’t going to do itself.”

***

She waited beside Dick with a pleasant smile on her face, and despite the fluttering heartbeat in her chest, Jason’s pep talk kept running through her head and with every passing moment, she felt her confidence rising. He was right, if she told Wally and he didn’t feel the same, then it was his loss and her gain to move on and find someone else.

A black sedan pulled up at the manor and the passenger window rolled down, revealing Wally at the wheel and Garth in the passenger’s seat. Dick waved at them.

“Hey guys,” he greeted. “How was the drive over?”

“Oh, you know, we saw three carjacking’s and one armed robbery,” Garth quipped. “I assume that’s normal for Gotham though.”

“It’s a bit below average actually,” (Y/N) piped up. “Hi Garth. Hi Wally.”

Wally smiled and Garth waved in return as the two siblings started getting in the car.

“You’re coming with us, (Y/N)?” Wally questioned and she nodded.

“Do you want me to lie to you or give you the truth?”

He chuckled. “I’m always open for a good story.”

“I wanted to buy out Victoria’s Secret and piss off any boyfriends who are in hot water with their girlfriends.” The guys laughed and she admitted, “Truth though, I need one last source for a research paper.”

“Gonna find that source shopping?” Garth asked and (Y/N) caught Wally’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Actually, my last source is Wally.”

They fell silent and looked at her, though the speedster’s focus was on the road.

“What are you gonna source Wally on?” The Atlantean inquired.

“My paper is over cellular mutation under distress from elemental conditions.” She smiled at Wally. “Our speedster here, is a walking subject perfect for the paper. I can only hope that he agrees to be a willing participant.”

Wally chuckled. “I’d be willing to part with a few secrets for you. Of course, I’d have to—”

“Remain anonymous.” (Y/N) winked. “I’m sure my professor would be okay with me citing ‘The Flash’ so long as I had a picture with him to back it up.”

“I like pictures,” he murmured, pulling into the parking lot.

“That’s good to know,” she replied and when he put the car in park, she took her purse and added, “So I’ll leave you boys to do your shopping and Wally, I’ll text you any questions I have.”

“You’re not gonna hang around?” Garth asked and she shook her head.

“Nah, I don’t wanna be the annoying little sister who follows her older brother and his friends around.” She smiled at them. “Besides, Dick was kind enough to let me come along. Least I can do is stay out of your way.”

(Y/N) opened the door and waved at them. “Text me when you’re ready to leave and I’ll meet you back here.”

***

Despite the initial joke that she was going to buy out the lingerie store, there was actually some truth in the statement, and she drew her fingers over one of the lace baby dolls as she looked at her phone, grinning like a dope at Wally’s response.

Well, I wouldn’t say I’d grow a second skin from how fast my cells regenerate, but I can make my body heal instantaneously. -W

Can you regenerate limbs or major organs? –(Y/I)

Major organs or useful ones? -W

(Y/N) paused at his response and thought for a moment. It was risky. Sending the text, she was thinking about was risky, but it’d sure get her point across that she was into him. With her heart hammering in her chest, she pushed send and stuck her phone in her pocket.

Whichever ones are useful to you, Wally? ;) –(Y/N)

Her phone didn’t buzz for a good minute, and Wally took less than a second to reply, so he was doing one of two things: A.) Telling Dick that his younger sister sent a flirty text, or B.) Trying to figure out how to let her down easy. (Y/N) didn’t know which one was worse. Her hip buzzed and she inhaled shakily, pulling her phone out of her pocket with one eye cracked open to see how screwed she was.

Do you have a useful one in mind, beautiful? -W

She had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from letting out the biggest gasp any human had ever made, and she nervously looked around her to make sure no one else was staring at her. She grinned as she replied to him.

Oh, I could think of one…or two or three…Why? Is there gonna be a pop quiz over this later? I’ll have you know I’m an excellent test taker. –(Y/N)

Is that so? Well, what happens if you were to fail this particular pop quiz, (Y/N)? -W

I guess you’d have to stay the night for a study session and help me make a better grade ;) –(Y/I)

As she waited for another response, someone’s hand touched the small of her back and she reacted, immediately stepping away from the offending touch to spin on them. Her eyes went wide when she saw Wally standing before her, a grin on his face, phone in his hand.

“I think an overnight study session is possible, (Y/N).”

Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish until she finally got her brain to work and asked, “I thought you were shopping with Dick and Garth?”

He shrugged. “Told Dick you asked me an advanced question that’d be easier to answer in person than over text.” He wiggled his brows. “You know, advanced equations and scientific gibberish.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and turned back around, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks as she picked up one of the teddies. And when she realized what it looked like, she only felt more flustered. Crimson with baby blue trimming and was practically a shoelace.

“Well, that’sa hint if there ever was one,” Wally quipped, and she pulled the lingerie out of his line of sight.

“It was just the first one I grabbed!” she exclaimed, snapping her mouth shut when people looked over at them. Her cheeks felt like they were wildfires, and she pressed her head against the cool metal of the rack, sighing with what little relief it provided.

“You know, (Y/N),” he started softly. “If you’re not comfortable, this doesn’t have to go anywhere. I can forget this ever happened if you want me to.” (Y/N) opened her eyes and peered at him, at the concern but also the kindness in his gaze.

“I just—” she murmured and trailed off before letting out a sigh. “It’s kinda complicated.”

“Okay,” Wally nodded. “My mouth might work faster than my brain sometimes but lay it on me.”

She cracked a smile and thought back on Jason’s words. If Wally doesn’t see any of what I just said, then he’s a damn fool and not worth your time.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and looked at him, admitting, “Wally, I have…feelings for you.” His eyes widened and though she felt the sting of embarrassment, she pushed out her words. “It’s stupid, like one of those dumb childhood crushes that just sticks with you, you know?”

She averted her gaze and looked at her peep toe heels. “I just don’t wanna screw anything up because even if you don’t feel anything like I do, I don’t wanna lose you as a friend. Because I do value your friendship.” She sighed. “And Dick. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable about coming over to see him if there’s a chance you’ll have to see me too. I just—”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Wally interrupted gently, a smile growing on his face. “You’re thinking way big here, (Y/N). Bigger than you need to right now.”

She met his eyes. “Right now?” she repeated, and he reached out, taking her hand in his. His fingers felt tingly against her palm and he smiled.

“I like you, (Y/N).”

She blinked at him, practically dumbfounded. “You…you do?”

Wally nodded and confessed, “Have for a couple years, but I didn’t wanna make a move not knowing if you were interested.” His cheeks tinged pink, and he said, “But I’m glad you are. Like super glad.” (Y/N) giggled, suddenly feeling really foolish for all her worry and Wally let out a chuckle too.

She stared at him for a moment, relishing the coolness of his skin before pulling away, toying with the teddy in her other hand.

“So, about tonight…you staying over?”

Wally let out a groan and looked between her and the lingerie. “Probably, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away long enough to spend some time alone with you.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’ and winked. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Flash. You are the fastest man alive.”

“You’re into quickies? Good to know,” he grinned.

“Shut up,” she giggled.

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (1): Suspension (Fem!Reader x Toji Fushiguro, 5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: One of your favourite students has been suspended for fighting, and Gojo has palmed off the meeting with his guardian to go through all of the paperwork and facts and conditions on you. “Don’t worry,” Gojo says. “It’ll be Megumi’s sister, she always takes care of this kind of stuff!”. Gojo is wrong.

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. dom/sub dynamics, light fearplay and predator/prey elements. piv sex.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

“I’ve got all these other parents to deal with,” Gojo whines at you, pushing the papers into your hands. “And I hate paperwork, and I don’t have time to meet with Megumi’s family today – hell, if it were up to me, the kid wouldn’t even be suspended! Those guys had it coming!”

Gojo is not a very good teacher. Both of you know that – no matter how justified – violence never solves violence. Gojo, you think, would let these kids fight it out in an arena instead of solving things like an adult. You heave a large sigh as you look down at the papers detailing Megumi Fushiguro’s three-day suspension for fighting during school hours.

You’d seen Megumi before he’d gone home. He hadn’t had so much as a scratch on him; his face set in a frown, his arms crossed, his eyes downcast. You’d sighed at him and asked him if he was alright, and he’d shrugged.

He’s not a very talkative boy at the best of times, and you suppose that the suspension and the fight and the mini uproar it had caused in the school aren’t helping be any more verbose. You’d said goodbye to him and said that you hoped he thought about what had transpired today, your heart aching a little bit that you couldn’t be any more help to him.

You’d seen the three boys Megumi had got into a fight with, too. They had not gotten off so scot-free – they were bleeding noses, scraped cheeks, bruised eyes. At the very least, you don’t think any of them will get on Megumi’s wrong side again.

Gojo has to meet with all three of their parents tonight to give them the full story of why their children are so roughed up and what’s being done about it; a position that’s been doled out to him, you’re sure, because Principal Masamichi blames him for the incident and is punishing him. You can’t deny that seeing Gojo actually get punished for something is nice, but--

“Won’t they be mad to see me instead of you?” You ask him, biting your lip. “I mean . . . you’re his teacher. I’m just your aid.”

“Oh,” Gojo’s eyebrows rise behind his glasses. “No, it’ll be Megumi’s sister who’ll come, she’s a sweetheart! She’ll nod at you and say mournfully that she’ll talk to him and you’ll give her the paperwork, and that’s all – job done! Honestly, if I could palm this off on you and talk to Tsumiki instead, I’d do it in a heartbeat--”

“This is your job,” you tell him, exasperated, and he laughs wide and open. You’re not really supposed to get like this with him – if he were any other teacher, you’re sure that the exasperation and sighing and half-snapping you do would have had you thrown out of their class – but Gojo treats your irritation with him as if it’s the funniest thing that has ever happened. “You’re supposed to be good at dealing with this kind of thing!”

He shrugs.

“You’ll be fine!” He tells you, again. “Honestly, this isn’t the first time this has happened with Megumi and it won’t be the last. That kid’s got a right hook that could knock out an elephant!”

You do not ask him how he knows this. Asking too many questions of Gojo is always flirting with danger; you never know when his mouth will flash into a grin and you’ll suddenly be barraged with a flood of words and stories that don’t quite make sense and never seem to have a concrete end. But you can’t resist one last question – just in case it comes up. After all, it seems that Gojo has spoken to Tsumiki enough times for him to at least kind of know her--

“His sister?”

Gojo looks at you, and for a moment the shroud of capricious energy lifts from him, and he seems entirely serious. You’ve noticed this particular change in him only a few times – and often, those times have been about the more difficult backstories of students.

“His father isn’t around very often,” he says, eventually. “He’s some kind of something or other, Megumi never really says, but whatever he does, there’s a lot of travelling involved. Tsumiki’s his older sister – she’s twenty one, and she’s been more of a parent to him than it seems like his dad has.”

No wonder Megumi always seems suspicious and tired of Gojo. Something about his flighty nature probably strokes the back of Megumi’s psyche, where annoyances about an absent father are kept. You sigh, turning away and shaking your head to rid yourself of the idea of psychoanalysing the students.

“Alright,” you say wearily. “I’ll talk to Tsumiki.”

2.

You’re nervous as you set up for the meeting. You know Gojo had said that this would be easy, that Tsumiki was very sweet and would probably apologise to you for Megumi being a problem – but still! This is the first time you’ve ever met any of your students’ guardian figures in any capacity. You feel kind of bad that it had to be for this kind of news, actually – ordinarily, you like Megumi a lot. He’s very intense and serious and clever, and you think that he has a bright future ahead of him when the trials of being a twelve year old boy finally are over – but this meeting isn’t for saying things like that. This meeting is for giving details of the three day suspension that Megumi has gotten for – you check the paperwork again – fighting three boys by himself on one of the sports courts, making them bleed and . . . breaking one of their arms? No wonder Gojo had seemed so miserable at the thought of meeting with the victims’ parents.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, making sure that it still sits as neatly as you’d arranged it that morning. You check the clock to see you still have two minutes before anyone is due – you discreetly check your lipstick in a compact mirror (yesterday you’d had it on your teeth and you hadn’t realised until Mai had pointed it out with a laugh in her voice), smooth out your pencil skirt, tug at your stockings to make sure they’re pulled up and not wrinkling about your ankles . . .

And then, you wait.

The clock is straight across from you, so you’re able to see as Tsumiki is five minutes late, and then ten minutes late, and then fifteen. The tick-tock echoes in the room as your leg bounces against the floor, anxiety making you want to gnaw all of the carefully applied lipstick off of your mouth. From what Gojo had said, this doesn’t sound like Tsumiki at all – you’re just about to give up and pack all of your things away, figuring maybe she’d called into the office to say she couldn’t make it and telling you had been neglected, when the door slams open.

You rush to your feet, your sensible heels clacking on the ground.

“Miss Fushi--”

Your voice peters away.

The person stood in the doorway is, you’re certain, absolutely not Tsumiki Fushiguro.

For one thing, it’s a man. For another thing . . . well. You’re not entirely sure that a man with that expression on his face would ever be described to anyone as a ‘sweetheart’. Your frightened eyes linger on him for another moment, really taking in the broad shoulders and the muscles and the hair falling over his face, the dark, green eyes that are glaring at you like you’ve interrupted something very important. There’s a scar by his mouth that you also do your best not to stare at, just in the same way you avoid staring at how the form-fitting t-shirt he’s wearing clings to a muscled abdomen.

“It’s Mr, actually,” he says, which seems absurd in the face of him, standing there. He raises one eyebrow at you. “You were expecting my daughter, right?”

(You don’t know it, but Toji Fushiguro has gotten a read on you in less than a moment. He’s seen the wide eyes and the pretty mouth and the neatly appointed outfit, the pencil tucked behind your ear, the slightest tremble faced with his imposing presence – the fear as you’d seen the scar and the smoulder and the body. You’re adorable.)

“I . . . uuh--” Your cheeks are hot. You nod, weakly, and he walks into the room proper, the door swinging shut behind him with a deafening click. There’s danger in every one of this man’s movements, like a wolf who has finally cornered a little rabbit. You are feeling inexorably like prey, at this moment in time.

“I was expecting a man,” he says, shrugging. He sits at the chair in front of Gojo’s desk, pulled up just for him. He looks huge in the classroom; his shoulders too wide, his biceps bulging from the sleeve of the shirt. You don’t think this man was intending to be in a school classroom right now. “I guess you’re not Mr Gojo, huh? Gotta say,” he shoots you a grin that’s dangerous, everything about him is threatening. “I much prefer this development.”

“Oh,” you’re blustering, and it’s so cute. You sit back down in the chair with a quiet displacement of air, agitation in your fingers as you rake through the papers on the desk. Said desk is incredibly messy; Toji doesn’t think it’s yours. He ought to feel mad that they’ve palmed him off on some little assistant who’s probably not even fully qualified yet – instead, he’s watching your hands trembling and your teeth nibbling on your pretty mouth. “Y-yes, G-Gojo’s dealing with the parents of the other party--”

“My kid got into a fight, yeah?” He asks. “Decked ‘em pretty good, from what I heard.” You wince at his words, and that’s cute too.

“Megumi’s a good boy,” you say. “He’s just . . . got his own sense of justice, I think.” You look down at the papers, and your eyes seem to focus, back in a more comforting zone. “He’s been suspended for three days, and when he comes back, he’s on probation.”

“What’s that mean for him?” Toji asks, promptly, though something about the way he says it suggests to you he doesn’t really care. There’s a lightness, an airiness in his tone that sets you all off-kilter.

“It just means we’ll probably keep an especial eye on him. He’ll get a report that’ll need signing off on at the end of every period, someone will check up on it--” You see one of Gojo’s scrawled notes in the margin of the paperwork. You wince. “I’ll be in charge of it, actually. Making sure everyone’s happy with his behaviour for a few weeks--”

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

The question makes you jump. You’re like a doe in headlights, looking up at him. You blink slowly.

“I—I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Mr Fushiguro,” you say, prim. That’s cute, too. He likes breaking prim and proper things like you. “I’m—I’m doing my training. I’m working as an aid here for a year, and then I’ll be qualified to be in charge of my own class.” There’s a hint of pride in your words, there.

“Toji,” he says. “That’s my name. You haven’t gotta call me ‘Mr Fushiguro’. I’m not tryna’ be pushy,” but he’s inched forward. His elbows are resting on Gojo’s desk, in front of you – he rests his chin on his folded hands, sharp eyes regarding you as if you’re something he wants to devour. “Y’just look tense.”

“This is the first time I’ve met a student’s parent,” you admit, though the minute it’s left your mouth you’re regretting it. Like you’re admitting to some kind of weakness. This close to him, you can see there’s a dark red stain on one of his wrists, like dried blood. Your stomach is tying itself in knots. It’s not helping that his forearms are so big, ridged with muscle.

“That so?” His eyes gleam. “What d’ya think of me?”

You don’t actually need to answer him. He can see it in the way your eyes keep nervously skimming over him. The way your lips are shining in the light. The bob of your throat as you swallow.

“Mr Fushiguro--”

“I told you to call me Toji,” his voice is almost mocking. You watch him lean over the table like you’re somewhere far away from the action – watch his hand reach out and cup your face, calloused thumb brushing your cheek, like you’re a ghost in the corner of the room. His palms feel like they’re burning hot. “You’re tremblin’, little lamb.”

You had thought you’d felt like a rabbit – shy, ready to run at any moment. But the moment his hand is on you, you’re docile – too scared to scamper away. You suppose you are like a lamb, staring a wolf straight on in the face, too stupid or too pliant to use your common sense and run.

“I . . . I shouldn’t,” you say, voice trembling just as much as the rest of you. Toji’s smirk hasn’t left his face. You’re saying you shouldn’t, but he just bets if he reached further down and unbuttoned your blouse, your nipples would pebble for him – he just bets there’s a wet stain on your underwear, right now. He can always tell when someone’s turned on by the idea of playing with fire.

“I wouldn’t mind spendin’ a few weeks with you in charge of me,” he muses, and then chuckles humourlessly, correcting himself. “Sorry. Lemme rephrase that. I’d rather be in charge of you, but--”

Oh, he sees that. The little flash in your eyes, an imperceptible contract of your shoulders. If you weren’t behind the desk, he bets he’d have seen your thighs press together too. Girls like you are just so fucking predictable, and he loves it every single time. There’s just something that’s so much fun about breaking them – making them submit, admit that him being so close with the scent of something-that-might-be-death clinging to him turns them on like nothing else. Your attempts at being haughty and polite and proud have just made the stirring between his thighs harder to ignore. You’re such a cute, neat, demure little thing – by the end of this meeting, he’s going to have his way with you, you bet.

“M-Mr Fushiguro,” you say, trying to wrest back control of yourself – honestly, he’s pissed you aren’t listening to him, but the title’s kind of endearing. You’re trying so hard! Pity you’re going to lose all of your manners when you’re bent over this desk with his cock inside you. You haven’t even moved your face away from his hand. “I-I have to give you these papers.”

He stands up, pulling his own touch away from your cheek. Stretches. Your eyes are drawn to the brief expanse of his stomach, just above his trousers – the dark line of hair leading down to . . . Oh, God. You shouldn’t have thought about that. The grin on his face is cocky, and you know that he knows you were looking.

“I’m just gonna throw ‘em in the trash, sweetheart,” he says to you. “Now. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room, yeah?” He steps closer to you. You totter to your feet, half-unsure, half driven by the low ache between your legs and the thrum of desire that’s been reverberating through you since the moment he’d carelessly thrown out how much happier he was to see you than Gojo. You have to tilt your head up a little when he comes closer. You’d thought you realised how massive he was when he’d walked through the door, but that’s nothing compared to how his size seems to dwarf you. Every unkind thought you’ve ever had about your body or your face seems to have gone out of the window as his heated green gaze hungrily drinks you in. You know it’s the stare of some predator who’s going to devour you, and you still feel transformed. Your breath catches in your throat as his hand idly comes to the top of your blouse buttons, a finger brushing the place in your throat where your pulse is beating its unsteady rhythm.

“Whaddya say, little lamb?” He grins down at you. “Gonna let yourself be caught by the big bad wolf?”

You’re supposed to be telling this man about his son’s misbehaviour, giving him all of the paperwork that Gojo had thrust at you, getting him to say he’ll talk to his kid and try and make sure that it won’t happen again. You shouldn’t be tipping your head back further, letting his fingertips lodge dangerously in the hollow of your throat, flirting with the place where your windpipe is. You shouldn’t be breathing out, all of your pretty prissiness and good morals and pride disappearing where you stand in the face of one of your students’ really hot dad.

“Yes,” you breathe.

And Toji wastes no time.

3.

He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning your blouse; just drags his hand down, and the buttons pop off, scattering on the floor. You gasp at the show of strength, and Toji is still grinning, clearly enjoying that you’re admiring him. His hand pulls at the fabric, until your breasts are fair falling out of it, the blouse wrestles off your skin.

“You’re wearin’ something like this at work?” He asks you, giving a tug to the gore of your bra. You hadn’t done enough washing this week, and the one you’re wearing is all filmy white lace. “Almost like you knew I was comin’ huh?” His grin is crooked. You tremble as you reach behind you, undoing the clasp – and for that, you get a murmur of ‘good girl’ that has your knees turning to jelly.

He whistles as the bra drops from you, his gaze admiring. He takes in the spill of your breasts, the little peaks of your nipples. He takes handfuls of them, squeezing them in his big hands, his fingertips digging in so painfully you can imagine that you’ll have bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow. The idea doesn’t disgust you.

He lowers his head to kiss you. He’s not gentle with you for a moment – his teeth immediately nip at your bottom lip, kissing you hungrily like you’re the first taste of sugar for a man who’s lived on nothing but bread for months. His tongue licks at your lips, begging entrance – dancing against your own when you helplessly open those same lips, demanding in the exact same way Toji is.

He pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger, delighting in how quickly the bud hardens. He rolls it between them, toying with it, enjoying the soft noises you make that get caught in his mouth. If he wasn’t kissing you, he thinks, you’d be bleating like a lamb right now. Huffing and whimpering. When he finally gets his cock in you, he’ll have to remember to clap a hand over your mouth so you don’t attract too much attention.

Your other nipple is given the same treatment, hot lightning bolts of pleasure ricocheting from the touch of Toji’s calloused fingers to the spot between your legs. You’re grateful for how solid Toji is – if he were any less so, you’re sure you’d be buckling over where you stand.

He pulls back with a final, marking nip to your lower lip, almost hard enough to make you bleed. You whine, and a dark chuckle spills out of his lips in response.

“Toji,” you whimper as he pulls away. You miss the feel of his body pressed against yours like a physical ache. His hands encircle your thighs, pushing you up onto the edge of Gojo’s desk, clever fingers already pushing your tight pencil skirt up so it’s bunched around your waist.

He kind of misses ‘Mr Fushiguro’ now it’s gone, but the sight of your stockings digging into your thighs soon chases the thought from his mind. He guesses your skirt is more than long and tight enough to make sure nobody gets a glimpse, but oh . . . that you’d be walking around all day, like that, with nobody to fuck you silly--

He can’t help but let his hands knead the soft skin, the flesh, his thumbs imprinting so hard in the plush that you squirm. He’s pressing your thighs apart, now – revealing the modest underwear, the soaking wet patch where he can see the outline of your plump labia lips.

With your legs spread, he can smell how turned on you are. Oh, yeah – he knows your type, alright.

“Ain’t you cute?” He says, chuckling. “You really want me to do you over this desk?”

“You can’t leave me like this--” Your voice is reedy, breathy, almost petulant – at another time, he’d make you beg for it. He’d take his time over you. But although the idea of being caught fucking the cute little teacher’s aid is briefly appealing, he doesn’t really want to make a whole load of trouble for himself when his cock is practically begging to be sheathed inside your wet holes. “Please--”

It’s the please that does it. It’s always the ‘please’ that does it for Toji. He chuckles, smirks, crooked grin – all of it feels like it’s mixing together in your mind, your throat very dry as nothing seems to matter right now except the fact that your sex is practically pulsing with how empty it is, and you think that the hot hard stiffness pressing against your thighs would really help alleviate some of that.

“Aww,” he says, fiddling with his zip and underwear, grabbing his cock and giving it a cursory pump just so you can admire the sheer size of him. “Don’t worry, little lamb. I’ll give ya what you need.”

He gets what he wants. Your eyes, as big and dark as the eyes of a doe – the soft choke of breath as you get to see the size of it, so big his own fingertips don’t quite meet. It’s the kind of cock that could ruin you for somebody else – and you’ve had sex before, of course, but you’ve never taken anything quite like that--

“That’s cute,” Toji murmurs, pressing forward, nestling his slick cock-head between your soaking wet thighs. “Wish you could have seen what a picture your face made just then. Afraid I’m gonna tear you in two?”

He might – he might, you think. But you pout at him and Toji’s cock throbs, as he glides the slick glans through the mess of your arousal, wetting himself even further. Your breath hitches, your hips doing a cute little jerk as it brushes your swollen clit. He can’t help himself but swirl the head over it some more, making your breath catch and whine, bleating like a little lamb--

He sinks his hips forward, and your fingers flex on the edge of the desk, knuckles white, at the relentless sear of his cock driving you open. You feel so stretched out, and he’s barely a third of the way in – he can’t help but watch your expression. He always likes to see someone the first time they’re impaled on his cock – the glassy eyes, slack jaw, the pleasure-cum-pain in their faces. He wants to take a picture of you and keep it in his wallet so he can pump one out to the sight of you when he’s on business trips and too busy to go out and find himself a hole to fuck.

“How’s that feel?” He asks you, so soft and low that you barely catch it. Another slow inch. He lets you feel every ridge, every vein, every bump of his shaft. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“F-full—” you gasp.

“I bet,” Toji replies – and then, he bottoms out inside you. His eyes look down to where the two of you are joined; the slick fluid leaking out of you, all heat and needy. “You fit me like a glove.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment, at the lewd way he’s looking at your spread open cunt – the way your hole is fluttering around him, the peeking pearl of your clit. He’s studying you like he wants to learn you by heart.

“Head’s up,” he says. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You’re about to open your mouth, and ask him what he’s doing right at that moment if he hasn’t started fucking you yet – but then, he’s dragged almost the entire length of his cock out of you in one savage thrust and is immediately spearing it back into you, his pace brutal. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back hitting the solid, flat surface of Gojo’s desk so that you’re flat out with your thighs wrapped around Toji’s hips.

If he weren’t so entranced by the feel of your walls fluttering around him, trying to suck him in further and deeper, so tight that you’re basically a vice, he’d grab you by your hair and force you to stay seated whilst he fucked you. But right now, you feel so good that all he can think about is his own release. The wet sounds of his cock gliding in and out of you, the squelch of your arousal and slick making every pump easier and easier. You feel so good. You’re tighter than he even imagined you could be, so good that he kind of wants to take you home and have you take up permanent residence in his bed.

You’re moaning, your back arching with every one of his thrusts – taking it admirably. There’s pain in your moans, yes – he supposes he could have prepared you better, had you come on his fingers a couple of times, if time were not of the essence – but they’re the pained moans of someone who likes to be hurt a little bit.

With every rock of his cock inside of you, he hits some new spot that you’ve never had stoked before, makes the heat and need inside of you swim just a little bit closer to the forefront. You don’t even notice you’re moaning and whining until a big hand slaps over your mouth, rough, hot palm against your lips, smearing your lipstick.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet,” Toji says to you, through those savage thrusts of his cock inside of you. “You don’t want your . . . your fuckin’ . . . anyone walkin’ in on you being railed by your student’s dad, do you?” You shake your head, but he feels the throb of your cunt around his cock, the way your walls contract, and he adds it to the store of things he’s learning about you. Always the quiet ones, right? Always the proper ones who look as though they’ve never even seen a cock--

The feel of him inside you is absolutely dizzying, so much and so full that you can no longer think. His cock batters against a certain place in your channel, a textured wall – and before you know it, everything is going dizzy and black and white like exploding fireworks, your chest bursting into heat, your inner walls getting so tight around Toji as you come that he thinks you’ll be the one to fucking break him.

Oh, you’re adorable, creaming on his cock – the slick gush of your arousal around him, the dreamy cast in your eye, the fact he can feel you drooling against his palm. He increases the speed of his own thrusts, chasing his release through the weak aftershocks and smaller pulses of you around him, through the over-sensitive squirming of your cute little cunt, the fact that tears are pooling in your eyes at how much everything is suddenly feeling--

He groans and the hand still clinging to your thigh is suddenly pressing so hard you think he’ll snap your bone, ragged breath;

“Fu—fuuuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna take it all, that’s right, good girl--” in between belaboured, ragged pumps, his cock twitching as he manages to pull out at the last moment and his release spills all over your thighs, luridly glistening wet in the overhead fluorescent lights.

That’s another moment he’d take a picture of, if he could.

He’s not the kind of man who waits around. He gives himself ten seconds, to catch his breath, to admire your plush thighs painted with his come, before he’s tucking himself back into his trousers and zipping zippers and doing buttons. He shoves his hands into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a second – double checking he’s left nothing of his in the classroom.

Yep. All clear.

He turns to leave, air of cocky confidence back – you only just see the shifting muscles in his back as he turns to go, leaving you where you are. You’re lucky he’s so tall, or you’d probably barely have seen him in front of the door frame (you didn’t even lock the door, anyone could have walked in at any time! You don’t even want to know what Gojo would say if he’d walked in to his aid being fucked like a slut across his desk).

“W-wait,” you say, weakly, still sprawled over the desk with his come cooling on your thighs. You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows, but your entire body feels like it’s just taken a battering. He takes a look back at you from the door, dragging a big hand through his hair, his crooked grin still on his face. You look so pretty like that – all fucked out and messy, the shine taken off of you. “T-the paperwork--”

You’re not sure where said paperwork is. Underneath you, maybe? You hope it didn’t get soaked.

“Told ya’,” he says, dismissively. “I’m just gonna throw it in the trash. Thanks for the fun, sweetheart. See y’around, huh? I should do stuff for the kid’s academic career more often.”

The door slams shut behind him.

[youryanderedaddy]

The First Shot Is A Warning

Tw: Authoritarian Regime AU, female reader, Activist!reader, non - con, dub - con, violence, blood, minor character death, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, imprisonment, objectification, political dystopia setting, mention of drugs, unrealistic potrayal of left - wing totalitarianism

chapter i, chapter ii, chapter iii, chapter iv, chapter vi, chapter vii, chapter viii, chapter ix, chapter x, chapter xi

chapter v

A little more than half an hour had passed since your escape attempt had failed miserably, so now you were back in your room, sitting on the bed. Oscar was kneeling by it, trying to put a pair of plain white socks on your cold shivering feet. Everything about it made you feel sick – the pure whiteness, the sterile smell of new fabric, the way the authoritarian kept caressing your ankles, touching you carefully as if you were fragile, made of glass, just waiting to break into million tiny pieces. If the statist wanted to fix something broken so badly, your heart was a much better place to start. Ypu wanted to scream your pent up frustration out in his stupid handsome face, maybe tell him to fuck off and give you some personal space, but after the little stunt you had pulled not long ago, it was safer to shut up and sulk in silence.

“Do you still have a headache, princess?” Your captor looked up for a moment, and straight into your eyes. There was something pitiful in his gaze, a flashing sense of guilt in a forest of selfish accusations. You shook your head no, wincing at the nickname you once used to love on his lips, adore even. Only now did it come to you the implication of it – that in the general’s eyes you were just a spoiled child with stupid idealistic beliefs and in need of authority to push them back on the right path. Screw him, screw him, screw him and his stupid government. “You…” The soldier started off, reaching to take your hand into his own. You looked away, stiff fingers curling into a fist to escape the warm touch on your cold skin. You actually liked the cold, the sense of freedom that the rain, the snow and even the biting wind provided in the middle of the night. Something that felt forever lost in that big warm room. Too warm and never big enough to separate the two of you.

“Please don’t try to run away again. You will end up injured. The senate is full of people who wish for your death.” The man picked up once again, finally overcoming the distraction of attempting to read your thoughts on your stone motionless face, devoid of any type of hint. You gritted your teeth, an ugly bitter grin lifting the corners of your rosy lips up. “Death, huh? Really, Oscar?” You mocked, eyes once soft and sincere now full of nothing but spite. “I never thought you capable of genocide, but I guess I was wrong.” You spat out, jaw tightening as the hot anger you had drowned to the bottom of your mind bubbled yet again and finally spilled all over the place.

“That’s what you said in your little speech, didn’t you? It's what you promised. A brighter future with no bloodshed. A better future for everyone.” You whispered, suddenly reaching out to shake his shoulders, hoping that would bring his senses back in. “A new beginning.” You had been there on that rainy day, in Kah square in the center with you black hoodie on so you would mix in with the crowd. Back then you had let yourself be hopeful, and perhaps naïve too, because you had desperately wanted each honeyed word, falling so easily from Oscar’s lying lips to be true.

“Y/N, I swear I don’t want it to be this way either.” The authoritarian spoke out, voice tired and defeated. Like he had already had this conversation thousand times in the past, and he probably had. “I don’t want to kill everyone who opposes us, but I can’t…” The brunette gulped dry, trying to find the perfect words for the way he felt, all for nothing. No matter what he said he knew deep down that you would only see it as an excuse, as a justification for something horrible, something inhumane. A case of history repeating itself in the worst way possible. “I can’t really do anything.” He uttered at last, cheeks turning red with shame. It was one thing to do it, and entirely another to confess it out loud.

“The partisans think that this is the best way to go about it, and I can’t just disobey their orders. I aslo can’t stay out of the picture.” The general sighed – he could see you sneering, he was losing you already. “It’s my duty. My destiny in life is to fight for a better world, it has always been.” He said, his black orbs dilated, almost sparkling, overflowing with aspiration at the only thought that had kept him going in the first place when everyone else had turned their back on him. He could only hope you would see it the same way and finally understand why he did what he did. He had to.

“You chose this.” You asserted, voice cold and emotionless, low as hiss, collected. Not even trying to pretend or make – believe a feeling you couldn’t bother to create or fathom. “It was your decision to join them.” You observed, mercilessly pinning the full blame onto the authoritarian just like he had expected, which didn’t ease the sting in his heart. He wished he could taste the blood of your cherry lips on his tongue, instead of this awful sour aftertaste of chagrin. Hell, he should have bit the soft flesh himself. “But I didn’t choose to be here, just like the people you forced under your rule.” You glared at the man you had once called your friend (your lover?), boring a wide gaping hole into his soul. “You made it happen, Oscar. You led your army against thousands of innocent citizens to please your superiors.” You inhaled deeply, your whole body was shaking furiously.

“And the rebels too. You killed them, didn’t you? You promised me you wouldn’t, and it was a lie. That woman, Sophia, she must have wanted them dead, and you wouldn’t disobey a direct order even if it would eat at your conscience until the end of your little miserable life. I know you.” You blabbered on and on, curse after curse, having forgotten about the many dangers of provoking your captor. The only person who stood between you and those who wouldn’t hesitate before putting a bullet through your skull.

“I…” The soldier uttered, sweat forming under his brows. “It’s true that I did it, but I had to.” He rationalized, raising his voice to stop you from interrupting before he was done. He couldn’t really make up coherent sentences while you were still speaking, too entranced and hypnotized by the swing of your hips and the sincere emotion in your pupils. “There was no other way for me to put the fabric of our utopi –”.

“And was all this bloodshed worth it, S? Did your utopia make you happy?” You cut him off anyways, the silver arrow hitting the bull’s-eye right in the middle. You looked almost condoling now, pitying the sad pathetic man with your narrowed eyelids and that cruel, scornful, sad little smile on your lips you knew he couldn't stand. Oscar couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you so close you could hear his wild uneven heartbeat. The authoritarian claimed your lips in a sloppy wet kiss, all teeth, aggression and tongue, bruising and heavy, and so, so sweet after all those months of nothing, but black bitterness. Still you fought back, pushing at his chest with all the strength in your weakened body, but eventually gave up and melted into it, the nostalgia and the pain turning you light – headed, clouding your proper judgment. The lieutenant’s arms felt secure, familiar, it was your lover’s face, your lover’s mouth, but the words that spilled out of it belonged to someone else. Someone you could never love back.

“That’s why you’re here.” The monster snarled against your neck, just as animalistic in his love as he was in his hatred, and he wasn’t sure which feeling prevailed just yet. All he knew was that he wanted to devour you right here, right now. His prisoner, his love, his trophy. To prove you wrong, to prove you right, to do anything, everything to shut you up, just to show you that it wasn’t a smart move to drive a predator into a corner when your only weapon was your still bleeding, barely thumping heart. “To make me happy. To satisfy me the way no one else can.” The general purred as he painted your neck in painful love bites, marks of ownership, pathetic mockeries of kisses, all in blue, purple and red.

You choked on your sobs, and Oscar licked your wet cheeks, not even giving you the simple comfort of feeling the tears run down your skin, tickling it softly. You didn’t know what you were doing, what you were saying, sobbing out loud – you had driven the beast to the point of no return, to madness. There wasn’t coming back after that.

“Be mine, beloved.” The man demanded of you, his pretty little prey. Stuck on the bed with no way out, his right hand reached to undo the your bra and groping at the soft vulnerable flesh of your full breasts, toying with the rosy buds, exposed to his hungry eyes like a feast. All thoughts of revolution, war and injustice had evaporated into nothing, replaced by deep yearning to touch, feel and devour. “Love me, fear me, judge me with those big pretty eyes of yours, I don’t care.” The general muttered, tone usually strict now full of both endless tenderness and immense ferocity. “Just don’t leave my side.” Barely a breath.

His free hand tugged at the waistband of your plain white panties, scarlet blush adorning your sides at the sudden contact. “Don’t leave me to the nightmares again.” The sounds were getting quieter, needier. His long, slender fingers were slipping down, down, down until they were met with even more open flesh for them to explore. He bit at your collarbone, sucking on the sensitive sweet spot of your jugular and only letting go after a hideous bloody mark had formed. It felt like a dream, you had left your body long ago, you were simply watching it happen, and really participating in the transgression. You wanted to be numb again, or high, or too hot to feel any of his hot desperate touches. It made you feel dirty, dirtier, the dirtiest you’ve ever been. And then you felt the digits move inside of you – in and out, in and out in an almost robotic fashion.

The pain was bearable, but it was unending, burning, stinging. Your entrance was tight, and it clenched around the fingers (you weren’t sure how many there were anymore) that stretched it beyond the limits of comfort. And uncomfortable it was, because you genuinely wanted it to be. You wanted to be disgusted by Oscar's forceful affection, his oppressive love, his oppressive touch. You didn’t like the tingling pleasure underneath the repulsion and the fear. And you couldn’t even begin to process the reason why your heart tightened and fluttered each time the authoritarian stopped his act of violation to kiss you softly or to whisper words of reassurance, of adoration. All the slaps, followed by a flower apology.

“I love you, sunshine.” The general had moaned when he came, painting your plush naked thighs in sticky white, and you could vaguely remember wondering whether it was the truth or the blissful ramblings of a man living in the moment, fully possessed by lust. The soldier was insatiable, stealing even more than you thought you could give – he claimed your lips, your ankles, your stomach, your breasts. Had you in every position, in every corner of the room, until it smelt like nothing, but sex, sweat and violence. Until your tears left a permanent stain on his neck, and he could swear, although behind a curtain of shame, that it could become his favorite perfume as long as it was his alone, to put on and extract whenever he needed.

It was early into the night when the general finally felt like he had quenched his thirst, having drowned in the your soft, pliant,malleable body, having lost himself completely in your soft inviting flesh. You were both naked, laying down on the bed and breathing heavily, your eyes wet and puffy – just like two wounded animals. You were staring at the ceiling, static noises buzzing in your mind on full volume. Too bad you didn’t have the remove in hand or the will to stand up and turn it down. Oscar was silent, enjoying the quiet before the storm unfolded.

“Why did you leave me after the war?” You mumbled out of the blue, so close to falling asleep, yet clinging to the painful dread of staying awake. Your voice was monotone, but it was hardly a surprise. You could have laughed at the predictability of every event so far and your own reactions if your throat didn’t hurt so much. Or your lungs. It was a big, sad, miserable cliche.

You would have laughed if your body had allowed you to. You would have laughed if there was anything to laugh about at all.

“I wasn’t deserving of you back then.” The man replied in a static synchrony, closing his eyes shut tight shortly after. He didn’t want to hear the inevitable answer he already knew you'd spit out with poison, but he could already picture you saying it, screaming it. “How ironic, S”.

But much to his surprise you didn’t say anything.