#if i repeat any it’s not on purpose it’s because i’m bouncing all around

[vinelark]

Can we get a wip Wednesday in honor of don't take the money being my top listened to song of the year? (Absolutely no pressure!! Have a lovely lovely Wednesday!!)

a little wipwed! the section i’m working on now is one i’m trying not to spoil, but here’s a snippet from an earlier scene 🫡

—

“And the guy,” Kon says. “The one who did this. You got him, too?”

“Oh, yes,” Nightwing says. And that tone is one Kon recognizes: satisfied with a vicious edge, just a flash of steel underneath each word. The last time Kon heard that was in the basement. Tim saying, Wanna check my work? with blood on his teeth. “We got him.”

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

[sweetshuga]

Heather ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

bsf!matt! When he talked about how much he missed his ex—totally oblivious to your feelings. [Light angst]

wc. 1.2k

note. English is not my first language! Requested!

Today was just like any other day, mundane to say the least. You had rolled out of bed, washed up, ate breakfast and wore comfy lounge wear. You were just about to watch a movie when your phone rang. Putting the bowl of snacks and the remote down, as you took the call.

Your face immediately lit up with a grin when you heard his voice, suppressing the urge to giggle and kick your feet as you felt that giddy and light feeling. The conversation flowed naturally as you talked, smiling to yourself.

Matt suggested a movie night through the phone, making your grin wider, and of course you said yes. It would’ve been stupid not to.

The drive to his place wasn’t long, but the rain made it a bit difficult to drive. It was raining like cats and dogs—probably the most rainy day in months. It wasn’t raining when you walked out of the house, but it was pouring halfway through the drive.

You groaned in annoyance when you saw the traffic jam in front of you, slowing down your car since it was slippery with all the rain. The time ticked slowly, as slow as the traffic that barely moved an inch.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Matt saying that he already prepared the snacks and not to worry about it. You chuckled to yourself – you were thinking about stopping by a grocery store on your way – before replying with a simple "okay, be there in a bit, traffic jam, yikes".

You finally pulled up at their place, looking in the visor mirror to make sure you looked alright. Sighing as you got out of your car, just to get heavily rained on as you briskly walked to their front door, giving it a few knocks. Nick opened the door and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he let you in, "You’re soaked," he stated the obvious.

"Pause," he laughed, "shut up, but really, did you fucking walk here? You’re drenched." You shook your head, purposely making the water in your hair go everywhere, eliciting an annoyed groan from Nick. "No, I didn’t, but I did walk here from my car."

"Your car? The one parked right beside our front door?" You laughed heartily at his disbelieving tone, "kid, it’s raining like a fucking waterfall, just a few seconds and I’m wet— pause." Matt walked out of his room at the sound of the chattering downstairs, "Hey, you’re finally here!" He called out from the top of the staircase.

You looked up and playfully rolled your eyes, "yes, finally here, because of a certain someone I nearly drowned in the rain outside." Matt laughed and walked down the stairs, his hair bounced with his steps, looking as good as always.

"Was that funny?" You asked Nick, making him shake his head with a judging look on his face, "where’s Chris by the way-" "he’s sleeping, c’mon let’s go watch that movie, I’ve been waiting for you, you know?"

"I think I know that much," you let yourself get dragged upstairs and into his room, hearing Nick shout that he was gonna nap as well before the door closed behind you with a soft click.

𓆩♡𓆪

The first movie ended rather quickly and as you two scrolled through the catalogue to watch another one, Matt suddenly seemed a bit tense, like he had something to say but didn’t know if he should. And of course you noticed it, you were looking at him the whole time, after all.

"You okay? Y’seem a lil’ tense," he sighed softly, "it’s nothing–" your skeptical look combined with the overall cozy vibe of the room broke down his resolve as quickly as he built it and he spilled his guts out. "Fine, just don’t look at me like that."

You listened intently, making sure he knew that you were listening. "And I don’t know... I just miss her, a lot." You froze, but quickly composed yourself, not wanting him to catch that. "Your ex? Y’still miss her?" Repeating his words, unable to grasp your head around what he just said.

He simply nodded, "I just feel like I did a mistake letting her go like that you know? I should’ve fought for her," you felt a tinge of sadness, you had thought that he finally moved on. It didn’t help that he was giving you mixed signals lately, being clingier than usual, jokingly calling you pet names.

He sighed and kept on telling you how much he missed his ex and how much he wanted her back, and the more he spoke, the worse you felt. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you knew it would look odd if you start crying.

Desperately trying to gulp back your tears as you listened to him passionately talk about his ex. She was beautiful, smart and just the epitome of a dream girl. He was none the wiser to the tears starting to stream down your face, still rambling on about his and his ex’s happy memories.

You wanted to just run out of there, embarrassed, but the heavy rain had become a thunderstorm outside. You couldn’t possibly drive back home, it would be too dangerous, but you couldn’t just sit there and let your heart break more than it already has.

That’s when you accidentally let out a quiet chocked sob, and Matt immediately tensed and looked at you. "Hey... why... why are you crying?" His voice was soft and concerned as he spoke, the gentleness made your tears stream faster. Your face heated up in embarrassment that he caught you crying.

You stood up abruptly and wiped your tears, "It’s nothing, something got in my eye." Even you knew your excuse sounded like a bunch of bullshit, but what could you say otherwise? That you cried because you thought he finally reciprocated your feelings but was still hung over his ex? "Hey, wait, what—" he called after you as you walked out, making a lame excuse about needing the bathroom.

Once inside the bathroom, you sat on the floor, hugging your knees. You made sure to lock the door, after all, you didn’t want Nick or Chris to catch you crying. A soft knock came on the door, once, twice, and on the third he spoke. "Please, open up."

You kept quiet, not trusting your voice, and just listened to him talk. "I don’t know why you were crying earlier, but talk to me, pretty... Tell me, you know I would listen to you, please?" Your heart ached at the pet name, how could he call you names like that when he couldn't even reciprocate your feelings for him?

You knew it was just something between friends, but that made it hurt more—the realisation that you were just a friend. You were envious of any and every girl he dated or liked, they had the privilege to be liked and loved by the guy you desperately wanted.

After a stubborn silence, he finally picked up on the hint. You said nothing as he sighed and walked away from the door, his footsteps fading down the hall. You couldn’t believe he didn’t try any harder, he had just left like that after a few minutes of trying to talk to you, it all added to the hurt you were feeling.

Your heart ached painfully as more tears fell down your face, but what could he possibly do when you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom and refused to open it—

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key twisting in the bathroom door lock.

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 1,279

pt. 2 3 Bonus

Masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 Taglist

Taglist: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @queenshet @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya @h3arts4nat @moosegirl96 @sofiaaguilaxx

© sweetshuga (& the anon that requested this, luv u<3)

[just-jordie-things]

bad at flirting - fushiguro megumi

word count: 6.2k warnings: swearing + second hand embarrassment summary: megumi doesn't know he's bad at flirting, but his friends are happy to help him! ___

Megumi is totally, absolutely, downright terrible at flirting.  He can’t lay down a vibe to save his life.  Not once has he had the intention of flirting and actually made the person he’s flirting with realize that he’s flirting with them.  It might not be often that he’s attempted to get a girl’s phone number, but it’s never worked.

And to make matters worse, he has no clue.

His friends don’t realize just how badly he needs their help until she comes around- and even then, it’s two months of her attending Jujutsu Tech that they realize the poor boy’s been trying to flirt with her.

It’s Yuuji that spots the odd interaction first.

Megumi had been walking with her, clearly listening to whatever she was talking about that Yuuji couldn’t hear from where he was hanging out on the front steps of the main building.  But he was close enough that when Megumi noticed him, Yuuji gave him a wave and a grin.

The ravenette gives a short wave back- if you could call raising a hand for two seconds before begrudgingly shoving it back into his pocket a wave- before turning towards her again.

He says something Yuuji can’t quite hear, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and she replies with a nod and a smile, before turning and walking off on her own.

When Megumi makes his way to Yuuji, the first thing he notices is his rosy complexion.

Yuuji doesn’t think he’s ever seen Megumi blush.  The sight makes him snort before laughing.

“What was that all about?” He asks, half teasing as he stands up.

“What do you mean?” Megumi replies, almost dumbly.

“You’re blushing!” Yuuji cackles loudly.  “She must've said something” 

“Not really,” Megumi shrugs.  “Just happens when I flirt” He adds in a mumble.

Yuuji’s entire world shatters around him.  His laughter ceases, his jaw drops, and he’s staring blankly at his friend as if he’s never seen him before.

Megumi? Flirting? Blushing? (y/n)? Megumi’s flirting with (y/n)? On purpose? 

His brain computes it all at once in a fast, sloppy mess of thoughts.  But when it dawns on him, his face splits with a wide beam

“Oh my god you like (y/n)!?” He’s practically screeching with joy.

Megumi tries to scowl, but his pink face betrays him, and it only makes him look more adorable.

“I had no idea!” Yuuji’s bouncing on his feet now, “How long have you liked her? How long have you been flirting with her? What’d you say anyways? Does she flirt back? You got good moves?” 

“I guess,” Megumi shrugs, his hands awkwardly fumbling together.  

He’s never really had a crush on anyone before, not like this anyways.  And he’s definitely never had anyone to talk about a crush with before, so he was fairly nervous talking about it now.

“Liked her for a while,” He mumbles, looking anywhere but Yuuji’s expectant, excited face.  “Probably since she got here.  So… I guess I’ve been flirting with her the whole time” 

“That’s adorable,” Yuuji gushes.  “You guys do spend a lot of time together.  Have you gone on any dates?” 

“Yeah, I train with her all the time,” Megumi replies, all too surely.  “And we study, too” 

Yuuji furrows his brows.

Oh, no.

“Training and studying?” He repeats, confused.

Megumi nods his head.

No Megumi, no.

“Those aren’t dates,” Yuuji tells him.  “Dates are movies.  Or ice cream.  Or a picnic, or… well, anything other than training and studying.  Those are just chores you’re doing together” 

“But it’s just the two of us,” Megumi explains.  “And I’m flirting with her” 

“Okay…” Yuuji still sounds unsure.  “Well, how much are you flirting? Give me a line” 

“A line?”

“Yeah, like, tell me something you say to her when you’re flirting” 

“Okay… uh…” Megumi thinks for a second, before smiling to himself and nodding with certainty that he’d remembered a good one.  “She started training with daggers, and I told her she was smart because she’s best with close combat fighting” 

He’s grinning, the poor guy is so proud, and Yuuji can’t help but wince.

“So you… you told her she was smart?” He asked, just to be sure he’d heard him right, and Megumi nodded.

Yuuji sighs, and shakes his head.

“No… no Megumi that’s not flirting,” He huffs.  “I mean, it’s a compliment, but, like, anyone can tell her a compliment- hell, she probably already knew that dude” 

Megumi’s brows draw together, confused at the feedback.  It was his understanding that complimenting her fighting style was flirty- it wasn’t just feedback or critique, it was personal, and therefore intimate.

“So… so she probably didn’t pick up on it?” He asks.  Yuuji nods.

“She for sure didn’t pick up on it dude,” Yuuji tells him.  “But that’s alright, we’ll figure out some other ways of flirting and see what works best for you!” He tells him eagerly.

“Uh… okay… are you sure?” Megumi’s fingers are tangling together again.

“Of course!” Yuuji claps a hand on his shoulder and shakes him in a friendly manner.  “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make sure you landed the girl of your dreams!?”

Megumi’s blushing again. ___

“It’s simple,” Yuuji’s voice rang in Megumi’s head as he tried to work up the courage to approach (y/n).  “Just offer to carry her things, and walk with her after class” 

He glanced to where (y/n) was packing her bag up at her desk.  Yuuji and Nobara had just walked out of the room- not without giving him a thumbs up for encouragement- and it was just the two of them left.

How hard could this be, anyways? He thought to himself, finally striding over to her desk.

“Hey, (y/n)” He greeted, albeit a bit awkward, but it was a start.

“Hey,” She smiled up at him as she zipped up her backpack.  “Weird lesson, right? I’m not convinced Gojo’s taken a single class on how to teach” She chuckles to herself.

“He hasn’t” Megumi answers, recalling a memory of the man tossing a textbook in the trash after Principal Yaga had told him to study up on to make him a more qualified teacher.

“Figures” (y/n) shakes her head, but she’s still smiling, so she must not be too annoyed with their teacher’s weird antics.

“Uh, so…” Megumi starts to work up to his offer, but she looks up at him then, and he has to take a deep breath before continuing.  “Can I… can I carry that for you?” 

He points to her backpack, sitting on top of her desk where she’d left it to give him her attention, and she follows his gesture as though she weren’t sure what he was referring to.

“My bag?” She questions.  “Are you off to the field, too?”

No, I’m supposed to meet up with Maki and Yuuta at the library, Megumi thinks, and he’s not a liar, so he doesn’t lie when he answers.

“No” 

(y/n) giggles to herself, before raising a brow at him.

“So you’re going to walk all the way out to the field and then leave?” 

His face feels hot.  His fingers feel twitchy.  Yuuji didn’t tell him what he was supposed to do now, and he felt like an idiot.

“Yes”

Good.  That was a good answer.

(y/n’s) still laughing, but it doesn’t sound malicious like he would have expected, seeing as he’s standing before her making a fool of himself.  It’s sweet.  It’s cute.

His face still feels hot.

“Alright,” She shrugs a shoulder, and hands him her bag.  “You on some step-tracking kick?” 

Victoriously, Megumi shrugs his arm through one of the straps, sliding it onto his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, something like that” He mumbles, because he’s a terrible liar. As they leave the classroom together, (y/n’s) still trying to suppress her laughter.

She hadn’t quite gotten a full grasp of who Fushiguro Megumi was.  He could be quite odd most days, never acting one certain way.  Some days he was mysterious and quiet, some days he was dorky, and some days he would say the most out of pocket things to her that she wasn’t quite sure how to react.  Nonetheless, she enjoyed his company, and was curious to get to know him better.

“What are you up to with your free afternoon?” She asks him, breaking the silence they’d fallen into since exiting the class.

“Just studying,” He shrugs.  “You?” 

“Training,” She shrugs back.  “I haven’t really done anything else since I got here.  Though I’ve been dying to go see Tokyo, I’ve never been” 

She peeks over at him out of the corner of her eye, a part of her hoping to find out if he was free this weekend.  Maybe if she played her cards right, she could find a way to spend some more one on one time with him.

“Oh really?” He hums curiously.  “It’s cool, I guess.  Probably cooler if you weren’t raised there” 

Her heart deflates a little, but she bounces back quickly and forces a smile.

“I’m sure,” She agrees quietly, with a small, awkward laugh.  “I guess it’s old news to you guys, huh?” 

“Nobara loves the shopping district, if that’s what you’re into, you should hit her up for a trip” Megumi tells her with a smile, certain with himself that he’s given her a great piece of advice, and also an outing with a new friend.

She can’t help but smile back at him, but there’s a sinking feeling in her chest that he wasn’t as interested in her as she thought he might have been, and her spirits dampen a little. “Good to know,” She replies.  “I’ll have to ask her if she wants to hang out sometime” 

She lets out a little sigh, her disappointment evident, but luckily they’ve reached the field, and she takes her bag from him.

“Thanks for carrying it, and walking with me,” (y/n) tells him.  “That was sweet of you, you didn’t have to do that” 

“I didn’t mind,” Megumi tucks his hands into his pockets.  “Good luck in training” He tells her with an all-too confident smile for a guy that didn’t realize the girl he was trying to hit on just gave him a clear opening- and he missed it completely.

“Thanks,” (y/n) hums.  “Good luck with studying” 

With that she’s heading off, and Megumi’s on his way back to the building, hoping Maki hadn’t left a bunch of threatening texts on his phone about him being late.  He’s just about to check when out of nowhere, his other two friends are racing towards him.

“Well? How was it!?” Yuuji’s grinning, certain that Megumi couldn’t have messed up such a simple, classic indication of romantic interest.

“Let me guess, she’s completely into you and you’re going out this weekend?” Nobara’s also grinning, her hands clasped together in excitement.

“Well, no, but she did want to go to Tokyo, so I told her you’d probably love to go” Megumi tells her.

Nobara and Yuuji pause, look at each other, and then their smiles drop and they’re both frowning at him.

“You’re kidding” Yuuji states, like it wasn’t even a question, because it had to be a joke.

“No,” Megumi shakes his head.  “I figured it’d help her be closer friends with-” 

“Idiot!” Nobara smacks the back of her hand against his shoulder, effectively cutting him off.  “Why wouldn’t you offer to go with her?”

Megumi opens his mouth to defend himself, but realization strikes and he shuts himself up before he could even try.  She was right.

Stupid! He scolds himself and slaps his palm to his forehead.

“It’s alright! It’s okay!” Yuuji scrambles to reassure his friend.  “You still did a nice thing for her and had some one on one time, so… next time let’s just try to get you two alone for a little longer and… and we’ll talk more about how to move things forward, alright?” 

He’s nodding at both Megumi and Nobara, hoping that she’d help pitch in to agree that he hasn’t completely blown it.

She rolls her eyes, but ultimately Nobara agrees to help.

(Clearly he needed all the help he could get) ___

Megumi wasn’t always the best at complimenting people, but complimenting (y/n) is what he’d been trying to do the past couple months, so Nobara suggested he focused more on that route.  Words of affirmation couldn’t go wrong, right?

However she did tell him he needed to be a little more… romantic in his choice of compliments.  

“Compliment her beauty! Tell her she has pretty eyes, tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, stuff like that” She’d said.

Saying something so intimate made his stomach do backflips, but if that’s what flirting was and that’s what would show (y/n) he liked her as more than a friend, then Megumi told himself he had to give it a shot.

And luckily a few days later, the perfect opportunity presented itself.

It was a nice day out and the two of them had made plans to study.  (y/n) had suggested they do so at one of the many picnic tables scattered around the courtyard, to properly enjoy just lovely weather.

So there they were, just the two of them, comfortably quizzing each other, when Nobara passed by, seemingly casually.  She makes a face at Megumi that he interpreted to mean ‘don’t fuck this up!’, but when (y/n) notices her, it’s nothing but smiles and waves.

“How does she look so pretty all the time?” (y/n) huffs, admiring the girl but clearly feeling a pinch of jealousy.  “I swear, it’s like she doesn’t even try” 

This is it! This is an opening! Megumi cheers internally, proud of himself for knowing this was the right time to say something, just like Nobara had taught him.

“It’s not like you’re trying” 

(y/n) blinks, her eyes meeting his as she tries to figure out what he just said, because it made no sense.

She must have looked just as confused as she felt, because he’s stammering suddenly, trying too hard to explain himself.

“I- I mean you aren’t- you don’t have to- try, I mean,” He’s stuttering over his words so much she can barely keep up with what he’s trying to say.

He drops his head in his hands, hoping to cool his rapidly heating face, and also hide his embarrassment.  He definitely fucked that up.  And now he’s making a bigger idiot of himself by hiding behind his hands like a child.  He wonders if he could convince his shikigami to kill him so he doesn’t have to look at her and further humiliate himself.

“What were you trying to say?” (y/n) asks, and to his surprise her voice is soft.  It’s not cruel, she’s not laughing at him, and she doesn’t seem to be teasing him at all.  The question sounds… genuine.

Megumi sighs, dragging his clammy palms down his face and keeping his eyes focused on the ground as if that would keep her from seeing his embarrassment.

“You don’t have to try to be pretty.  You just are” 

He’s still not looking at her, so he misses the way she grins, although she tries to bite it back.  The blush creeping up her neck is threatening to take over her whole face, and she’s positive she’s making a fool of herself for reacting so girlishly to the compliment, but she can’t help it.

“You’re just saying that,” She says, giggling as she shakes her head.  “You’re cheesing” 

“No, ‘m not,” Megumi mumbles, turning his attention back to the textbook in front of him.  “You’re very pretty” He adds in a quieter, almost too quiet, voice.

(y/n) blinked slowly, sure that when she opened her eyes again she would awake in her room, and this would all have been a silly dream.

But there he is, in front of her, furiously highlighting something, with a significant coat of pink over the bridge of his nose.  He’ll have to ask Nobara later how the hell he was supposed to keep this up, because there’s no way he could look her in the eyes with how hot his face feels.

Did flirting mean he’d always be a blushing mess?

Smooth talking was not easy.  And Megumi had a feeling he hadn’t quite been so smooth.  He’d have to find another way to flirt with her without making him shrink into the collar of his shirt.

Sparing his embarrassment, (y/n) dives back into their studies, asking him to quiz her with her flashcards again.  It takes a few minutes for him to stop stammering and blushing, but after a while he’s back to his usual self.  Maybe just a little more nervous than usual.  But (y/n) doesn’t mind.  In fact, she sort of likes it.

Yuuji comes by when they’re wrapping up their study sesh, hanging out and chatting with them both while they pack up their things.

While (y/n) is distracted with organizing her flashcards, the pink haired boy gives Megumi a grin, and a wink.  Megumi’s stomach drops in fear of whatever that was a signal for.

“So,” Yuuji starts, and Megumi mentally braces himself.  “Nobara and I got paired up for a mission tomorrow! So I guess it’s just you two for movie night” 

“Movie night?” (y/n) crinkles her brow, not recalling a plan for movie night.  “I’m sorry, did we have plans?” She asks sheepishly, embarrassed to have forgotten.

“That’s okay! No biggie, since it’s just you and ‘gumi here” Yuuji elbows his friend in the arm, maybe a little harsher than usual.

Was that supposed to be some signal to say something? Megumi casts his friend a confused look.  This was a stupid ploy anyways, there was no movie night.

“Don’t call me that” Megumi rolls his eyes in response, choosing to ignore the hint, whatever it meant.

“Okay,” (y/n) shrugs a shoulder, sending a smile towards Megumi.  “I mean, I’m free.  Is there already a movie picked out?”

Yuuji turns to his friend, smiling proudly that his plan worked, and he’d scored them some one on one time that wasn’t studying, for once.

“Uh, no, guess not” Megumi replies lamely, unsure of what kind of recommendation to make.

Truthfully, he preferred reading.  He didn’t hate movies, and he’d seen many in the past, but he didn’t know what (y/n) preferred, and he didn’t want to pick something she’d hate and make her change her mind.

“Great! I’ll pick one then,” She decides, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Megumi visibly relaxes.  Yuuji brings his fist to his mouth to hold back a laugh, but it’s not very discreet.

“Hope you like horror” (y/n) says

“Yeah, I, uh, horror’s good” Megumi stammers.

She laughs, and Yuuji decides this is a safe spot to end the interaction and all but drag Megumi away.  He bids (y/n) a cheerful goodbye as he shoves his taller friend away, leaving (y/n) confused but still laughing at the weird pair.

A moment later Megumi looks over his shoulder and gives her an awkward wave goodbye.  She returns it, smiling at him.

He’s a little far to be sure, but she swears, he’s blushing again.

Leading her to wonder if her suspicions were true.

Did Megumi have a crush on her?  ___

At this point, Yuuji and Nobara had pretty much threatened Megumi that if he couldn’t get his shit together for this movie night, they were going to take matters into their own hands to put him and (y/n) together.

“We’ve pretty much secured you a date, got it?” Nobara had snapped as she searched through his closet for just the right thing to wear.  “Do you know how hard it is to convince Gojo we need to go on a paired assignment?” 

“Uh… not hard at all?” Megumi had replied.

“Well… that’s true.  But it’s not how I wanted my Friday night to go!” 

He hadn’t loved letting Nobara go through his closet and dress him up like an oversized doll, but he also didn’t hate the end product.  It was simple, but the black jeans and dark green sweater must have been the right choice, because when (y/n) met him in the common room she’d smiled and complimented him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of uniform,” She’d joked as she plopped onto the sofa.  “You clean up nice”  

He hesitated for a minute before sitting beside her, suddenly all too aware that it would be just the two of them, for the whole night, on this couch.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not” He replied.

(y/n) took the remote and began searching for the movie she’d had in mind, but not before chuckling at him and shaking her head.

“Of course I’m not,” She says.  “I mean it.  You look nice.  You have good style, Megumi” 

Alright, so he’ll have to thank Nobara later, and also make sure to never get rid of this sweater.

“Thanks” He mumbles, the familiar feeling of a blush already creeping across his nose.

(y/n) finally finds the movie, and excitedly pushes play before tossing the remote to the coffee table in front of them.

“I love horror movies,” She tells him, settling back into the couch cushions.  “But you should know, I also hate them” 

Megumi gives her a confused look.

“You love them and hate them?” He repeats, not understanding.

“I think they’re great, but, uh, I hate jump scares” She admits, turning away from him to watch the intro credits.

“Well, everyone hates jump scares,” Megumi tells her, also focusing on the movie.  “But you exorcize curses scarier than any movie monster” He adds.

(y/n) bites her lip to keep herself from smiling too hard.

In all honesty, she’d been far too giddy about this movie night.  She’d spent too much time choosing just the right film to show Megumi, and just the right outfit to wear to seem as casual as possible.  She’d been crossing her fingers that her suspicions were true, that Megumi had the same crush on her that she had on him.  But being too nervous to outright ask him, she decided she’d do everything she could to make tonight the most perfect, easy going, fun night she could.

Megumi gets pretty immersed into the film, although with the intro alone he’s pretty much able to guess how the rest of the movie goes, he doesn’t mind.  It helps that (y/n) seems very into it, and keeps looking over at him to see his reactions to certain scenes.

About halfway into the movie, Megumi pauses it.

“Do you want popcorn?” He asks, and (y/n) breaks into a smile and nods at him.

Despite him offering to make two bowls and bring it out to her, (y/n) follows him into the small kitchen and waits with him while the bag is in the microwave.  She pulls herself up to sit on the counter while they wait.

“So what kind of movies do you like?” She asks, hoping to spend these few minutes getting to know him better.

“Oh,” Megumi laughs under his breath, wishing he was a better liar.  He decides a little truth to her question wouldn’t hurt.  “Actually, I kinda prefer to read” 

“Really?” (y/n’s) eyes light up.  “What do you like to read, then?” 

“Nonfiction mostly,” Megumi says with a shrug.  “I know, it’s boring” 

“I don’t think so,” (y/n) says, which he doesn’t expect.  “I actually love reading about science, and true crime” 

He does his best to hide it, but Megumi’s thrilled.  A common interest, Yuuji said to find a common interest and stick to it!

While the popcorn pops, Megumi asks more about the books she’s liked, and even asks for a few recommendations.  She promises to text him about them later so he won’t forget, and he promises he’ll read them.  (y/n) seems to be happy about this, and Megumi mentally cheers to himself.

Their salty treat is finished shortly enough, and Megumi grabs two bowls from the cabinet.

“You can just put it in one, I don’t mind sharing” (y/n) interjects before he dirties either of the smaller bowls.  “Unless that bothers you, of course” She adds.

“It doesn’t bother me” Megumi replies, swapping out the dishes for one larger bowl that could fit the whole bag.

(y/n) hops off the counter and snatches the bowl as she walks back into the living room, Megumi trailing closely behind her.

He takes the bowl back from her as he sits on the couch, and when she sits behind him, he realizes the beauty of sharing the popcorn.

“You better brace yourself, Megumi, because this is when the movie gets really scary” (y/n) says, and she sounds like she’s only half joking.

He musters a small laugh, but she’s sitting much closer to him than she was before so that they could share their snack easier, and his brain is getting foggy from the sweet smell of her shampoo.

Was it flowery or fruity? He wondered but couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

She wasn’t wrong, the movie did take a turn for the darker, although Megumi wasn’t really one to get genuinely scared from scary movies, (y/n) did flinch here and there at the jumpscares.  With the side of her thigh pressed against his, he could feel it every time her leg twitched.

Their eyes remained glued to the screen, lost in the movie as the main character tiptoed around the house with only a flashlight for lighting.  Megumi could understand now why everyone hated the main characters of these movies, they were always running off on their own and getting themselves into more trouble than necessary.  Although he is reminded of Yuuji.

Encaptured by the tv screen, they’re both blindly reaching for popcorn here and there, addicted to the buttery treat as soon as they’d started eating it.  As Megumi reached his hand over to snag another piece, he’d accidentally brushed his fingers over (y/n’s), not seeing that she’d also been grabbing some.

Anxiously, he pulls his hand away, turning to apologize right away.  But (y/n) looks over at him with a smile before taking a few pieces and popping them into her mouth, turning back to the movie, clearly unfazed.

From that alone, Megumi feels his face go hot, and he tells himself he’s not going to have anymore popcorn, just to save himself the embarrassment.

But, if he did have a craving for a few more pieces, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if his hand touched hers again… would it? 

He felt hot from his neck to his ears, and he’d already lost track of the last few minutes of the movie.  Meanwhile (y/n) only seemed to get more comfortable, tucking her legs up onto the couch underneath her, thus making her lean just the slightest bit more against him.  She was so close Megumi was holding his breath.  She didn’t even realize this until after a few minutes, she noticed he wasn’t eating.

“Am I hogging it?”

She was whispering, even though there wasn’t currently dialogue in the movie, so he wouldn’t have been all that distracted if she’d spoken normally.  However, when he looked down at her to ask what she meant, he’s immediately distracted again.

She’s so much closer to him now that when he looks down at her, her face is just a few mere inches away from his.  He doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to her, not even when training.  His voice catches in his throat, and he spends a good minute just silently staring at her with wide eyes.

(y/n) starts to blush under his intense stare and close proximity, but she doesn’t shy away from him, she simply repeats her question.

“The popcorn,” She clarifies, shaking the bowl with the remnants of their snack.  “Am I hogging it?”

Megumi’s eyes briefly flicker to it, but quickly return to hers as he shakes his head.

“No, you’re good,” He finally speaks, and finds that he’s whispering, too.  “I mean, I can always just make more, if you want” 

He’s talking slowly, like he’s not really sure of what he’s saying, but (y/n) doesn’t mind, or find it all too odd.  She’s quite enjoying getting an up close view of his face.  She allows herself to really take in all his features, the way his hair almost hangs over his eyes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the deep blue of his eyes, she’s getting positively lost in staring at him.  Even as the main character is screaming for their life on the tv in front of them, neither one of them loses their focus on the other.

Megumi’s mind is running wild, noticing the trail of her eyes everywhere they go.  As he’s admiring her, she’s admiring him, and he’s trying so hard to work up the courage to do something when her lashes droop low and her eyes land on his lips.

“And for the love of god, if the moment arises that you should kiss her, then fucking do it!” Nobara’s voice rang in his head.

He’s not sure how he landed himself in this perfect intimate moment, but he knows he shouldn’t waste it.

“I- I think you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” He stutters a little, but tries to ignore and keep this brief burst of confidence intact.  “And, I’m glad you wanted to, um, hang out” 

A small smile tugs at the corners of (y/n’s) lips, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering around even more from the flattering.

“That’s funny,” She murmurs.  “I was just thinking the same thing,” 

Megumi’s flustered, his heart is beating excessively, his face is hotter than it’s ever been, and his tongue is tied, but he smiles back at her, soft and warm and inviting.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, and he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat.  “Have you been trying to flirt with me?” 

(y/n) can’t contain the smile on her face as she asks him her question, too eager for his answer.  And when his blush darkens and his eyes momentarily stare down at nothing, her hopes only skyrocket.

“Trying” Megumi mutters the word she used back to her.

“So you have?” (y/n) giggles, leaning in closer to meet his eyes again.

Her eyes are so bright, Megumi can tell, even without the lights on in the common room, even with little to no light coming from the tv due to the dark setting of the movie.  She’s practically glowing with happiness.

“Yeah,” He admits nervously.  “I have” 

(y/n) moves the popcorn bowl off her lap, moving away from him briefly so she could set it on the coffee table, before leaning back towards him, just as close as she was before.  His instincts battle as half of him wants to lean back to give her space, and the other half wants to close the rest of the distance between them.

“Is that what all the compliments on my training were about?” She asks with a knowing smile.

Megumi nods his head shyly.

(y/n’s) giggling again, soft and angelic and he couldn’t possibly be upset that she’s laughing at him, because the sound is so sweet he’d do anything to make her laugh more.

“There wasn’t a movie night, was there?” She asks quietly.

He shakes his head this time.

“So… Yuuji just wanted to set you up, huh?” She asks again as she starts to put the pieces together.

Megumi raises a hand to the back of his neck awkwardly, but he knows he can’t really convince her otherwise, so he confesses.

“Yeah… he… said that I wasn’t doing a good enough job and that I needed a push” He admits, turning his head to the side to hide the now burning blush on his face.

“Well, that’s kind of silly, I thought you were doing a great job,” (y/n) says, and Megumi peeks back at her out of the corner of his eye.  “But I can’t complain, I’m just glad I got to spend more time alone with you, anyways” 

Slowly, he faces her again.

“You are?” He asks, unsurely.

(y/n) nods and gives him an affirmative hum.

“I thought you were just really into studying,” She teases.  “I didn’t think I’d ever get you alone for something fun” 

Flustering, Megumi tries to defend himself.

“I- I like fun stuff too” 

“Like what?” (y/n) asks.

Trying to think on his feet, he thinks back to what Yuuji had described to be actual dates.

“Ice cream,” 

He says it so surely, so confidently, that (y/n) has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from laughing this time.  She has a pretty good understanding of what he’s trying to say, but he’s just so damn cute.

Megumi cringes at himself, smacking his own forehead and wishing the ground would swallow him whole, because it was impossible to keep his sanity when he was talking to her.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that,” He assures her.  “I meant I like going out.  I would like to go out- we- we could go out-” 

“Megumi,” (y/n) ends his misery, reaching forward and tugging on his wrist so he’d remove his hand from his face.  “I would like to go out with you for ice cream” She tells him with a sweet smile.

He doesn’t know what he did to make this girl like him, because he’s pretty sure he’s made an idiot of himself every time he opens his mouth, but he thanks whoever is watching over him that he’s done something that works.

“Really?” 

(y/n) nods, her hand sliding into his, fingers slotting in the spaces between his.  Her hand is significantly smaller compared to his, and it’s so warm it’s almost comforting.  It is comforting.  He can feel his shoulders relax, and his heartbeat finally slowing to a normal pace.

“Really” She affirms.

The tv is flickering with the rolling credits of the movie they’d forgotten, and Megumi finally feels like he could have a grasp on this whole flirting thing.

“Can I kiss you?” 

(y/n) smirks.

“It’d be a shame if you didn’t” 

He didn’t need much more of an answer than that.  With his free hand wrapping around the back of her neck to draw her a few mere inches forward, his lips slant over hers and any embarrassment left in him disappears in a second.  (y/n) returns his kiss with fervor, letting his hand go so she could give into the intrusive thoughts that had attacked her all night, running her fingers through his hair, nails scraping slightly at the nape of his neck.

The sensation was enough to give him an ego boost, and Megumi drops a hand to her hip, pulling her closer until her chest leaned into his, and even still he pulled more, and more, until they couldn’t possibly be any closer.

His lips dragged over hers as his nose prodded hers to the side, tilting his head to deepen their kiss further.  A hum of approval traveled up her throat and vibrated gently against his mouth, and she could only sneak in a few more kisses until she had to pull on his sweater to make him stop so she could catch her breath.

Their blushing faces are mirrored now, both smiling shyly, and still clinging onto one another.

“Did Yuuji give you advice on that too?” (y/n) chuckled, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.  Megumi chuckles, his eyes falling to her now swollen lips.

“If I say yes, are you going to stand me up for our ice cream date?”

The pair giggle quietly amongst themselves, (y/n’s) arms wrapped loosely around his neck, Megumi’s arms wrapped loosely around her waist, neither one of them wanting to part even though their movie had ended and it was rather late into the evening.

“So it’s a date now?” (y/n) quirks a brow.

Megumi smiles, more sure of himself now than he has been in the last couple of months.

“Of course it is” 

(y/n) smiles back at him melting a little further into his embrace.

“So then I suppose that makes you my boyfriend” She adds cheekily.

Megumi raises a hand to curl his fingers under her jaw, his thumb stroking lazily over her skin.  He watches this movement for a minute as he relishes in the delight of being bestowed such a title.

He decides to steal the moment with a kiss, which (y/n) happily returns.  This kiss is softer than their first.  It’s also shorter, but just as passionate.  He’s smiling again when they part, resting his forehead against hers as he gazes fondly into her eyes.

“I suppose it does”  ___

this was supposed to be SHORT what did i DO

xoxo ~ jordie

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Seventy Five

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

You may notice that this finally has a number in place of the '?' for the number of chapters in this fic over on Ao3. I love Stained Glass Windows, but it feels like it is coming towards it's natural end - although don't worry too much, there are still 25 chapters to go!!

And, if there is an appetite for it, I do have plans for a wider set of shorter fics for this universe - just little insights into their lives and their family.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter - and as always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.4k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She was anxious. 

Before she had children and Aaron and the team around her - the family she’d found in the most unlikely of places - she’d never felt like this. Never experienced the fear and pre-emptive grief that came along with loving someone the way she did now. It was strange to look back on her previous self, to imagine moving through life purposely avoiding the connections she now couldn’t imagine her life without, the love and belonging that she felt worth every difficult moment that came hand in hand with it. 

She groans as her stomach rolls, her leg bouncing up and down as she stares at the clock on the wall of her doctor’s office, desperately willing for time to speed up, for the final minutes between her and her appointment to melt away.

“Sweetheart,” Aaron’s voice draws her out of her head, her eyes meeting his as he rests his hand on her knee and squeezes, stopping her leg from bouncing up and down as he smiles softly at her, “Everything will be okay.” 

She huffs out a breath, closing her eyes as her stomach rolls again, her nerves mixing in with the nausea that was had been constant for a week, “I know,” she swallows thickly, “I just…”

She drifts off, not sure how to put it into words, how to tell him that the anxiety that something was wrong had crawled under her skin. Despite her symptoms - her constant exhaustion, nausea that didn’t go away, a familiar ache in her breasts and an annoying persistent metallic taste in her mouth - she had convinced herself that she wasn’t actually pregnant. That somehow the half a dozen tests she’d taken were all wrong and she was imagining all the signs she’d experienced when she was pregnant with Lily.

“I know,” he assures her. He knew her well enough that sometimes she wondered if he could truly read her mind. He squeezes her knee again, his smile kind, his dimples carved out in his cheeks with endless patience and love for her, “But everything will be okay,” he repeats, “No matter what the doctor says in there.” 

She smiles tightly at him, “How can you be so sure?” 

He winks, his eyes sparkling, “Because everything is always okay when I’m with you.” 

She laughs, the sound forcing its way out of her chest, pushing past the anxiety that had settled there, and she shakes her head as she reaches out to run her fingers through his hair, “You are adorable,” her smile gets wider as he scrunches up his nose at her, “It’s a shame no one ever believes me.” 

He’s about to respond, his smile wry and comforting, when a nurse steps into the waiting room, “Emily Hotchner?” 

She tenses again, all the work Aaron had put into trying to calm her down gone in an instant. He squeezes her knee once more before he reaches for her hand, linking their fingers together as they stand up. 

She smiles and nods at the nurse, “That’s me.”

“Right this way, Mrs Hotchner,” the nurse says as she indicates a door down the hallway, “Dr Gibson is ready to see you.”

As they walk into the OGBYN’s office, Emily tries not to think about the last time she was here. Tries not to think about the miscarriage she’d had earlier that year, the very thing she knew was contributing to the endless anxiety thrumming under her skin. When they walk into Doctor Gibson’s office, they make polite small talk, Emily’s chest tight as they sit down opposite her doctor at her desk, her eyes fixed on the other woman’s face as she tries to read her smile. To see if there was anything lingering under her unshakeable professionalism. 

“I won’t leave you hanging, the blood tests confirmed you’re pregnant,” Doctor Gibson says, her smile getting wider when Emily almost sags in relief, her shoulders immediately lighter, “Based on the HCG levels I’d estimate about 7 weeks but we’ll have a look on the ultrasound to confirm.”

Emily huffs out a breath and her hand falls to her stomach, her thumb tracing back and forth below her belly button. Aaron squeezes the hand still firmly wrapped around his, and when she looks at him he’s smiling, his eyes shining with tears that make them look like deep pools of honey, and she wonders if this baby will have his eyes instead of hers. 

“I’m really pregnant?” She asks, not recognising her own voice, the way it cracks, happiness threatening to burst out of her chest, her ribs aching as it pushes at them from within.

She fleetingly feels embarrassed that she’s asking for confirmation again, as if she didn’t already know she was pregnant. As if she hadn’t taken numerous tests and kept the first one in a drawer in their bathroom, an uncharacteristic show of sentimentalism she’d allow herself this once. The feeling disappears as quickly as it had appeared, the smile on Doctor Gibson’s face kind and reassuring lets her know she deals with this all the time. 

“You’re really pregnant,” she confirms, “We have a few things to discuss, but maybe we could do the ultrasound first? Put you at ease?” 

Emily nods, “Yes please.” 

“Okay, you know the drill, Emily,” Doctor Gibson points towards the bed in the corner of the room, “I’ll step out to give you some privacy but pants and underwear off please.” 

Emily glares half-heartedly at Aaron when he offers to help her get undressed the moment they are alone, and it reminds her of when they saw Lily for the first time. When he’d had to help her take her pants off because she couldn’t do it herself, her entire body aching from the car crash that had brought her to the hospital in the first place.

She raises her eyebrow at him and hands him her pants and underwear, smiling softly when he folds them up and places them on a chair in the corner, something he’d clearly picked up from watching her do the same at previous appointments. She lays on the bed and pulls the thin blanket over her lap, immediately reaching for Aaron’s hand once she’s settled. He wraps both of his hands around hers and lifts it to kiss her knuckles. 

When Doctor Gibson walks back in the room Emily feels the anxiety spark back up, and she takes a deep breath, her eyes drifting closed as she tries to gather herself. Aaron kisses her knuckles again, and she squeezes his hand in silent thanks, a show of appreciation for his support, for the way he loves her. 

“Okay, Emily,” Doctor Gibson says as she sits down, “You’re going to feel some pressure from the probe.”

Emily nods, her grip on Aaron’s hand tightening as she clenches her teeth, her eyes still closed as the room falls into silence, the only sound the clicking of the buttons on the ultrasound machine. It feels like an age passes before Doctor Gibson talks again, Emily’s nerves increasing with each passing second. She hates it, hates that she’s already so controlled by her hormones, and she prays to a god she stopped believing in half a lifetime ago that she doesn’t feel this anxious her entire pregnancy, otherwise it was going to be a long nine, ten, months. 

“And there it is.” 

Her eyes fly open as she turns to look, and she gasps breathlessly when she sees it, a tiny blip of a thing on the screen, a white blob standing out against the inky blackness around it. She doesn’t think she’s seen anything as beautiful since the first time they saw Lily, when their rambunctious, sweet, adorable toddler was the same size. A tiny little thing with a lifetime of possibilities stretched out in front of them. 

“It’s okay?” She asks, her voice cracking again, “Everything looks good?” 

Doctor Gibson nods, “Everything looks right on track for how far along you are,” she smiles kindly as she points at the screen, “And that flicker right there is the heartbeat.” 

“There’s a heartbeat,” Emily says, choking on a sob, tears she’d usually be able to repress already spilling past her cheeks as she turns to look at her husband, unsurprised to find his tear filled eyes shining back at her, “Aaron, there’s a heartbeat.” 

“There is,” he confirms as he cups her cheek, wiping her tears away as he leans down to kiss her, his lips soft against hers, and she’s not sure if she’s tasting his tears or her own, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

___

“Do you want to find out what we’re having this time?” 

Emily looks up from the ultrasound photo in her hands and smiles when she looks at Aaron on the other end of the couch, her feet in his lap as he rubs them for her. 

“I don’t think so,” she replies, her lips pressed together again as she looks back down at the picture in her hands. She shakes her head, more decisive this time, “No. I want it to be a surprise,” she smiles softly when her eyes meet his, “It would be nice to be conscious this time when the baby is born, find out first hand whether we have a son or a daughter.” 

He squeezes her foot a little tighter, his thumbs pressing firmly into the sole and he sighs, memories from one of the scariest days of his life, which also happened to be one of the happiest, briefly overwhelming, “Em-”

“As nice as it was for you to be the one to tell me we had a little girl,” she says, cutting over him before they could get into the conversation about labour again, their differing opinions on it having revealed themselves during her doctor’s appointment, “I’d like it to be different this time.” 

One of the first things she’d asked Doctor Gibson, the ultrasound picture she’d been handed still clasped in her hand, was if she’d have to have a c-section this time. She wanted to avoid it if possible, wanted to have the birthing experience that had been ripped from under her last time, and Doctor Gibson assured her that depending on a couple of things as she got further along she saw no reason Emily couldn’t try. Aaron had been hesitant, spouting out statistics Emily wasn’t even aware he’d researched about complications that came from attempting a vaginal delivery after a cesarean. She makes a mental note to talk to him about it another time, to make it clear just how important this was to her, but today, in this moment, she just wanted to settle in the joy that they were expanding their family. 

He nods, “I just want you both to be safe.” 

She shifts closer so she’s sitting in his lap, her side against his chest as he wraps his arms around her, her head on his shoulder as they both look at the ultrasound picture, “I know. Me too. And I’ll do whatever the doctor recommends,” she assures him, tracing a finger over the tiny blob that was her baby, “But if it’s possible I want to try.” 

He sighs again, the fear he felt whenever he thought of Lily’s birth still sitting on his chest. It felt like he was right back there in that hallway, his wife and baby wheeled away from him as he had no choice but to sit there and hope for the best. His request for the doctor to save his wife if they could only save one of them stuck in his throat, a request he knew he’d make again now in a heartbeat if it came to it, their family now even more reliant on Emily’s presence than ever. He wanted her to do what she wanted to do, wanted her to have the experience he knows she feels she missed out on with Lily, but more than anything he wanted her alive and safe with him. 

“Sweetheart-”

“I think we should wait a little while to tell everyone,” she says, cutting him off again, making it abundantly clear she didn’t want to talk about it now. 

He closes his eyes and kisses the side of her head, swallowing down his concerns for now, all too happy to take her lead as long as they spoke about it eventually, “It’s up to you. Who would you want to tell first?” 

“Probably Jack,” she says, smiling softly as she pulls back to look at him, her nose scrunched up as the practicalities of that hit her, “Although we probably will have to tell Haley first in that case, it’s not fair to blindsight her.”

Aaron tightens his hold on her, one of his hands slipping down to her still flat stomach, “Jack is that little bit older now,” he says, stroking his thumb back and forth over her belly, “We can tell him and I can explain to him that I’ll talk to Haley when I take him back to hers. She won’t be blindsighted that way by Jack just announcing it, and we won’t have to tell my ex-wife before anyone else,” he smiles when their eyes meet, nothing but love reflecting back at her, “You come first in this, Em. You and this little one.” 

She cups the back of his head as she drags him in for a kiss, her forehead pressed against his as she breaks away, “Okay, so Jack first,” she scratches the back of his head, “And then the team? Then my mom I guess.” 

He kisses her in agreement, “We’ll have to get Lily used to sharing you.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and lightly bats at his shoulder, “She’s not that possessive over me.” 

He hums, his eyebrow raised as he tugs her impossibly closer, “She told me off for kissing you the other day.” 

“She didn’t tell you-”

“She said ‘my mama’ and slapped me on the shoulder,” he challenges her, his amusement painted across his features as he tries and fails to remain serious. 

“Okay fine,” she grumbles, “We have to work on that. But we have time.”

He smiles and cups her cheek, dragging her in for a kiss, “We have time.”

___

She groans as she spits into the toilet, her hand covering her mouth as she sits back against the wall, her forehead pressed against her knees as she blindly reaches out to press the flush. 

She breathes slowly, trying to settle her stomach, not even attempting to get up from the bathroom floor. There’s a soft knock on the bathroom door and she groans again, pressing her cheek to her knees as she looks at the door.

“Come in,” she croaks, grimacing at the rough sound of her voice, the bitter taste on her tongue. She forces a smile on her face as Aaron walks in, a can of ginger ale in hand that he immediately passes to her, “Thanks, honey. Where’s Lily?” 

“Sleeping,” he says, kneeling down next to her as he pulls the monitor out of his pocket, the grainy image of the toddler asleep in her crib staring up at them. Aaron ignores the way his knee cracks against the tiled floor and he rubs a hand up and down her back, “Are you feeling any better?”

She shakes her head, immediately regretting it as it makes her somehow feel worse, “No,” she complains, opening the can of ginger ale and taking a sip, “I want to have a conversation with whatever idiot called his morning sickness,” she presses her fingers to her lips, suppressing another gag, “I bet it was a man.” 

He clears his throat to cover a smile, “I’m not sure there’s a safe way for me to respond to that so I won’t.”

She smiles, “Probably smart,” she sips her drink again, “What time is it?” 

“Almost 7.30 pm,” he replies, still rubbing circles on her back and she groans again, her forehead back against her knees. 

“I have to go meet my mother soon,” she sighs, “Not sure how I’ll get there without throwing up all over the car.” 

It was a longstanding dinner reservation she had with her mother, something they’d planned before Emily even knew she was pregnant, and right now she couldn’t think of something she wanted to do less than sit in a restaurant surrounded by strong smells. 

“That’s one of the reasons I came in here,” he says, smiling softly when she turns to look at him, “Your mom just called, she said she can’t make it.” 

“Oh,” she says, an odd mix of relief and familiar concern mixing in her gut, “Did she say why?” 

“She said she’s not feeling great,” he replies, “Apparently she hasn’t been sleeping recently.”

She hums, her lips pressed together as she tries not to jump to conclusions, trying to assure herself that any slight change in her mother’s behaviour didn’t mean she was drinking again. 

“She did look tired when I last saw her,” she says, her stomach rolling as the nausea climbs up her throat again, “I’ll make sure she’s okay when I stop throwing up,” she groans as she shifts so she’s hovering over the toilet, grateful when he shifts with her, automatically holding her hair back, “Which at this rate might be when the baby comes.” 

He winces, “The ginger ale isn’t helping?” He asks, and she throws up in response and then glares at him as she sits back up, her expression screaming what do you think as she spits into the toilet and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, “Sorry,” he mumbles, reaching for the glass of water on the counter and handing it to her before he flushes the toilet, “We’ll figure out what helps this time around, sweetheart.” 

She sips the water, the coolness of it soothing against the rawness of her throat, “I hope so,” she blows out a slow breath, “I don’t remember it being this bad with Lil,” she smiles softly at him, “Thank you for looking after us.” 

He moves to sit beside her, his arm around her shoulder as he encourages her to sink into his side. He kisses her temple, “There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”

She smiles, and opens her mouth to respond before she catches the scent of his cologne, the usually comforting smell causing her stomach to roll again, and she turns just in time to throw up into the toilet basin. 

“Cologne?” Aaron asks, wincing as he rubs her back, and she nods, humming in confirmation as she breathes in and out as slowly as she can. He stands up and kisses the back of her head, “I’ll shower to get it off.” 

“No, Aaron. It’s okay,” she says, “I’ll get used to it.” 

He looks at her like she’s crazy, his smile incredulous as he pulls his shirt over his head, “And what? We won’t snuggle in the meantime? Absolutely not.” 

She presses her lips together to contain her smile and she fails, the grin that spreads across her face totally at odds with how she was feeling otherwise, “You’re right, what was I thinking,” she says, winking at him, “As soon as I feel like I can stand up without throwing up, I’ll join you.” 

He smiles as he strips off, his clothes barely making it into the hamper, and she makes no attempt to hide the fact she watches him as he steps into the shower. She sighs contentedly when the water switches on, her stomach finally settling a little, and she reaches for the baby monitor, running her finger over the screen, over the image of her sleeping daughter, and she starts to imagine what the new baby would look like. Whether it would be a boy or a girl, whether they’d look more like her and Lily or Aaron and Jack. If they’d have her nose and Aaron’s smile, or the other way around. 

Her stomach rolls, the brief reprieve she’d had already long gone, and she groans whilst pressing her hand into her lower stomach, “You’d better be the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, kiddo.” 

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #284

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

Experiment in progress. Refer to case logs.

My coffee’s roasty aroma kept me present in the moment. I sat at my desk in room 103, the same desk I always sat in, waiting for US History class to begin. I was here just yesterday, yet somehow the explicit carvings on the surface of it seemed novel - like I hadn’t been here in years.

All the others chatted amongst themselves as I sipped on my coffee. It almost made me feel warm inside, savoring the brew. It was from a spot around the corner, conveniently on my route to school, which sold a cup of black for only fifty cents and handed out as many creamers as I wanted. The real secret, one only a handful of us were privy to, was that there were also shakers of cocoa mix and cinnamon on the far side of the counter past the stirring straws. It was just about the only thing that made such a frosty morning tolerable.

Serenity has slipped on a puddle, I thought, out of nowhere. Why did I think that? I looked out the window to see her clutching her textbooks as she rushed to class, her wavy black hair bouncing with each step. I had a crush on her - obviously I was just imagining things that would make me upset. I took another sip of coffee.

The bell rang, and Mr. Holt moved to close the door - a policy made to disincentivize tardiness. Serenity didn’t quite make the cutoff.

“Wait, wait!” She yelled out, sticking her arm through the door.

“Sorry,” Mr. Holt sighed. “You’re too late. Go get a tardy slip.”

She reluctantly removed her arm from the door frame, pouting, and stormed off. Holt closed the door, and his gaze found me.

“Trevor, no drinks in class.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“Pour that in the bushes.” He leaned over to look at his computer screen, squinting. He trusted that I would follow instructions.

I wouldn’t.

This was my coffee, dammit; I paid for it and I was going to drink it, not toss it out the window on command. I hid the cup under my desk.

“Alrighty, class, today is the big moment, the one you’ve been waiting for. The Revolutionary War!” He covered his mouth and imitated a cheering crowd.

I think I fell asleep for a moment, or maybe blacked out. I couldn’t remember any of his presentation, but the slide up on the projector screen was the last one - with all of today’s homework written on it. And he was looking right at me as though he’d asked me a question.

“I… I’m sorry. Uh, could you repeat that?”

“Ha,” He chuckled. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to toss out your coffee, Trevor.”

The other students laughed too.

“I asked what you thought was the most important cause for the Revolutionary War.”

“Oh, of course. It was… uh… taxes?”

“Not a bad answer.” He held his arms out. “Remember, folks - ‘it’s the economy, stupid!’ Tariffs, in particular…”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Serenity knocked on the door, holding a tardy slip up to the window. Mr. Holt let her in.

“What took you so long?” He asked.

“I went to all this trouble to get a tardy slip, I figured I’d use it.”

He scoffed. “It’s your education, Ms. Roe. Waste it if you see fit.”

She smirked and walked up the aisle to get to her desk - next to mine. In the fraction of a second, I saw my leg spasm and knock my coffee over, just in time for Serenity to slip and fall on her back, sending her books flying.

I was in shock. “Are you okay?”

“No…” She moaned.

I could remember this. She wasn’t going to be able to play in this evening’s home volleyball game because she sprained her ankle. As a result, our school lost and we’d never make it to the semifinals. This hadn’t happened yet. I could remember what hadn’t happened yet?

I reached out my hand to help her to her feet. Mr. Holt tutted at the mess on the floor.

“This is why we don’t have drinks in class.”

“Diorama,” Celeste’s voice floated through my head. “Diorama.”

I put it first on the to-do list in my planner.

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

[buiralplot]

( TWENTY-THREE. GENDERFLUID. ANY. ) since you aren’t aware of them yet… that’s ( SICILY DE SCORRO SILVA ) wandering around in hollow creek! from what i know they’ve lived in hollow creek for ( EIGHT YEARS. ) i’m also aware of the fact that they work as a ( WANNABE MARINE BIOLOGIST / STUDENT. ) in town! but if you were to ask me, what i see when i think about them are: ( RIPPED, SEEMINGLY NEVER FULL BACKPACK FILLED WITH WHO KNOWS WHAT, WEARING THE SAME THREE OUTFITS LIKE A CARTOON CHARACTER, OBSESSIVELY TRACKING SHARKS ON A PHONE APP. ) if anything, i feel like they could be ( CURIOUS, EMPATHETIC & OFFPUTTING, SHY. ) it’s really weird, though… because they seem to be hiding something that no one else knows. but i sure do! and that is ( REDACED ). wild, huh? i know. they’re hoping no one will ever find out. and the very last thing that i’d say about them is that they’re mainly known to be ( THE DETERMINATOR. ) just keep a lookout! who knows if they’re putting on a facade!

FULL NAME            sicily alessandra de - scorro silva

BIRTHDAY              september 1st ( 23 ) . 

BIRTHPLACE          boca raton, florida.

GENDER                 genderfuid.

OCCUPATION     college student / wants to be a marine biologist sooo bad.

BUILD                     slim, althetic.

HAIR COLOR         brown .

EYE COLOR           brown.

HEIGHT                  5’6.

PARENTS               tbd ( wanted connection ) .

SIBLINGS        tbd.

PETS                    irwin ( cat ) .

mun is autistic & takes forever to respond back to dms. don’t be alarmed by this and after a while if i haven’t gotten back to you, feel free to nudge.

the  information  about  where  sicily  comes  from  match  the  memory  of  this  time  in  her  life:  nothing.  there's  a  few  scraps  of  paper,  a  torn  birth  certificate  that  omits  most  useful  parts  aside  from  her  name  in  the  basket,  underneath  the  wool  blanket  she  was  placed  ontop  of.  a  firehouse  baby,  the  one  you  hear  about  in  stories  and  have  those  lifetime  movies  about  overcoming  adversity.  this  is  not  one  of  those  stories.

from  a  young  age,  sicily  never  truly  felt  like  she  belonged  anywhere.  bouncing  from  foster  home  to  foster  home,  the  girl  was  always  a  bit  too  much  emotionally.  sudden  outbursts  then  socially  withdrawing,  unsettling  comments  to  peers  and  teachers  alike,  general  dislike  for  most  of  the  population  ..  she  never  made  many  connections  that  were  worthwhile,  at  least  to  her.  you  have  friends,  you  have  acquittances,  then  you  have  whatever  sicily  considers  bearable.  every  change  of  home  was  like  a  bad  omen  of  what's  to  come,  and  for  what  it's  worth,  she  never  did  it  on  purpose.  much.  they  just  didn't  understand  her.  and  after  a  certain  point,  she  stops  trying.

sicily  goes  through  life  like  a  lone  wolf.  thinking  she  doesn't  need  anybody,  but  instinctually,  knowing  she  does.  she  throws  herself  into  her  interest.  instead  of  spending  days  trying  to  get  to  know  whatever  foster  parent  she's  with  for  the  moment,  she  spends  it  somewhere  else.  free  things:  window  shopping  on  main  street  or  using  the  library  computers.  they'd  rather  fill  up  their  brain  with  knowledge  on  favorite  subjects  than  just  withering  away,  wishing  for  a  different  life.  it's  no  secret  that  their  foster  parents  give  up  on  them,  but  he  knows  that  at  the  end  of  the  day,  it's  just  another  thing  she  has  to  deal  with.  the  mantra  repeats  as  she  gets  into  the  social  workers  car,  silent  and  stoic. 

there's  a  change  of  pace.  they're  brought  to  a  group  home  —  the  kids  there  are  noisy,  bouncy,  all  in  your  face.  sicily  is  offput  by  this.  preferring  to  be  alone  and  protect  their  peace,  these  kids  weren't  having  it.  this  marks  the  longest  stay  sicily  has  ever  had  in  one  place,  because  they  had  a  plan:  travel  to  new  york  city  and  start  a  new  life,  together.  he  wasn't  convinced.  they're  kids.  what  could  they  possibly  do  there?  but  nevertheless,  finding  the  only  people  who  doesn't  make  her  wanna  rip  their  hair  out,  she  goes  along.  and  it  goes  about  as  well  as  you  can  expect.

they  hop  on  a  train  to  new  york  city.  almost  a  singular  day,  and  by  the  time  they  exit  the  station,  they're  doing  their  best  not  to  get  noticed  as  a  bunch  of  outsiders.  the  plan  was  to  get  a  hotel  and  go  from  there.  a  group  of  rag  tag  teenagers  shouldn't  be  too  suspicious,  but  within  the  week,  they're  caught.  sicily  hates  it.  right  when  she  thought  she  found  the  people  she  could  be  a  family  with,  they're  snatched  from  her.  while  a  dumb  decision,  she  knew  that  she  needed  somewhere  new.  somewhere  she  could  actually  try  to  be  someone  better.  those  fleeting  moments  of  having  people  (  even  if  you  asked  her,  it  was  ‘against  her  will’  )  was  better  than  she'd  imagined. 

she  was  then  moved  to  massachusetts.  there  were  no  more  ties  to  florida,  and  at  that  point,  they'd  exhausted  all  options  in  the  local  area.  it  was  pitiful,  the  beg  to  be  somewhere  else  to  her  social  worker  –  she's  sure  it  wasn't  protocol,  or  whatever,  but  they're  not  caring  as  much  as  they  land  in  the  bay  state.  bounced  around  a  few  more  times  until  she  landed  with  her  current  and  final  family.  it  was  rocky  waters,  but  they  got  to  a  somewhat  -  normal  household.  kind  of.

she's  not  easy  to  get  to  know,  nor  does  she  bring  their  walls  down  despite  desperately  wanting  to.  always  afraid  they're  going  to  leave,  be  taken  from  him.  it's  a  hard  price  to  pay,  but  she's  slowly  warming  up,  even  now.  it  took  eight  years  for  her  to  have  no  friends,  to  a  small  circle.  to  being  completely  closed  off  to  being  ..  semi  -  okay  with  being  known.  still  to  this  day,  they're  still  hyperfocused  on  things  that  serve  them  rather  than  personal  relationships.  schooling  was  and  still  is  their  strongest  suit  —  he's  currently  majoring  at  an  online  university  in  marine  biology,  their  first  and  only  love. 

ever  the  nomad,  despite  being  on  hiatus  from  this,  sicily  has  been  looking  for  work,  internships,  to  further  her  career  ----  though  it's  slim  pickings,  he's  had  a  few  different  call  backs.  it's  hard  to  decide  what's  right  when  they've  grown  ..  semi  -  comfortable,  if  that's  the  correct  terms  for  this.  in  a  shock  to  her,  it's  easier  for  them  to  stay  than  it  would  be  to  go.  this  realization  makes  them  sick  to  their  absolute  stomach,  and  she's  unsure  of  how  to  approach  it  without  wanting  to  faint.  being  comfortable  is  not  something  she's  willing  to  give  up,  nor  is  it  something  she  wants  to  think  too  hard  about.  so  here  they  sit,  pondering  and  thinking  about  the  what  ifs  and  what  should've  beens  when  their  mind  runs  a  little  too  wild.

she is cordial and tends to be somewhat mutual in most interactions, is not friendly. quiet, aloof and doesn’t like 90% of people. it’s not you, it’s her. after spending a majority of her life ignoring societal norms and doing her own thing, she doesn’t plan on starting to follow them now. she’s abrupt, brash and all consuming. she tries to spare feelings if she likes you, but she’s overtly blunt in a way that’s not malicious .. but definitely can come across that way, and has lost a lot of friendships.

is autistic! love that for my baby. he knows that this isn’t a determent, and will share it proudly with anyone who listens. hyper fixates, a lot, and is very particular in how they shape their world. due to sensitivities, he often carries headphones and fidget toys ( is particular in a needough ice cube ) . safe foods or bust. tends to also think in somewhat black and white, but tries his best to see all perspectives. it just takes a while to get there.

throws themselves into activities and interests, and there's no stopping them from learning every last detail they can. this can range from new york city subway maps to their lifelong fixation, marine biology ( particularly sharks. they obsess over sharks. ) . is known to go to the library for hours upon hours, or have their face shoved into their tablet until the break of dawn on wikipedia. documentaries on rental, the whole thing. mentions them unprompted, and without care of the other party. 

never wears anything fancy. wears the same five outfits in variations and rotations. never puts her hair up, always down. doesn't entertain fashion over being comfortable. 

never had social media until about 2 years ago, and only owned a flip phone up until that point. he doesn't quite understand lingo and online terminology, and limits her social media useage. she doesn't like the impending doomscrolling and jealousy. the only one he tends to favor is tiktok, and even then, she limits herself to 10 videos at a time. usually about sharks.  do NOT try to contact them. they will contact you. 

her favorite color is blue, if you couldn't guess. wearing one variation of blue at all times. wearings the same adidas superstars they'd gotten about six years ago, the entire bottom is wore out and there's holes on the inside of the heel, but they don't want to let them go. they are also blue. 

doesn't care about the norms of society or gender norms. answers to any and all pronouns. doesn't care to conform to anything, and does anything his way. truth be told, it's kind of freeing, in a way, and doesn't really care about what anyone else thinks …

that is, unless you're someone they like. she knows that the opinion of those she likes and cares about is important, and this is something they carry heavy in their heart – even the slightest turn of events that could make them upset can ruin their whole month until it's resolved, and even then they're still worried someone is mad at them. if they like you, they'll ride and die for you. those in his inner circle have them for life, unless there's some kind of betrayal. it's hard to know their limits of loyalty considering they haven't had a ton of relationships, so they're trying to feel it out. 

they can hold a grudge for as long as they need to. never backs down from a fight in the petty game, and knows that they can play it better. will never be an outright asshole unless the situation ( or, what they've clocked from the situation ) calls for it — then you're dead fuckin' meat, bub. 

has many enemies. including my own muse, sorcha. 

has never been kissed or ever in a real relationship, as expected. as little to no experience nor interest in that kind of thing. whoever will be the first must be pretty damn special, because to get her to pay attention to you and not the shark exhibit at the boston aquarium will be hard. no interest in flings or hookups. just vibes.

holds in their emotions and doesn't tend to think before having an outburst. it's hard for him to realize when things are going to be too much as their is a ton of disconnect between interpersonal connection, so recognizing emotions before they spill over is hard — but there's tics to watch out for ( picking at her scalp, biting their nails, being agitated / irritable, extra fidgeting ) . he's trying her best, but it's a work in progress. 

wanted connections ..

parents! on the main. they're somewhat close, or, as close as they can be. sicily appreciates them and lets them know in her own weird way (usually by crafting something or buying them things)

friends. this group is relatively small, and in my mind, they probably aren't in a mutual group – probably only know each other in passing or the like because of sicily. they attract various people, from all places and things. these are the people sicily has her loyalty lock set on, and can't find the key ---- y'all are stuck with him. 

positive acquittances. these are people who know sicily and he knows them, but they're not friend level. sicily doesn't actively hate them or have malicious feelings for them, just .. there. they have the ability to level up or down, depending on future interactions.

negative acquittances. these are the people sicily can and will be a major asshole to because of past experiences. they have the ability to change her mind, but they're not very quick to let that happen. remember: grudge holder master. 

family friends. these people know sici's family (perhaps parents or adoptive siblings?) 

ex classmates. coming to hollowcreek in late teenhood, sicily attended the local high school until graduation

past foster siblings, particularly the group she ran away with. i think not being in contact then coming back into contact would be really fun to explore. i am also open to past foster siblings in hollowcreek and florida as a child as well!

someone she tutors unwillingly. aka she's like. do u want me to do this for you? (asks silently) and they're liek no? teach me this instead??? and he hates it.

older sibling / parental figures who take them under their wing.

perhaps a crush he doesn't know is a crush yet. she just like to silently hang out with them.

a bad influence, though she's very resistant towards it so it'll be really hard to achieve lmao. 

[hintsofhoney]

I’ll Just Get Off By Myself

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel

Summary: Dean snaps at his Dom, Cas, and gets punished in a... creative way.

Square(s) Filled: "I guess I'll just get off all by myself" for @anyfandomkinkbingo, spanking for @spnkinkbingo

Tags: 18+, Dom!Castiel, Sub!Dean, spanking, masturbation, punishment, aftercare, praise kink, anal play, fluff, smut

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: When I first told @treat-winchesterswith-kindness this idea, she was like, “you’re sadistic”. But then she read it and I’ve changed her mind. I have no idea where I got it from, I think I read it in a fic back in like, 2012 (???) and it just came to my mind when I was writing this fic. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. Don’t judge me. Beta’d by my loves @treat-winchesterswith-kindness and @deangirl93 🤍 GIF is mine.

You can also read me on Ao3!

DESTIEL MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“I guess I’ll just get off all by myself, then,” Dean shrugged, crossing his arms and tilting his head in an act of defiance, as he watched Cas stop in his tracks and turn around slowly.

“What did you just say?” His voice was deeper than usual, a mix of disbelief and anger seeping into his words.

“I said,” Dean took a step towards him, standing his ground, “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.” 

Cas looked like he didn’t quite know how to respond to that. Maybe it was his fault for throwing himself into his work so much so that Dean had felt neglected. They weren’t anything exclusive – not technically – but neither of them were seeing anyone else. It wasn’t just because of the great sex they were having with eachother, either. They didn’t want to see anyone else. Not that they’d ever admit that to one another. 

Cas sighed, mimicking Dean’s stance only a few feet across from him, his arms folding over his chest causing his biceps to bulge underneath his suit jacket which didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. “Will you, boy ?” Cas finally said in response to Dean’s claim, his eyes squinting as his head tilted to the side. He took another step closer. “Because you remember what happens when we break rules, right?” 

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. Whether it was on purpose or not, it pissed Cas off just the same. “Wasn’t aware there were still any rules to follow.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve been so preoccupied with your work that you haven’t so much as glanced in my direction. We haven’t fucked in a week. It’s been even longer since we’ve done a proper scene. What the hell do you expect me to do, Cas? Wait ?”

“Yes, actually,” Cas retorted. “I am sorry that I have been… busy lately. This is just a huge case, but it will be over soon, I promise.”

“Yeah? When is ‘soon’?”

Cas took a deep breath. If Dean was trying to push every last button he had, it was working. “Next Thursday, hopefully. But if you can’t wait until then, go ahead.”

Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “Go ahead?”

“Go ahead,” Cas repeated. “That is what you want, isn’t it? A release? I can’t guarantee that it’ll be as pleasurable if you do it by yourself but I can’t stop you, if that’s what you want to do.”

“So you’re givin’ me permission?”

“I’m giving you a choice, like I always do. You can wait and we can have a good time, or you can get off right now and face the consequences.” 

Dean ran his hand down his face in frustration as he bounced anxiously on his toes, trying to weigh the pros and cons of each choice. Next Thursday was a whole eight days away. No way in hell could he wait that long. If he got off now, it’d all but force Cas to do something about it, right? Maybe not something he’d like, but it’d be something . But then that wouldn’t be being a very good boy, and Dean does like how Cas rewards him when he’s been good. But, fuck that. He’d get a reward anyway after whatever punishment he’d have to suffer through.

“God, fuck you, man,” Dean finally said after some thought.

Cas raised his eyebrows. “I assume this means you’re not going to wait?”

“No. Fuck you and your waiting. My balls are gonna fall off.” 

“You’re sure?” Cas asked, the same way he always does – his way of giving Dean one last out to make the right choice. 

Dean responded by trying to walk past him to the bedroom, but Cas caught him by his arm in a firm grip. 

“What?” Dean hissed. 

“I’m allowing you to make your choice, but you’re going to make it right here.”

Dean gulped. “Cas –”

“Go get a towel and the lube and come right back,” he ordered, his blue eyes a shade darker than normal.

Dean debated locking himself in the bathroom as he made his way towards it, but figured that whatever punishment he was going to receive for choosing this and mouthing off was already going to be bad enough. 

He was back in the living room in no time, a towel and bottle of lube in hand, staring at Cas as he waited for further instructions. Cas had sat down on the couch, his case papers spread out on the coffee table, the end of a pen in between his teeth as he glanced over them. He knew Dean was there, but he was being demanding enough tonight; he could wait a few more seconds.

A minute passed before Cas finally acknowledged the other man in the room. “Go ahead,” Cas said, in a tone that translated to, ‘what are you waiting for?’. 

Dean tried not to let the blush creep up on his cheeks as he undressed himself fully and kneeled down on the towel. It’s not like he’d never jacked off in front of Cas before, so he wasn’t sure why he was beginning to feel shy about it now. 

“Are you regretting your choice?” Cas asked, noticing Dean’s hesitation.

“No,” he snapped, quickly. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and tugged a few times, getting him hard in seconds thanks to a week of built-up frustration. He tried his best to ignore the pair of eyes he could feel watching his every move as he poured some lube in his palm and grabbed his cock again. Fuck, it felt good. He’d been good all week. He’d listened to Cas’s rules, he hadn’t touched himself – he deserved this. He closed his eyes and pictured Cas’s mouth where his hand was, and that was enough to make him fully forget that Cas was there watching him for the next few minutes.

Dean came with the image of Cas’s blue eyes looking up at him while he took every last drop of what Dean had to offer down his throat. It was a beautiful image, but then Dean came back to reality as he opened his eyes and looked over at his Dom, who was now leaning back on the couch with his ankle on his knee and his hands resting on his shin. He looked like a proper lawyer in that stance – still in his suit from his work day and a studying expression on his face. It would have made Dean hard in seconds had he just not come all over the towel beneath him.

After a moment or two of silent staring, Cas put both of his feet on the floor and scooted forward a little on the couch, his elbows coming to rest on his thighs as he made his hands into fists and placed his chin on them. “Feel better?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, but with the tone he used he might as well have said ‘duh, that’s a dumb fucking question’. 

Cas sighed deeply, before sitting up straight. “Wipe yourself off and come here,” he commanded, the softness gone from his voice. Dean rolled his eyes – why was he being such a brat tonight? – and obeyed Cas’s request, coming to stand in front of the man not even a minute later. Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and maneuvered him into his lap, his arms resting around Dean’s waist as he looked up into his sub’s eyes. “Would you like to tell me what’s gotten into you, or are you going to keep being a brat?” 

Dean averted his eyes, choosing to stare at the fidgeting hands in his lap instead. He was feeling the shame creep up inside him, beginning a battle with his stubbornness as he decided whether or not he should at least try to be a good sub for the rest of the scene. 

“Dean?” Cas pressed gently, sensing his hesitancy. 

Dean took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Was just feeling ignored, I guess.” 

“Dean, look at me,” Cas ordered, the dominance coming back to his voice. He placed his forefinger and thumb underneath Dean’s chin, not giving him much of a choice. Dean’s green eyes met his, and Cas could read the emotion in them. “I am sorry that I’ve been so busy, I should have been more transparent with you about how busy this month was going to be. That’s my fault. But you must know it’s never my intention to ignore or neglect you, yes?” 

Dean nodded. “Yes, Castiel.”

“And similarly, you know that if you’re frustrated with me, it is not acceptable to communicate that through blatant disrespect, correct?” 

“Yes, Castiel,” Dean replied again, barely audible.

“When you want something from me, what’s the one thing I ask of you?”

Dean gulped. “To ask for what I want.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because communication is important inside and outside the bedroom,” Dean recited, because it’s been ingrained in his head ever since he and Cas had started to see one another. 

“Precisely. I’ve lost count of how many rules you’ve broken in the last hour, Dean, but I can say that you’ve earned yourself quite the punishment, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, Castiel.”

Cas finally released the gentle hold he had on Dean’s chin before helping him stand in front of him again. He held the sub’s hands in his own as he gave him his next instructions. “Go kneel in the bedroom. I’ll be there shortly.”

Once he had heard the bedroom door shut, Cas got up from the couch, running a hand through his hair and letting out a deep breath. If he was being honest with himself, he was at a loss with what to do about Dean. He had never been so blatantly disobedient before, and while Cas did feel bad that he hadn’t done a good job at making sure Dean was feeling cared for, he knew it was no excuse for him to act that way. 

Remembering an… unconventional punishment that he had read on a Dom forum page a few months ago, he walked over to the utility closet and pulled down a bucket of hardware from the top shelf. Digging through the packages of nails and random screw drivers, Cas finally found what he was looking for – an unopened package of sandpaper. Placing it in his inner jacket pocket, he began making his way to the bedroom.

Dean was kneeling at the foot of the bed, his hands crossed behind his back and his head bowed, just how Cas had taught him. He flinched as he heard the door shut after Cas had entered the room, the anticipation of what was to come settling uncomfortably in his abdomen. He had never been such a brat before, and Cas was known to deal out punishments over the smallest infractions. 

“Stand up and bend over the bed,” Cas ordered, and Dean quickly obeyed, keeping his hands crossed at the small of his back without having to be asked. He listened as Cas made his way around the room, opening and closing some drawers, before he came to stand behind him. He inhaled sharply when Cas’s hand came to rub at his bare ass, because he knew the gentleness of his touch would not last for long. 

“I’m going to try a new punishment tonight,” Cas stated. “What are your safewords?”

“Green, I’m good, yellow, take it down a notch, red or Impala — full stop,” Dean recited without having to think about it — it was another thing that Cas had made him memorize at the start of their relationship. Dean appreciated the color system; his previous Doms hadn’t been kind enough to give him one, opting for one specific safeword instead. But he felt better when he had more than one to choose from.

“Good boy,” Cas praised, and Dean’s dick perked up at the words. It looks like he had another round in him after all — but he doubted he’d be coming again tonight. Cas had put him in chastity for weeks for less. 

“Now, you will stay still and quiet for me. I want you to think about better ways you could have expressed your frustrations with me while I get you prepped for your spanking. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Castiel,” Dean practically squeaked. He knew what spanking “prep” included — a plug in his ass and a few hits with Cas’s hand before he would move on to whatever instrument he intended on using for the rest of it. But that wasn’t anything new . Knots formed in Dean’s stomach as he thought about what Cas could have possibly added to tonight.

Dean heard the familiar click of the lube cap, before Cas tapped Dean’s inner ankles with his foot, signaling for him to spread his legs further apart. Dean obeyed, and before he knew it he was feeling the cold liquid on his hole as Cas spread it around generously. Slowly but surely, he was stretched open with the help of Cas’s thick digits, and within minutes he was plugged up and aching for more. 

Cas took the sandpaper out of his jacket pocket, tearing open the plastic packaging and taking out a sheet. It was 80 grit — not too rough but not too smooth — and he hoped that it would get the job done. He placed his hand in one of Dean’s at the small of his back, allowing his sub something to hold on to before he began. 

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he felt a coarse material on his ass, and not the anticipated usual smack. Cas was definitely applying some pressure as he rubbed it in circles on Dean’s left cheek first, and after about 40 seconds, Dean started to feel the burn. He assumed it was sandpaper, which was honestly genius on Cas’s part, he had to admit. It didn’t hurt too bad in the moment, but if he was getting spanked after this — yeah, this was some punishment, alright. 

After Cas was satisfied with the redness of the first cheek, he moved on to the other, and Dean was really starting to feel the lasting effect. He stayed still as Cas finished up, doing a good job at keeping the whines threatening to escape his throat at bay.

Cas stepped back to admire his boy. Bent over for him, plugged up, bright pink cheeks… and he hadn’t even started spanking him yet. “What’s your color, sweet boy?”

Dean squirmed with pride at the pet name. Cas was pleased with how he was taking the punishment, and if it meant that he got to keep hearing the praise from his Dom’s lips, he’d sit there and let his ass take all the abuse Cas had to offer. “Green, Castiel.” 

“You’ve done so well for me, Dean. Did you think about better ways you could have communicated?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Good.” Dean heard a drawer opening, and then Cas spoke again. “I’m going to strike you thirty times with the paddle.” An involuntary whine of protest left Dean’s throat, and Cas raised his eyebrow. “Unless you want me to use the cane?”

“No! No, Castiel, I’m sorry,” Dean quickly replied, braving himself for the pain that was to come.

“I’ll add ten more on with my hand for the whining.”

Dean nodded into the sheets, scared to make any more noises because he didn’t want to fuck up again.

“Now, you’re going to tell me better ways you could have communicated with me after each hit. And when you’re done with that, I want you to count the remaining strikes. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Castiel.”

The first strike wasn’t as hard as Cas usually started with, but fuck, if it wasn’t painful. Dean silently cursed Cas for the sandpaper idea, or whoever gave him the idea of it wasn’t originally his, before remembering he had lines to say here. One , he counted in his head, as to not lose track for when he would have to pick up the counting later.

“I — um, I could have just told you how I had been feeling.”

Another strike. Dean winced. Two .

“I could h-have written you a note or something because I’m better at communicating when I write things d-down.”

The third hit felt harder than the last two. He could already feel the tears welling up in his eyes, partly from the pain, but also because listing out how easy the solutions to his problems could have been instead of disrespecting his Dom was really forcing the shame to sink in. Three.

“I guess I c-could have texted it to you, too.”

Another. Dean held back a yelp as it hit the plug at an angle that pushed it further inside him. Four.

“I could have p-politely asked for attention.”

Cas gave him an approving “mhm” before striking him once more. Five .

“I could have asked for a scene.”

Dean couldn’t think of any more after that one. Another crack filled the air. Dean’s cock twitched when the plug got hit again. 

“Six,” Dean counted, trying not to moan. Between the shame, pain, and pleasure, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. 

“Good boy, you didn’t lose count,” Cas praised, forcing Dean’s heart to swell with pride before the seventh hit came down on him.

“S-seven,” he stuttered, because he knew eight was going to be the one to draw the first tear. Hearing Castiel praise him made him feel good, but being punished made him feel ashamed for the way he had treated his Dom. He deserved this, and yeah, he was going to cry about it because he needed to. All would be well again once Cas started on aftercare, but until then, Dean needed to feel every last drop and twist of the emotional rollercoaster of shame and praise that punishments so often put him on. 

He choked out a raspy “twenty” through tears, and Cas held his hand at the small of his back for the last ten as he struck in rapid succession. With each hit he could feel the plug hit his prostate, and sobs and sniffles filled the air as he willed himself not to come, because he knew he didn’t deserve to. Cas placed the paddle on the comforter before soothingly running his hand over the globes of Dean’s now very red and slightly bruised ass. 

“Shhh, you’re doing so well. What’s your color, sweetheart?” Cas’s voice is nothing but gentleness.

“G-green, Castiel,” Dean sobs, because he could handle ten more. He needs to, in fact, because he has to get through this punishment so he can forgive himself.

“Just ten more, alright? You’re being such a good boy, Dean. You’re doing amazing. I’d like you to count these too, please.”

Dean obeyed, his ass pretty much numb apart from the last six swats, to which Cas delivered right to his “sit spot” on his upper thighs. 

He was still crying as Cas laid down beside him, Cas’s hand still holding onto Dean’s at the base of his back. Cas used his other hand to gently stroke Dean’s hair, shushing and praising him softly as he collected himself. 

“You did so well for me, my love. So, so good.” Cas wiped a tear from Dean’s cheek as their eyes met. “You are beautiful, Dean. My beautiful boy.”

Dean smiled dopily through hooded eyelids as he relaxed, his cock still twitching with every line of praise Cas fed him. 

“I’m going to run you a bath,” Cas said sweetly. “Would you like me to take you with me?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah…”

Cas slowly got up and gently took the plug out of Dean before helping him stand on shaky legs, picking him up bridal-style, and carrying him to the bathroom. He ran a towel under cool water before placing it on the toilet seat, inviting Dean to sit before he ran the bath water. As it was getting to the right temperature, Cas filled a cup with water from the tap and handed it to Dean, before looking in the medicine cabinet for the chocolate he knew he kept in there for moments like these. Sometimes Dean didn’t want him to leave his side when he was in a drop, so it made it easier to have aftercare essentials stashed away in every room of the house. 

Cas broke off a piece of the chocolate bar and handed it to Dean, who ate it slowly between sips of water. The bath was ready by the time he was finished with both.

“Cas?” Dean asked as he looked up at his Dom who was holding out his hand to him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Cas asked, crouching down in front of him and reaching out to cup his cheek. 

Dean grabbed at his wrist, holding Cas’s hand in place as he leaned into it. “Will you get in with me?” he asked sheepishly, and Cas beamed with pride because the lesson on communication was already working.

“Of course, sweet boy. Yeah, I’ll get in with you. But I’m going to help you in first, alright?”

Dean nodded, taking Cas’s outstretched hand in his own and letting him help him into the tub. The lukewarm water felt good on his abused ass. He watched as Cas got undressed and neatly folded his clothes on the counter, before slotting himself in behind Dean, pulling his back to his chest. 

“I’m so proud of you for asking for what you wanted,” Cas praised in his ear as he placed a soft kiss on his neck. Dean let out a content sigh as Cas held him close.

“Proud enough to let me get off again?” he asked sleepily, only half-joking. 

Cas chuckled before — to Dean’s surprise — wrapping his hand around Dean’s shaft under the water. “Perhaps. But you’ll have to let me tease you a bit first.” 

Dean inhaled a shaky breath. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Y-yeah — yes, Castiel. Anything you want.”

[tteokdoroki]

— “SHARING IS CARING + DABI/TOUYA TODOROKI.” ft. shoto todoroki.

author’s note(s): i havent written in days bc ive been working on other things but here’s this bc i am a whore. btw reader and shoto are third years/18 in this so hold onto your wigs lol.

warning(s): mdni, 18+. smut, dark content, dub-con, manipulation, cheating, choking, breath play, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyerism kinda, corruption!kink, virginity loss, degradation. characters aged up to 18. fem!reader.

touya todoroki has always been better than his brothers, at everything. praised from a young age for his powerful abilities, handsome face and charming smile— touya is the todoroki family’s prized gem. the favourite, prodigy son. the one who always gets what he wants. of course, until precious shoto todoroki arrives.

shoto, the undeniably gorgeous boy with dual chrome eyes and hair to match— an aloofness about him that draws everyone in, especially at school where he excels and wears himself at the top of his class in U.A academy. now; he’s everyone’s favourite boy, endeavour’s, his mother’s and yours. you, the sweet and innocent little girl who lives about two blocks away. the whole neighbourhood knows who you are, the apples of your cheeks stretched into a darling smile, that’s sometimes etched with an air of shyness when someone compliments you on how pretty you are.

you have doe eyes that watch shoto with such awe because you’re so impressed by what he can do, because you love how kindly he treats you and how he protects you from hungry stares belonging to others. touya finds your innocence annoying; the first time his younger brother brings you for dinner. the way you stutter over your words when speaking with rei or enji and how hide behind shoto whenever the eldest enters the room.

but you’re nice to look at, he can see why his pest of a younger sibling keeps you around. does shoto realise how far your skirt rides up over your ass whenever you bend over? how your thighs resembling pillows spill over the tops of your school socks? and how your lips are always so bitten and cherry red— everything about you is so fuckable.

and like i said, touya todoroki always gets what he wants.

“i’m better than him, aren’t i sweetness? you like the way this cock fucks you. c’mon, tell me how good i make you feel.”

touya doesn’t really need an answer, especially when it’s unlikely that he’ll get one from you. pretty little girl, sweet ass up in the air and raw from the onslaught of spanks he’d given you earlier. your cunt shines with a slickness he so proudly knows that he’s caused and your hole puckers around nothing— so eager to be filled by the eldest todoroki’s cock. “t-touya, need you. p-please...” you babble, clawing at his black linen sheets, already stained with nectar from your leaky cunny.

oh you’re so good, so nice for him when you’re fucked dumb and on the edge of frustration— you say just what he wants to hear, so eager to please that you’d beg him for days if it meant you’d get your pussy abused and used. “that’s right little girl, you need me, right? ‘cause lil sho can’t take you the way i do. you need me to show you what it’s like to feel good.”

touya lives for the way your hips jump back from just his dirty words alone, clit pushing deliciously against the tip of his length— you’re so cute when you want it. when you wanna be fucked by an older, more experienced dick. you know that touya has what shoto doesn’t. you know you can always rely on him to make you cum when shoto can’t.

any decent older brother would feel bad for taking advantage of his sibling’s girl, but touya has a point to prove. he’ll always be the better todoroki, he knows that, especially when his burning cock sinks into your tight hole— the one that welcomes him into your velvet walls, so perfectly carved into the shape of him.

a drawn out and gargled whine bubbles in the back of your throat, the stretch making your eyes roll so far back into your head touya would have thought you’d passed out, it wouldn’t have been the first time either.

oh no, he remembers the way he’d made your fleshy thighs quiver and your meek voice turn to screams when he’d taken you in the bathroom across the hall from shoto’s bedroom the first time you stayed the night. or the time that he’d cornered you in the kitchen while you made a study snack for you and your boyfriend, carelessly flipping your skirt up and creaming in your virgin cunt until all you could say were mindlessly repeats of his name. touya. his name always sounded so pretty against jumbled words that slid across your tongue.

that one time in the kitchen, touya had sent you back to shoto’s room with your pink lace panties full of his pungent seed and had listened to shoto fuck it deeper inside of you later that night when you let the younger take you for the first time. touya wonders if his little brother truly believes he was lucky enough to take your virginity or if he knows how much of a whore you are for the eldest, white haired sibling. possession flares in his chest at the very thought, making him plunge himself into the deepest parts of you while you quiver like a little bitch below him.

his piercings drag up and down your gummy walls, friction causing you to drool amongst the pillows that you drown in. touya’s large hand pushes down on the small of your back, shaping your body into an uncomfortable arch— you whimper but don’t complain. taking his dick like you should, accepting him like you should. his balls, oh so heavy with cum, slap against your cheeks while your juices paint his tummy from how much you leak and the lewd sounds fill the air so loud, there’s no doubt poor little shoto todoroki can hear it through the walls.

“sweetness, you’re so bad— sneaking off to let your boyfriend’s big brother make you scream. you’re just a slut for the todoroki dick...aren’t ya? you’d probably let nat in on it too...” touya slurs, drooling at the way your backside bounces with every slam of his hips into you.

“n-no-! no... ‘m not a slut...not a—!” you squeal pathetically, barely able to finish your sentence as touya shoves your face into the sheets harshly— deep chuckle reverberating in his chest as he presses it to your sweaty back.

you still yourself, taking all what he gives to you even if it means you can barely breathe. the eldest todoroki lifts a hand to knock on the thin walls separating him from his little brother; words coming out as breathless as he thrusts into you deeper, harder, faster— abusing your barely prepped hole. “ya’hear that sho, yur lil angel’s not as innocent as you think; she’d let all of us fuck her if we asked nicely...” the way he speaks about you is mean; it could make you cry but all you do in response is clamp down on the man above you and suck him in deeper, selfishly just like he’d taught you. he smirks with pride at how much your cunt lives for him, at how his little brother is getting the show of his life time— probably jerking off to the sounds of his girl getting railed but someone who isn’t him.

touya’s hips stutter and he cums inside you with a shout, thick ropes of his hot seed spraying against your walls and seeping between your puffy folds. ringed fingers find your clit, drawing circles into them until you tip over the edge and tumble into your own release, clamping down so hard that you draw blanks from your boyfriend’s older brother. the way you twitch after touya’s emptied himself inside you, letting him press down on the sweet bulge at your tummy so his cum leaks out— almost makes him want to brush the hair away from your face and kiss you, but he remains objective— treating you as proof that he will always be the superior sibling.

when he’s pulled out of you and helped you to shaky legs to leave— he watched the regret wash over your innocent features like it always does when he’s made a woman out of you. “tell my little brother i said; sharing is caring, sweetness.” touya asks of you oh-so-kindly, revelling in the way your bottom trembles and a fresh set of tears well in your bambi eyes.

what? he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to make you cry, but that would defeat the purpose if he was telling the truth.

[seriouslysnape]

Letting Down Easy

Harry Potter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Overstimulation, Breast play.

Word Count: 1,469

“I’m not upset with you, lovely.”

Harry sniffed as the last of his tears leaked from his bleary eyes. 7 orgasms. You had made him cum 7 times and in multiple ways over the course of the last few hours. The poor boy was exhausted. He was completely tuckered out with absolutely nothing left to give. Not to mention that he had slipped far into a subspace somewhere between the fourth and fifth orgasm. He was totally gone and not in his normal mindset.

You couldn’t even depend on him to pick up your sweater off of the floor because he was so tired. His muscles were contracting and releasing as fast as they could from all the adrenaline and overstimulation. His words slurred together and sometimes stringed together a sentence of words that didn’t belong to each other. That’s when you knew he had enough. You never pushed him to the point where he physically couldn’t do it anymore. There was a difference between him thinking he couldn’t give you one more, and then him actually not being able to. You knew to call it quits the second he couldn’t do it.

He was a whimpering mess, and he just couldn’t seem to calm down. You hushed him once you had fallen from your own final climax, running your hands along his chest and core to bring him back down to Earth. Your legs were firmly planted on either side of his hips, not allowing himself to go anywhere. His chest inflated as much as it could with each inhale as he tried to regain his breath.

“Harry…” You sang to him, your voice much lighter and sweeter than it had been previously, “Look at me, baby.”

Harry’s head turned from its lolled side position, his piercing eyes gazing up at you. You could see it in his face that he wasn’t having many thoughts other than that he wanted more, even though you knew he was way too far off for any more.

“Was...was I good, Mommy?” He croaked, his voice small and weak.

You rustled his hair, scratching at his scalp lovingly.

“It’s not Mommy anymore, Harry. It’s [Y/N],” You reminded him, “You were so good. Such a good boy.”

A temporary look of relief washed over his face, his head falling back onto the pillow so far that his eyes were now trained on the headboard.

“A good boy…” He repeated as if it were the nicest thing you had ever told him.

“Yes, Harry. You’re my good boy,” You told him, “You’re all soft now, huh?”

You had said that second part as an attempt to show him that he had indeed done what he was supposed to do. He had done everything you had instructed him to do perfectly and without any flaws. However, his head shot up to peer down at his cock laying relaxed between his legs, and his expression changed to pure panic, letting you know that you shouldn’t have said that.

“S-Soft?!” He sputtered, positively mortified that his erection was gone.

“Well, yeah, love. You got off more than-”

“I’m sorry, Mommy! I’m sorry that I’m not hard and I can’t make you cum anymore!” He squealed, a new set of tears returning to his eyes for a totally different purpose.

You stared down at him with widened, concerned eyes. You had never seen him act quite like this. You had pushed him into subspaces before, but never so much to where he was beside himself with emotions.

“Harry,” You breathed in a surprised tone, “I’m not upset with you, lovely.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be bad. I’m not a good boy, I wanna be your good boy, Mommy!” He sobbed, blubbering over his words.

He was a wreck at this point. He was wailing and crying so hard that he was hiccuping between breaths. His glasses fogged up from the condensation of his tears, blocking his vision completely. You reached to pluck them from his face, wiping them off with the edge of the sheet on his bed as you spoke as lightly as possible.

“Listen to me, angel,” You ordered, putting his glasses on his face again once the tears stopped forming, “You are a good boy. You’re always my good boy. You did such a good job, and I’m proud of you. But you gotta come back for me, Harry.”

He didn’t like that answer. He didn’t like that at all.

“But I’m right here! I wanna make you feel good and I wanna make Mommy happy!” He shrieked, still completely overwhelmed with feelings.

You were beginning to really worry now. You feared you had pushed him too hard and now you weren’t sure how to let him back down easy. Your sweet talking and gentle caresses weren’t working. 

“It’s [Y/N], Harry. Not Mommy anymore,” You reminded him again, “You make me very, very happy.”

“But I can’t get hard anymore! I can’t make Mommy feel good.” He coughed, beginning to literally choke on his cries.

“Harry, how many times did you cum?” You asked, trying a different tactic.

He sniffed again.

“What?” He queried meekly.

“How many times did you cum for me?” You asked again.

His eyes shone with tears and ecstasy as he refused to look away from you.

“Uhm...seven?” He said more as a question, because honestly he had lost track.

“That’s right. Seven,” You nodded with a reassuring grin, “You did such a good job for me. You were my good boy like you are every time.”

The tear tracks on his cheeks were breaking your heart. His entire behavior was killing you. You felt terrible for making him this upset. 

“Every time...your good boy…” He echoed his tears stopping once again.

You nodded once more, hoping that maybe you had finally begun to pull him out of his subspace.

“Yes, Harry. My good boy.” You assured him.

His cries mellowed out back into a few dull whimpers. Thankfully, he seemed to be breathing easier and the shaking of his muscles had dwindled into occasional spasms. His gaze trailed from your face to your free breasts, his eyes staring hungrily at them. Harry always had a bit of a soft spot for your tits. He loved watching them bounce when you rode him or when he thrusted into you. He adored them. Your lips upturned into more of a smirk when you caught his glance.

“You want to suck my tits, baby? Would that make you feel better?” You questioned him, already knowing the answer.

His eyes brightened when he looked at your eyes again.

“Can I? Please?” He pleaded, his lips already parting with desire.

You unstraddled him in response, laying down on the mattress and against the pillows with a relaxed sigh. You coaxed him to lay between your legs so his head was in the right position.

“Go ahead, sweet boy. I know you like this.” You granted him.

He gave your breasts another look over before he wrapped his mouth around your right nipple. You didn’t dare let out the moan that threatened to escape, because you were afraid it’d send him back into hysterics if he heard you. It undoubtedly sent rushes of arousal through you, but you could deal with it on your own later...or just ignore it until next time. A content hum bubbled out of Harry’s chest as his tongue swirled around your bud, creating suction to send the most wonderful waves through you and to put himself at ease.

Harry didn’t really suck your tits often. If he did it was in the heat of the moment or because he was super stressed out. It was never in a moment like this. He had his head resting between your breasts as he nursed your nipple. His ear picked up every thump of your heart, which shockingly helped bring him out of the sex ridden daze he was in.

He turned his head at one point to pay your other breast some love, sucking and kissing it just as he had the other one. Your hand was on his head, rubbing his hair and dragging your nails carefully through it. The silence was comforting other than the occasional sucking sound being heard from his mouth, and it gave both of you time to recover.

After maybe ten minutes or so, Harry lifted his head and smiled sleepily. He wasn’t completely out of his haze yet, but he was much better than before. He’d be okay soon enough. A good night of tender care and an even better night of sleep was sure to bring him back fully.

“Feeling okay, Harry?” You asked him.

He nodded his head lazily, leaving another kiss between your breasts.

“Yeah. Never better.”

[the12thnightproject]

WIP Wednesday

It's going to be a few months until I start uploading chapters (it's about... maybe 30% done?), but here's a snippet of the next longfic in the Tempest in Time series (first draft, final version will likely be edited a bit. A lot.)

“Dear me.” It takes talent to make the condescending words of a British butler sound like the sarcasm of an exhausted parent. “Am I to understand that you were selling yourself in the slave market on purpose? That does put a different face on it.” Mitsuhide nodded his head to indicate the red and black paneled corridor behind me. “My bedroom is the last door on the left. You may disrobe first, although I would prefer that you wait for me to undress you.”

Since my hands were still tied together from the slave ship, I figured he was being facetious. Although, who knows. Maybe he thought that I had some contortionist skills.

“I wasn’t exactly selling myself. I have a partner who was going to purchase me, thus giving me the opportunity to view the auctions from the inside, as well as create a back story for when he paraded me around the Nanban merchants.” Figuring that Mitsuhide had no immediate plans to untie me, I wiggled around until I managed to extract the dagger I kept strapped to my ankle. The auctioneer hadn’t even bothered to search “Kaya,” – apparently, they lacked the imagination to realize that even a kidnapped housemaid would have been armed. I tried to flip the dagger around to cut the rope around my wrists, but the angle was all wrong. After I poked myself three too many times, I stuck it between my knees and began sawing away at the bindings.

“For what purpose? You cannot tell me that Akihira would permit his daughter to masquerade as a courtesan.” With benign interest, Mitsuhide watched me reposition the knife after it slipped to a useless angle. “What happened to your partner?”

“I … don’t know.” Had Francisco joined the ranks of the disappeared? Would the Nanban imprison one of their own? As to the first question… was I safe telling him that Aki was missing? The two of them were, well, if not exactly friends, they were at least friendly. Or had been before I ruined that earlier this summer. Still…

Taking a chance, I added, “Aki is missing. Like your friends Toyotomi Hideyoshi and his fiancée. Frack.” The knife had slipped again. I bent to retrieve it, but not before noticing that his posture had stiffened when I mentioned his friends. Nothing major, and he recovered immediately. But, I saw.

“You might have better luck if you held it in your teeth,” Mitsuhide said. I guess his advice, such as it was, was all the help I could expect here. “Do you have a spy in Azuchi Castle?”

If I put the knife in my mouth, I wouldn’t be able to answer his question – which… I’m sure he had considered. I again repositioned it between my knees. “Actually, we don’t. You might have to repeat whatever lecture you normally give the castle servants and vassals about not gossiping when they wander around town.”

The dagger clunked to the floor and bounced out of reach. I refused to crawl to retrieve it – it would totally undermine the attitude of casual indifference I was attempting to project. Mitsuhide might intimidate me, but there was no way I was going to let him know that. “It’s possible they didn’t notice me. I’m very good at being invisible in plain sight.”

“An enviable skill.” He got up and poured himself a cup of sake. He didn’t offer to share but that was ok because I wouldn’t have taken it anyway. While he was moving about, I used my foot to pull the dagger back, and then, as he had suggested, held it in my teeth to try to saw through the rope.

It wasn’t any easier than holding it with my knees.

With an expression of near boredom, Mitsuhide pulled out his sword. “Hold out your hands.”

I did so, presenting the rope as the best target I could. He cleanly sliced through the bindings.

Ahhhh. So much better. I massaged my wrists and wiggled my fingers. I guess I did owe him some gratitude, even if he had ruined my investigation. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head but said nothing.

“I will pay you back, of course.” It might mean breaking into Francisco’s desk, but the money was mine anyway, so I wouldn’t technically be stealing it.

“Of course.” He rubbed his chin. “Do not attempt to sell yourself into slavery again. I might not be around to rescue you next time.”

His definition of rescue differed quite a bit from mine – but I wasn’t really in position to argue. “My back-up plan involves keeping an eye on a certain warehouse.” And perhaps scamming my way – as Katsu - into a job with this mysterious Shojumaru. “I doubt I will need rescue from that.”

I pretended not to notice the look of exaggerated disbelief on his face. When he wanted to, Mitsuhide could be as expressive as Aki. “You’ve been a source of chaos since we met.”

“You’re the one who just messed up my plan.” I was still on the fence as to whether I had needed rescue. “However, if I discover anything about Lord Hideyoshi or Lady Mai, I am willing to share information.”

If Mitsuhide had planned to make reciprocal offer, I will never know, for our ‘negotiations’ were interrupted by the sound of angry shouts coming from the ground floor of the building. Mitsuhide picked up his sword and turned toward the corridor.

“Lord Mitsuhide – stop. That’s my partner. Francisco.” I rushed into the corridor and called down to the lower level. “Francisco, up here. Don’t worry. I’m safe.” Then, because Francisco’s apt to forget his Japanese even in the calmest situation, I repeated myself in Portuguese.

Moments later, Francisco rushed into the room. His face was red and there were sweat stains visible on the shirt he wore under his jerkin. “Katsu. You are here. When I learned someone bought you, I thought, Akihira will murder me.” He paused and drew in a long panting breath. And then another. “I got lost and went to the wrong ship.”

Of course he did.

Note to self. Next time find a partner who can find their way from one end of the city to the other.

He was still speaking in Portuguese, so clearly his language skills (such as they were) had deserted him completely. I hurried to reassure him. “An acquaintance of Aki’s recognized me and purchased me. If you can repay him… and maybe give him a bit extra for his trouble, then we can be on our way.”

Francisco turned to Mitsuhide and executed a clumsy bow. In halting Japanese, he thanked Mitsuhide then held out his coin purse.

Mitsuhide ignored the money and looked back at me. “You are fluent in Portuguese?”

No, Francisco and I were just talking in Pig Latin. “Yes. Speaking anyway. Reading… I’m still working on that.” The Latinate alphabet script wasn’t that difficult, but it added another layer to translations.

“That being the case, our previous agreement is nullified.” He signaled for Francisco to put away the money. “I believe I will keep you after all.”

Keep me? How…? What? I didn’t bother to hide my confusion, so it was no surprise that he easily read my expression. “I purchased you and have no intention of selling you back.”

[allywritesforfun]

Uhhh, a part 2 of the AweSamDude story. I don't know, maybe the court case would be cool! If requests arent open, then ignore them

um yes! I have wanted to make a part 2 for so long but had no clue where to start and this just makes perfect sense!

{Locked Up Heart pt 2} irl!warden!awesamdude x Reader

pronouns: were originally not mentioned, but now are she/they

word count: 2987

trigger warnings: mention/talk of rape and murder, court cases, somewhat angsty 

a/n: the law I mentioned is a real law but I can't remember what the law is actually called so roll with it

part one

masterlist

You stared at yourself in the body mirror. You haven't seen yourself look like this in years. All dressed up and ready to impress. You wore a gorgeous black suit with a purple inside along with sleek black pants. You looked into the body mirror, admiring yourself.

Sam let you live with him “until you could find your own place” but neither of you had intentions of leaving. You looked at apartments once online, but you knew with this on your record that you were going nowhere but some run down ghetto, and Sam knew that too. 

He knew that you would be able to take care of yourself there, he wasn't scared for your safety or any of that. He was scared that you wouldn't be able to support yourself. Finding a job was hard, all that there was these days for someone like you was online surveys that were not reliable.

Staying with Sam was the best of the both of you. He has been without a roommate for years now. He felt less alone with you being there. The first couple nights were awkward. You slept on the pull out couch and didn't have much clothes. You felt terrible about the amount of washes you did, but eventually you started to get more comfortable with Sam. 

The first sign of progression was when he offered you his sweatshirt instead of a blanket. It was a sweet gesture, you gladly took it. Later that night instead of returning it, you cuddled it to sleep. Now, its your version of a teddy bear. Nice and warm and flourished with Sam’s scent.

You only started sleeping in his bed with him a week ago. It was a purposeful accident. He offered to watch tv in his room since you two deep cleaned the couch. You've planned on falling asleep on him, but you didn't plan for it to be that day. 

It was the best feeling in the world: waking up to being wrapped around and held tight and safe. You must've laid there when you woke up for an hour before Sam got up. You pretended to be asleep so that you could play the innocent girl card. It worked.

You felt a pair of large hands caress your waist. You jumped and had a little fear-induced hiccup.

“Sorry!” Sam took his hands off and backed away. “I’m still getting used to sensitive areas.”

You two have been working on okay areas to touch. You taught yourself to be extra alert while in the prison and certain touches trigger your reflexes and others cause panic, like hips.

Because of your high murder count, you were sent to the normal prison, the non-all woman prison. It wasn't the worst in the world. You only saw males during eating times, but it was common to get grabbed like that. It happened to every single female, every eating hour. The guards did nothing about it, not that they really could. 

Sam has seen it before, not you, but to other women. He had an idea of areas to stay away from, but he is such an affectionate guy and sometimes he forgets.

“You’re okay, Sam. The more you do it, the more comfortable I’ll get with it,” You explained.

Sam was so good to you. He’s helped you through it all. Everything that you needed to heal, he gave to you. 

“Well then maybe after the trial we can get some practice in...” He swooned. 

You chuckled, “If we win. There’s a chance I won't come back here tonight. I’m lucky enough that they gave me stay at home orders in the meantime.”

He nodded, “We’re gonna win.” He kissed your cheek, “How could anyone that looks as scrumptious as you right now lose? There is no way. We have the evidence, and we have your perfect prison record. Not a single misdemeanor! They might not drop all chargers but you’re coming home tonight.”

“Home?” You questioned.

You've avoided that word for the longest time. You always said ‘the house’ or ‘your place’. Not because you didn’t want this to be your home, not the exact opposite. You wanted this to be forever home, but you never wanted to overstay your welcome. 

“Yes home,” Sam laughed. “Why wouldn’t this be home... you feel safe here don’t you?”

“I do!” You exclaimed, waving your hands back and forth in denial. “I just didn't realize you wanted this to be my home.”

Sam offered his hand out to you; you gladly took it. His soft hand gently squeezed yours as he pulled you slowly into him, embracing you, “Of course I want this to be your home. I couldn't imagine anywhere else I would want you to be. This never felt like home to me, until you came home with me.”

You breathed in his scent, instantly relaxing into him, “I like it here. A lot.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, “Now have that same attitude in court, we got to go.”

The court room was filled, more than you expected. You looked around, not recognizing a single face except for a few prison guards who were testifying on both sides. You noticed the media set it up in the back. Your story hit the news faster than expected. You did have a great story: warden falls in love with murder. 

“Hands out,” The officer directed.

You obliged. You opposed no threat to anyone and no intentions too, but if putting you in handcuffs made them feel better, then handcuffs it was. You looked back at Sam as the cold metal locked around your wrists. He replied with a frown, which quickly turned into an encouraging smile.

His bipolarness was the vibe right now. You noticed people having a hard time deciding where to sit. There were a lot of people on both sides, but no family members of yours. You gave up on them a long time ago when you noticed they weren’t writing letters and ignoring your calls.

You didn't need them, all you needed was Sam. You have everything you want right now, except for freedom.

“All rise!” 

You stood up from the wooden bench. The judge walked in wearing the classic black gown and had a book in his hands. He nodded at a few of his guards before taking a seat. He opened up his book and looked around the room, landing on you.

“Good afternoon everyone, and there are a lot of you,” His voice was so deep that it bounced against the walls, making an eerie echo. “Calling the case of State Prison vs y/n. Are both sides ready?”

The representative of the prison and your lawyer both replied with a yes. The jury then stood and raised their right hand and made their oath, returning to the bench. 

The representative stood up and gave their opening statement: “Ladies and gentleman of the court, Your Honor, the Jury. You will find that the defendant has been charged with four accounts of murder and convicted by confession. The defendant has taken accountability for all the murders committed and has given detail about how she killed those four men. It is ridiculous that we are here in court today deciding if we can release a serial killer back into the public. With a strong motive to kill, there is no reason why the defendant should be let back into the public eye.”

Serial killer. That is what you are. No one has ever said it that way, but he was absolutely right. You fit the definition perfectly, you had a type and more than three victims. It already wasn't looking good for you.

Your lawyer took center stage, “A martyr is the perfect word to describe the defendant. They have given their life to the state to save the lives of many to come. The strength that my client displays and ownership prove that although they are guilty of the crimes, they are still human and deserve a second chance.”

The judge called you to take the stand. You sat down after taking your oath and folded your hands neatly in your lap.

“Miss l/n,” He started. “Today you are trying to get your case dismissed after confessing to your crimes. That is very interesting. Let’s go back to before the crimes were committed, what were you thinking, what were you doing in your life at the time?”

You shook your head, “Many years ago I was an activist. I enjoyed speaking to the public about issues facing the community and the world at the time. If I wasn't outside with a sign, I was inside posting on social media. I was in college, I was studying Political Science.”

“And what were you planning on doing with the major?”

You paused. It’s been so long that you had a hard time remembering why you wanted to study and what career you wanted, “I was planning on becoming a political journalist, Your Honor.”

He shuffled around his papers, “I’ve looked at your latest credit that you were working on. It was a Sociology class. Do you remember what topic you were discussing in class?”

You nodded, “Rape. The number of rapes in a year and the number of rapists convicted was the last assignment I was working on.”

You remember that assignment like it was yesterday. That one assignment got you so worked up and so mad at the world, that you just had to do something. There was no way that you couldn't. Women’s voices were being ignored and cases rose every day; repeat offenders increased everyday.

“Now to my understanding all the men that you murdered were accused of rape.”

You nodded, “Yes, Your Honor.”

“The attorney may ask questions to Miss l/n.”

The attorney stood up and adjusted your jacket, “Miss l/n, did any of those men physically harm you?”

You shook your head, “No.”

“So you took advantage of the fact that you were young to persuade the men into being alone with you just to kill them?”

You shook your head, “No, I didn’t persuade them at all. All of them suggested going back to their place.”

“But you did stalk them to find out where they were going?”

“No,” You answered. “They had their location public on their phone. All I did was look up their name and I knew where they were.”

“So these men did nothing to you at all except invite you over to their house. And you accepted the offer under no influence or threat. You killed four innocent men and you want to be let back out on the streets? This woman is a danger to society. She seeks out innocent men to end their life for no reason.” He nodded his head and went back to his desk, looking at his notes. He looked back at you and nodded, “That will conclude my questioning.”

You looked back at your lawyer, they gave you back a look of relief. Then you searched the crowd for Sam. Once you found him he gave you a thumbs up. It seemed like you were already on top of the case.

“Miss y/n,” Your lawyer started. “We all know that you killed those men, but why?”

“They raped multiple women. When brought to court, they were given a light sentence and did not do proper justice to the woman. These woman went day to day fearing for their life that they ever spoke out about the terrible things that happened to them. I couldn't let myself live knowing that there was a reason for women to be scared because their government had failed them.”

“Those women were scared? Why were they scared?” “Because they feared that they would get raped again. All of those men were repeat offenders. They would only take more victims and never be punished.”

“So you killed those men to prevent others from being hurt with evidence that it would happen again.”

You nodded, “I would never hurt anyone that had no intentions of causing harm.”

“Miss l/n just described public defense. Under the public defense law, anyone can defend the public with reasonable cause. It’s like self-defense, but for others. She shouldn’t have been committed in the first place. If those men were still alive, they would have kept raping until they were killed. Miss y/n saved lives. That concludes my questioning.”

You were dismissed from the stand and went back by your lawyer. They smiled at you, knowing that with that alone, they had won the case.

The attorney called Sam to the stand; he took his oath and sat down.

“So, Sam. You were the warden in charge of the wing that Miss y/n was being held in?”

“Yes.”

“That prison is a tough place to be, she must’ve fussed around a lot.”

Sam shook his head, “Not one bit. She does not have a single complaint against her. Everything that was asked of her, she did with speed and efficiency. She didn't have one lash out in her time.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Like I said, not one complaint.”

“To my understanding you have a relationship with Miss l/n, is that correct?”

“Objection!” Your lawyer yelled. “Irrelevant to the case. Sam was called because of his position and his professional opinion, not his personal life.”

“Sustained.”

“That concludes my questioning.”

Your lawyer stood up and nodded. You could feel that they were about to lay down the last blow.

“Sam, did this prison have any rapists?”

He nodded, “All kinds of rapists, of all ages and target groups.”

“Did Miss l/n ever have contact with these rapists?”

“Yes. Most of the time during eating hours and the occasional passing in the hall.”

“And how did that interaction go?”

“Miss l/n was given a hard time by these rapists. While waiting in line she was often sexually grabbed. During passing she was cat called and teased at.”

“And what was here response to the sexual assault?”

“Stone faced, emotionless. Every time it happened it amazed me how she would just stand there and wait to be given a direction. The most reaction she’s ever had was lightly shuffling her body to get them off, but she never lunged or reached at them.”

“And what did the other guards do when they noticed this behavior?”

“Nothing. Sometimes they yelled if it was getting close to rape, but overall nothing. We were under instructions not to react because in the past it only caused encouragement of the assault. Prisoners love any excuse to fight a guard,” Sam looked over at you. “I am so sorry that there was nothing I could’ve done. Everyday I watched as you were touched and I wanted to give it to them, I wanted to make sure that I would see them every day of their life, but I couldn't. I couldn't risk hurting you more.”

You smiled, almost tearing up at his words, but you kept yourself composed with a small sniffle.

“The main concern of Miss y/n going back into the public is that she will kill again. As said by her and concluded by a court, she only killed rapists,” Your lawyer pointed out. “As stated by the warden in charge of looking over her, she had the opportunity to kill. She had the opportunity to hurt them, but she never took it. Even after being sexually assaulted, she still kept to herself. This is undeniable evidence that Miss y/n is a changed woman. In her file it is stated that she did more than required community service and went above and beyond with helping other cellmates. Her actions within the prison prove that she is a well-rounded and caring individual. She has changed her ways and is ready to go back into the world. She did justice to the world and it is time for the world to her justice.”

You waited anxiously for over an hour to find out what the jury had decided. You and your lawyer talked about possible outcomes. They told you the sooner they made the decision, the better chances that you had. You had no error in your case and said everything that you wanted to say. The opposing side’s evidence was all proven false.

You got called back into the court, the jury had made their final decision. You rose for the judge and took a seat when prompted. You could feel your leg bouncing.

“In the case of the State Prison vs l/n...” the judge started. You looked over your shoulder at Sam. He had his hands placed in a praying position with his head resting against them. “Miss y/n is found not guilty of all charges and her remaining sentence will be dismissed. She will compensated for her time falsely spent in prison plus be rewarded another trial for her sexual assault. This case is adjourned.”

You could feel emotion flood through you. Pure happiness and joy leaked from your eyes. You tilted your head back in relief and squeezed at your heart. All of these years of the bullshit you put up with was all worth it. You hugged your lawyer and thanked them up and down, the emotion so strong in you that you almost dropped to your knees. You were caught by familiar hands: Sam. Sam pulled you up and into him. He was practically jumping up and down in excitement. He calmed down for a second to lock eyes with you. He couldn't help but smile and cry with you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you into a deep kiss. It was nothing extravagant, just a simple deep and meaningful kiss that said all the words that he wanted to say.

“I’m coming home!”

[finelinevogue]

um the one shot based off of champagne problems was bloody amazing !!! please do a part 2 😩

the amount of requests i got for a part two was scarily high, so here it is;

Harry woke up from another nightmare.

His skin sweating and his hair messy, he had to double check his room and make sure he was safe. He’s bolted up so fast in bed that he was worried he’d knock himself unconscious. When he did a survey of his surroundings and laid back down onto his bed, he cried.

He cried and cried and cried.

Harry let his eyes close and recall that same evening he was having nightmares over.

I couldn’t feel anything.

I was numb to the touch. I felt nauseous. Light-headed. I needed someone to pinch me that this was actually happening, but I was worried I wouldn’t feel anything at all because I knew it was happening. It had happened.

Y/N had left. She’d gone. No, is what she’d said.

The whole in my heart from where Y/N had filled made me feel completely empty and useless. I wouldn’t find a purpose now. I always thought it was going to be Y/M, I was so sure. I thought she’d been sure. Yet, i’d ruined it and now she was gone and all that was left of her was the dark void in my burnt out chest.

My hands shook as I reached into my jacket pocket to pull out the ring box. It’s black velvet coating was dusty, because it was the my grandfathers. It was supposed to mean something, because she meant everything. Yet, she left me. She said no. The one most important person in my life and she’d left me. And fuck did I need her so bad. She was my fucking other half and my soulmate but she’d gone. She said no.

I threw the box into the wall, watching the ring bounce out and onto the floor. I screamed. I let my pain release itself upon me. I wanted to feel something to help me release i’m not as numb as I thought. I crashed onto the floor, knees banging hard on the wooden floorboards. I cried. Eyes stinging and mouth screaming my heartbreaking cries. I was in so much pain and yet had never felt so empty.

I noticed my mum and Gemma run up the stairs first. Mum dropped down next to me whilst Gemma collected the ring and the box, piecing it back together like it wasn’t broken - like it could just be fixed. No. This was unfixable. I was broken.

“Harry breathe hun.” Mum spoke softly and repeated over and over again. I wasn’t short of breathe, I was just extremely numb. Empty. So much pain though. I appreciated that she wasn’t telling me it was okay, but we both knew that was far from the truth. My person, my favourite person, had left me just like that. So quickly.

5 minutes. That’s all it had taken.

A couple of other guests came rushing upstairs, desperate to see a broken man. They were most likely curious as to what had happened to the surprise, but there was none. No surprise, because there was no engagement. It was over and I was done. Finished. Why bother trying to love any more when all it ends is in heartbreak? It must be me. I just must be unlovable.

My hands shook and my cries continued, but it was a friend’s voice that brought me out of my trance.

“She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame shes fucked in the head.”

I saw red.

How dare they speak about her that way. How far they treat get that way. Y/N may have left me but my heart still fucking beat for her. It bled for her. I was burning for her. I needed her, fuck I needed her.

I got up and ran down the stairs, ignoring everybody. I picked up a bottle of champagne and ran out of the front door. I popped the cork, sending it flying and I walked. I walked and walked and walked. I drank and walked.

The bottle was half empty when I made it onto her driveway.

I didn’t even realise I was here until I was here. I put the bottle down on the floor and straightened my tie, making sure I looked presentable for when I got my already broken heart broken even more. I was ready this time. But I fucking wasn’t. I couldn’t even raise my hand to the doorbell, crying before even lifting it. I cried for me. I cried my shitty heart. I cried because I love Y/N so much. She is my everything.

“H-Harry?” Her voice shot through my body and sent tingles running all up my spine.

I spun around to see her standing half-way down her driveway and eyes so heavy from crying. Her eyes were as bloodshot red as her dress. She looked perfect. Absolutely stunning. Even looking so broken and so…sad, she turned my world on it’s axis and kept me spinning. Looking at her I knew she was my home. My comfort. My person. It was just so hard to understand how 5 minutes could’ve made her feel anything but that for me.

“Y/N.” I tried to say her name firmly, but my voice cracked at the sight of her so broken. At the sight of us so broken.

“Harry w-what are you doing here?” She stuttered, wiping some of her mascara away so she didn’t look so tired and upset.

“5 minutes.” I whispered.

“Sorry wh—”

“I’m just trying to understand how everything fell apart in 5 minutes.”

“It didn’t.” She answered back, making my eyes flicker from the stone cold ground to her breathtakingly beautiful face. She was actually an angel if ever I saw one. The moon shone upon her like it had chosen her specifically to love on. I was jealous. Even the moon could touch what I couldn’t.

“What?” I asked confused.

“Forget it, Harry. We— I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” I begged for answers, moving closer to her and feeling somewhat happy when she didn’t move away from me. It made me relieved that she wasn’t entirely neglectful of me.

“Us, Harry. I can’t— It’s—” And then she started crying really harsh tears. She cupped her delicate hand over her eyes so I couldn’t see those beauties anymore. My heart broken at the sight of my sad girl. I hated it so much. I should be angry, furious, cross, upset. Yet, all I felt was sorrow and hurt for my girl. My Y/N. I moved towards her and hesitated before wrapping my arms around her, enclosing her in the tightest bear hug I could manage. I wanted her to feel loved, at least for a moment.

“Please talk to me, Y/N. I’m begging.” I cried as I rested my head on top of hers. I wanted her to know I was really hurting - that I was just as broken as her.

“I’m so sorry. So sorry Harry.” She just cried and cried, making me cry and cry. Her arms didn’t wrap around me and that stung a little, but I got to hold her so that was enough for me.

“You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” I reassured her, trying to be brave for the both of us.

“I d-don’t deserve to be.” She whimpered and it cracked my heart even more. I was going to need so many fucking plasters for this breakup. And wine. And cigarettes.

“Don’t say that. It’s not true. You just fell out of love with me and—”

She pushed away from me with a strong push, freezing me and making me widen my eyes at both her outburst and strength. “I didn’t!” She shouted, surely the neighbours were hearing this from inside their homes. I didn’t care though. I was focused on her and her alone.

“But...”

“I-I didn’t.” She cried and cried. “I love you. So much Harry. But…”

My heart didn’t know what to do now. Did it hurt for before? Did it hurt for the future? Or should it burn for the emotional tug of war my heart strings were playing?

“But what, baby? Huh? Because I fucking love you so much. Isn’t that enough?” I shouted, trying to get through to her. I needed her. Wanted her. I loved her.

“It is.” She bravely smiled before continuing. “It’s just i’m not enough.” She wobbled her lips about to start crying again but I didn’t let her. I caught up to her and held her cheeks in my palms. Her words hurt even more than a simple no.

“Never say that to me again. Ever. You hear me?” She nodded her head as her eyes clouded over again and mine followed suit. “I love you, Y/N L/N. If you never want to become my wife, that is okay. I am okay with that. I would love to see you walk down an aisle, but not at the cost of this. I’m not loosing you. I won’t. I- I can’t, okay? A world without you… Shit.” I had to stop and breathe to catch my breathe, Y/N still looking at me with starry eyes. “A world without you isn’t with living properly.”

“Harrry…”

“No Y/N. I mean it. Please. I love you. You love me. Why can’t that be enough for us?”

“It is. I-I want it to be.” Y/N stuttered.

“Then what is it?” I asked urgently, not understanding why this was all happening. And now. “What happened in those 5 minutes Y/N?”

“Harry!”

Harry was brought out of his daze, or more of a nightmare, bu shaking hands on his shoulders. His face was wet with tears and his body sweaty. He was okay, though. He tried to push the nightmare away. Far away. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because you were currently straddling his waist looking at him with sorry eyes as you woke him from the nightmare.

You were here.

“Baby…” He whispered, raising an arm to cup your cheek and you leaned into his softly. You gave it a kiss and he welcomed it with all his heart.

“Another nightmare?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” He sadly answered and you nodded sadly.

“I’m so sorry.” You spoke quietly, guilt laced rich onto your voice.

“No. Don’t do that. Stop.” Harry ordered, sitting up so that his body pressed against yours. He was so close you could taste the minty toothpaste he used before bed last night.

“It’s just.. Every nightmare you have, I can’t help but feel so guilty.” You frowned, looking to see his head shake at your words.

“Listen to me,” Harry stroked a hand over your hair and left it cupped at the back of your neck for support. “That night, sure, didn’t go as planned. I got hurt, but so did you. It wasn’t just me who had to leave because the heartache was too bad, it was you also. Sure, you were the one to say no, but I was the one who didn’t notice how sad you were. We both made mistakes that night and I won’t let you go another single fucking day thinking that your mistakes were worse than mine. We both hurt that night. We hurt each other. I just don’t ever want to lose you again. That’s why I have the nightmares, because I can’t see you leave me again, angel.”

With teary eyes you looked at him with so much awe. He had fixed your broken heart and you, his. “I love you.” And you meant it.

“I love you.” And he meant it.

He slowly picked up your hand resting it on his cheek for comfort. He loved the feeling of your soft and delicate skin there. You looked into his eyes and knew that he meant every word he’d spoken in the last 5 minutes. He loved you and forever would. The kiss he left to the ring on your finger proved just exactly that.

[kuroosweakness]

“get one that momma will like,” atsumu loudly whispers and gently nudges the little boy towards the buckets full bouquets of flowers. flowers of all colors and types. roses, tulips, sunflowers, lilies, carnations, daisies, sunflowers, more flowers than atsumu has ever seen. 

the three-year-old boy pads towards the flowers in his little sneakers and happily claps his fists. “flah-woh” 

“yes, flower,” atsumu replies with a proud smile. “which one do you think momma will like?” he squats down to the toddler’s level and scoops him into his embrace with his left arm. “do you think she’ll like red roses?” 

atsumu squishes his cheek against the boy’s face, causing giggles and hiccups out of him. 

“no” 

“...how about these then?” atsumu stands up and picks a singular light pink peony out of the bucket and squats back down. 

the boy looks at the flower with wide doe eyes and back at his dad for help. “water.” 

...? atsumu looks the flower up and down with a questioning look before coming to realization. “yeah, water’s dripping down. there’s water in the buckets because the flowers need water to stay fresh.” 

not hearing a single word atsumu said, the boy sticks his little finger out to catch the dripping water. with a drop of water on his finger, he proudly shows it off to his dad. “look! water.” 

atsumu laughs. “just don’t put your finger in your mouth. no eating.” 

while maintaining eye contact, the boy slowly opens his mouth. 

“don’t.” atsumu teasingly frowns and takes the little fist in his own hand. “no eating. now, back to buying flowers for momma.” he places the peony back into the bucket right as the toddler runs off to check out the tabletop water fountain on a tall shelf. 

“more water.” after a few seconds of standing on his tippy-toes, he decides the view’s not enough. he turns back to his dad in hopes of being carried on his shoulders, but daddy seems to be in the middle of a conversation with a strange, unknown woman. she’s wearing the same thing that dad wears when he cooks for mom. “daddy?” .... “daddy?” he says more quietly. all of a sudden, everything around him seems so tall and big....and scary. two tall men in suits walks past him. he quickly squeezes his eyes shut and shuffles behind a tall bucket, hoping that if he doesn’t see them, then the men wouldn’t see him. 

unfortunately, his plan doesn’t work out. 

“what’s up, little man?” 

the boy un-crinkles his eyes, only to see the man in eye-level with him. what does he say? why does the man have fair all over his chin? he doesn’t look nice. he’s not smiling like the way daddy does when he talks to him. unable to form other words in his mouth, a quiet and hesitant “....daddy?” slips out of his mouth. 

the man breaks out in loud laughter. “i’m not your dad. are you lost?” 

all the boy wants is for his dad to stop talking to the strange woman and to save him from ... from .. these people. 

“are you lost?” the man repeats as he tilts his head to look at the boy’s face. squeezing his hands into fists, the boy feels the sudden urge to kick the man like the way his dad taught him if someone were to make him uncomfortable. but his dad never mentioned any scary feelings...so why can he feel tears prickling in his eyes? 

“you look lost-” 

the boy runs past the man and crashes into atsumu’s leg, clutching onto it tightly as he tries to hide his face. atsumu quickly bends down and lifts the boy up with his arms, bouncing him up and down while running his right hand down his back soothingly. the still upset boy wraps his little arms tightly around his dad’s neck and sniffles. 

atsumu quickly excuses himself and heads toward the door of the flower shop. after hearing a few more sniffles, he gives the boy somes more pats. “do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” atsumu calmly asks, keeping his tone away from sounding worried. 

the boy frowns and tightens his hold around atsumu’s neck. “daddy was not there.” 

atsumu digs his keys out of his pocket and unlocks his car. “daddy was talking to a store worker about flowers for mom,” he explains as he shifts the boy’s weight onto one arm and opens the back car door with the other. atsumu sets him on the car seat and clicks in his seat belts. instead of closing the car door, atsumu climbs into the car and sits in the middle. “so....what happened?” 

the boy avoids eye contact. “w-water. i see more water.” 

atsumu nods along like he understands, which he partially does. after a few moments of nothing but silence and sniffles, atsumu softly chuckles and smoothes the boy’s hair back. “i’m assuming you got scared of the people around you? i guess i shouldn’t have left you alone... no more wandering off, alright?” 

the boy continues to stare at his sneakers and sniffles. he turns to look at his dad and reaches his hand out. “hair” 

it takes a second before atsumu knows what he’s talking about. atsumu leans down and lets the toddler pat his hair like the way he’s seen his mother do. 

“alright, alright, enough head pats.” atsumu pulls back and scans his son for any other signs of distress. all he sees are two big, pleading eyes staring into his, silently asking for reassurance. he knows the look too well. “i love you,” he consoles. “and no, daddy’s didn’t and won’t leave you alone on purpose.” 

atsumu ruffles his son’s hair and slowly climbs out of the backseat, expecting to hear ‘i love you too daddy’ back. but when he just hears a small “okay,” he lightly laughs and climbs into the driver’s seat. 

~~~

“mommy!” the boy runs out of his atsumu’s embrace and into yours. immediate relief washes over him as his nose catches the scent of your sweater. atsumu stands by the door with a tired smile. your son pulls back from the hug and frowns. “daddy ... talked to ... woman.” 

“oh?” you arch your eyebrows in amusement. this is gonna be interesting. atsumu furrows his eyebrows. “tell me more about it, baby,” you reply, while playfully looking up at atsumu. 

“daddy ... talking to woman ... with flah-wohs in his hand.” 

atsumu rushes to explain himself. his cheeks are flushed. “i was talking to an employee-” 

“daddy talking to woman with-” the boy stretches his face into a wide smile. “with a big smile.” 

atsumu heavily sighs. “i was nottttt” 

-> here’s a little dad!atsumu drabble <33 tell me what u think of it!

[shurisneakers]

shut in [epilogue]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, ptsd, swearing

Word count: 4k

A/N: annnnd we’re done :)) thank you to my resident bully @midnightsunfae for really getting this fic off the ground and helping with the planning. ily upo and thank you to everyone who’s read this series over the 5 months it’s been going on. it’s meant the absolute world to me :’)

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Your fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, an indicator of the nervousness that was building to a crescendo in your chest.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked, hand placed gently on your forearm.

You nodded, eyes downcast. If you looked at him, you wouldn’t be able to find it in yourself to follow through with it.

“I am,” you said quietly, swallowing to get rid of the lump in your throat.

“Okay,” he confirmed, letting his arm drop gently.

Ten minutes to go. You took a sip of water nervously. The glass had already found itself shifting back and forth on the table in search of the perfect place. It was a fruitless quest anyway.

The door was painted a dark green, steps leading up to it from the pavement.

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” you asked quietly, standing a stair below him in apprehension. Neither of you had contacted him or sent a message, just showed up at his place exhausted and covered in a thin layer of dirt.

“I know he won’t.” Sam raised his fist to knock thrice, a pause before knocking two more times.

A code.

He turned around slightly, checking to see if you were fine. The longer you stood out there, the more afraid you were of someone spotting the both of you, putting an end to your life before it even began. You had a feeling that paranoia would continue for a long time.

The door swung open, revealing a tall man with blonde hair leaning against the doorway with one arm. There was a nick above his eyebrow, an old scar that hadn’t faded over time. Even though his other hand was concealed behind the door, you could tell that he was holding something by the way his muscles were clenched. Years of training wouldn’t disappear overnight.

"Sam." Surprise overtook his face in a second. "You're alive."

"Don't sound so happy, I can't handle it." Sam rolled his eyes, an affectionate smile on his face. "This is Y/N, we need a place to stay."

“It’s just been a while since I heard from you, man. Coming from a hit?” Riley didn’t think twice about moving aside, scrutinising dried blood on your person as you walk past. “Nice to meet you, I’m Riley.”

It was a cane in his hand. Sam’s mention of his limp flashed in your mind.

You gave him a small wave and a quiet re-introduction of yourself, following Sam into the house.

“You could say that.” Sam paused, a hand on Riley’s shoulder as he says something out of your ear shot to him.

Riley’s face turned stoic immediately, a nod of his head and a deep exhale soon following. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” You pressed your lips together in a straight line with a corner quirked upwards, a half smile of sorts.

“Bathroom’s down the hall, to the right.” He pointed out the direction. “I’m getting you some food. Gumbo still your thing, Wilson?”

“Anything other than peanut butter.”

Riley was a blessing you could have never prepared for; knowing exactly what you both would need and anticipating emotions you had no idea you’d be feeling. For someone who had guests show up completely uninvited to crash on his couch, he was ready as ever, given that he had been through the same thing a while ago.

It was difficult. Fuck that, it was one of the hardest things to go; not pretending like everything around you would fall into soon and that you would be fine because you had to. You had worked too damn hard for you not to be.

But you knew things weren’t going to be fine right off the bat and it would be foolish to think it was.

“Sam, look at me,” you commanded gently, but there was an edge of firmness to your tone. You were sitting on the bench near the entrance of the park.

“I’m sorry, things were going good and I thought-” He shook his face that was hiding in his palm, elbows resting on his knees.

His attacks didn’t come nearly as frequently as yours. It was easy to think that he had no trauma just because he learnt how to deal with it better.

“Look at me, Sammy.” It was just a walk in the park, a stroll that should have lasted twenty minutes tops. You had been on that trail before for the same purpose but something triggered him today, someone’s gaze who lingered too long on the both of you.

He clenched his fists, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Breathe with me.” You exaggerated the movements to have him follow, a system the both of you had come up with when anxiety attacks used to hit at random. A temporary solution to an aftermath that would go on for hours, days even.

It took him a few staggered breaths to get there, finally falling into routine with you. He could feel his heartbeat slow to what it was but the pit in his stomach wouldn’t subside for a while.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” you reassured, still making sure he was breathing with you. You were nervous too and your eyes were still darting about to survey your surroundings, but he needed you at that moment. “We’re safe. We’re okay.”

“No one’s here,” he mumbles, interlacing your fingers and bringing it to his forehead to lean against your hand.

“We’re okay,” you repeated, giving him the space he needed. “We’re okay.”

“Will someone be joining you?” The waiter prodded softly. If it wasn’t your incessant tapping at the table, the clammy palms and constant checking of your watch was a clear giveaway that you could use a bit of kindness that day.

“Yeah, any minute now.” You smiled at her. She simply nodded, refilling your glass of water before leaving you alone.

You looked at your watch and sighed.

Seven minutes.

Things were fine. Things were good.

Sam and you were… undefined. Labels almost seemed too constrictive for now and it wasn’t like the both of you didn’t know what the other felt. It was kind. It was soft. Sometimes you kissed his cheek when the sunlight bounced off his face while he watered the succulents and the smile he gave you was addictive. Other times he snaked an arm around your waist and leaned his head on your shoulder while you watched the street from the kitchen window.

It made you happy, and so you tried to force away the stem of doubt that creeped into your heart.

Riley had introduced the concept of movie nights and the occasional mob movie would make it in there just to poke fun at. He showed you around the city, inviting you to go grocery shopping with him at the farmers market, the best places to get a glimpse of the music scene or to subtly point out potential date night spots.

He was a genuinely nice guy, and if you thought Sam was fun to hang out with, you were not prepared for the both of them together. You could tell why Sam adored him.

“Y/N, I don’t know how you stayed with him for all that time and didn’t murder him in his sleep.” Riley glared at Sam who had once again left his collection of music CDs strewn around on a couch. It was all in jest; it was well known that Sam found an anchor in music that kept him up late at night for a sense of calm.

“It was a close call sometimes,” you added playfully, giving Sam a grin.

“You weren’t exactly easy to survive with either.” He scoffed. “How many times did we watch Megamind in a row? Eight?”

“You wouldn’t stop watching Die Hard,” you accused, arms crossed over your chest. “It was payback.”

“You made the rule saying we couldn’t watch things more than twice in a row and you broke it first.”

“I’m gonna go,” Riley interjected. “But y’all keep at this. I heard it’s good for your soul.”

“Stay there,” Sam demanded, pointing to where he was standing a second ago. “You’re gonna be play judge since you started this shit.”

“I really don’t want to.” He shook his head, staying put nonetheless, amusement clear as day on his face.

“The laundry.”

“The dishes.”

You both narrowed your eyes at each other. His argument didn’t hold a match to yours.

“You know what, I was wrong,” Riley announced to no one in particular. “I’m pretty sure you guys would kill each other under any other circumstance.”

The smile on your face faltered but you straightened it back out with a clearing of your throat before firing a comeback.

It was barely a second, almost unnoticeable. But Sam caught it.

Four minutes.

Almost time.

The tapping became more intense, and the rate at which you pulled out your phone to check the time increased.

Fuck, this was a bad idea. How were you supposed to behave with him after all this time?

Something was wrong. Something was off.

Sam wasn’t blind to it. He could see it under the smile you eased into at game night, the complaining when too much food was ordered for three people to eat, the good natured teasing when he rolled over to your side of the bed at night to steal your blanket.

Something was eating at you, gnawing at you from the inside.

His suspicion was confirmed when you whispered at 2am one night to what you thought was an asleep partner that you wanted to move out. Find a place of your own.

His stomach dropped instantly but he didn’t so much as move a muscle.

“I need to get out. I need to have a life,” you sniffed, doing your best not to wake him up as you traced circles into his skin lightly. “I don’t know what it’s like to be independent. I won’t know unless I figure it out myself.”

The air had a chill to it and it was one of the times you had asked him to sleep in the guest bedroom with you instead of on his own, knowing that it was one of those nights where you could use a little extra warmth.

“Even when we were in there I couldn’t stop thinking about whether this thing between us was just because we were forced to stay together. You said it wasn’t, and I know that but I can’t help but think-” Your voice cracked. “Would you come back to me if things were different?”

He didn’t answer, even though he knew what he wanted to say with all the certainty in the world. Your fingers continued to draw on his skin. He continued to let you.

Sam didn’t even bring up the conversation that morning, or that week. Instead, he held you a bit closer whenever he could and gave you the space to hopefully open up to him on your own time, letting you know that he’d be there to listen.

It took a while. You both were in the middle of watching a movie that wasn’t Die Hard when you told him that you needed to talk to him about something. The hesitancy in your voice and the fixation your fingers had with the hem of your sweater was painful to witness.

He understood, of course. He always did. That you needed to experience what it was like to live, not survive. That decades of living with other kids, living under an abuser, living in a safehouse for months, was restrictive and suffocating and you needed to find what made you happy.

And so did he. It was something both of you had to do eventually, exit the bubble you had been staying in under such ardent protection for those two months.

Riley was wonderfully supportive of it, vowing to find you the best apartment that New Orleans had to offer. You didn’t doubt it.

His place had been colourful and bright and everything you could have asked for after the monotone walls you were used to. But it wasn’t yours.

A few weeks later you had moved out. Sam left a lingering kiss on your forehead, a sign to say that he’d be here whenever, whatever.

You made a Shakira joke. He laughed.

A completely fresh new start. If you failed now, it was all on you.

And what a terrifying thought that was.

It had been four months since you had left Riley’s apartment behind.

Four months since you had seen either of them.

The cafe was starting to feel too small for this event. Too intimate, too-

When the bell above the cafe chimes, something at the back of your mind instantly wakes up, sending you on high alert.

“Y/N?” he called out from behind you.

You knew he’d be early.

“Sam.” You breathed out, standing up to face him.

Video calls didn’t do him any justice. He had a particular glow to him, an aura of confidence that wasn’t there the last time you saw him. His beard was neatly trimmed and the smile that tugged at his lips the minute you caught his eye was beautiful.

You didn’t realise how different he looked until the time apart. Months of makeshift workouts and peanut butter as your only source of protein had done a number on him. You remembered him being leaner, and what you now realised was the constant burden of fatigue on his face.

“You look good.” An understatement escaped you, but he did.

He had a deep blue shirt on that hugged him in all the right places. Months of seeing him only black and grey had you damn near drooling when he wore other colours after you got out.

Not that you were staring, but his biceps had definitely made a wonderful return.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Sam sent you a smile that instantly put you at ease. “Independence looks good on you, sweetheart.”

You gave a small laugh, gesturing for him to take a seat. Should you have hugged him? Shook his hand? Kissed hi-

“It’s been a while,” he politely interrupted your overthinking. “How are things going?”

You let out a small breath. It was a big question, one that you had answered over text and call a few times but it was different now. He was in front of you now and you couldn’t bullshit the way you used to on call occasionally.

“Weird,” you admitted. “I don’t know what to do with myself now that I have all this time.”

“It takes some gettin’ used to.” He nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair.

A lot of your time went into trying new hobbies. Knitting, pottery, drawing- anything that you could get your hands on. Things didn’t always catch on, some discarded just after the first week. Others stuck, bringing you bits of triumph every time you moved forward with your newfound skill.

“You still seein’ your therapist?” He flashed a smile at the waitress who filled his glass of water.

Ah, yes. Dr. Bishop had been one of the first people you sought out.

“Yeah.” You took a sip of water. “See her weekly.”

You still had money left over from all the hit jobs that you had done. As much as you wanted to leave every inkling of that life behind, you needed the cash to live. You had enough for the time being, but you knew that eventually you had to start working; if not for the money then for the peace of mind.

“How’s that goin’?”

“She thinks I talk in elaborate metaphors. The gang’s what I call my toxic family, he was my abusive father, stuff like that.”

There were moments where you thought you saw someone you knew standing at a corner, vendors giving you icy looks from across the street, footsteps outside your door that seemed too damn loud. But nothing ever came of it.

“Thanks for the tip, by the way.” You extended a smile to him in appreciation for the idea.

“Worked with my therapist, figured it would be the same with yours.” He shrugged casually. It wasn’t like you wanted to lie to her, and you weren’t. But some things were better left in the dark.

“But I think it’s helping.” You exhaled deeply, eyes downcast. “The nightmares are reducing.”

“That’s a lot of progress.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward in pride.

Several feelings erupted from that look, some that you’d spend the whole day revelling in if you didn’t force yourself to move on.

“How about you?” you diverted the subject back to him. “How’s Riley?”

“He says he misses ya.” Sam laughed. “Says he can’t handle me alone, that he needs you back to save him.”

“What have you been doing to that poor man?” you teased, easing back into your seat. “He was fine when I left him.”

“He’s got a fancy new job now and it’s been going to his head. Needed a little humbling.”

“You’re not going too hard on him, are you?” Even though you knew he wasn’t, it was fun to make sure.

“Nah, I’d say it’s just about the right amount.” Sam grinned and you felt the familiar flutter return to your stomach. “I’ve been doing good. Working on getting my license.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that going?” You were thrilled when he said he was going to look into becoming a youth counselor, knowing that it was something he had been genuinely wanting to do for ages.

“With my background, or lack of it, it’s a little trickier than I thought it would be,” he divulges a bit more seriously. “Riley’s been pulling a few strings and I got a few contacts but it’s gonna take some more time.”

You bit your lip, worry rising for him. He deserved it, he earned it. It fucking sucked that it wasn’t going to be an easy, direct path.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said quietly, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his in reassurance.

The contact brings with it a small spark. You wondered if he still felt it.

“Yeah. We will.” He sent you a soft smile at your action, not making any effort to move it. “You been on any dates lately?”

You let out a snort at that. “Loads. Have fellas lining up at every corner for me.”

“I bet.” He’s more bold, a bit more open than he was in the first month when you both got out. “How many of them do I have to fight off?”

“I’d say six as a rough estimate.” Your expression mimicked one of consideration. “I hope you’ve been getting your hours in at the gym.”

“I’ll kick it up a notch,” he promised, hands raised in surrender.

“You better. We’re supposed to go for laser-tag.” A dumb callback to a joke he made on one of your last days there.

“Or paintball.” He remembered. It made you unnecessarily giddy. “I added an escape room to the list too.”

“Hilarious,” you fired at him, rolling your eyes slightly but the happiness on your face proved otherwise.

His laughter died down eventually, paving the way for the comfortable silence that lingered between you both. Your eyes fell down to where your hand still held his, biting your lip to conceal a smile.

“Y/N,” he called out, pulling your gaze back to his. “Jokes aside… how are you?”

You let out a breath at his question. You knew it was coming.

“Riley found me an apartment,” you murmured.

Sam looked up from his phone. “Yeah?”

“It’s a nice place. Lots of sunlight. Quiet too.” You toyed with your fingers. “But it’s about an hour away. More if you consider traffic.”

Sam set his phone down gently on the bedside table, indicating that you had his full attention.

“I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you, because I’m not. I wouldn’t, I just-”

“Hey,” he interrupted calmly, twisting his body to face you. “I don’t think you’re abandoning me. If this is what you need, then you should do it.”

“I don’t know if this is what I need. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’ve never been-” the frustration in your voice only increased as you went on. “-I don’t even know if this is going to work. What if I hate it?”

“Finding out what you hate is just as important as what you like, I think.” He watched you toy with the fidget square he had gotten you. “And you know that if you don’t feel like it, then you can come back here at any moment.”

“I know.” It was a comforting thought. A safety net.

“But would this make you happy?” That caught you by surprise.

It wasn’t something you had thought of. You thought of the negative consequences, the devastating effects it could have on you, how it could be the worst possible decision you’d ever make.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, a new anxiety setting in. “I guess we’ll see.”

You liked the neighbours who played the piano way too loud at 2am, the really terrible coffee at the therapist’s office and the feeling the paper plane on your dresser gave you when you occasionally looked at it.

You didn’t like how hot the apartment could get, especially during the afternoon, or the guy who sold magazines down the street who cursed at everyone for no reason, or the gentrified Indian food they served at the mall.

But Sam was right. Figuring out what you didn’t like was just as beautiful a journey as figuring out what you did.

“I’m happy.” You breathed out. “Or I'm working towards being happy. But it’s there.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. Simply slipped his palm under yours to lift your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m proud of you.”

If anyone could feel the heat that rose to your face they would probably think you had a fever.

The fear that you had, the one of what things would be like if you weren’t forced to survive in a confined space together, had begun to fade the minute he called out your name that day.

It was Sam. Your Sam.

You shake yourself out of your train of thought with a small smile, making a move to gather up your belongings without letting go of his hand for a second.

“Well, c’mon then. Those paintballs aren’t going to shoot themselves.”

“Are you saying this is a date?” There was a smirk on his face that wasn’t there a minute ago.

“Would you still consider it one once I annihilate you?” You tilted your head in a challenge.

“That would never happen, first of all.” He scoffed. “Second… I was thinking that maybe we could do something normal for a change.”

That had you more interested than the prospect of adventure sports. You had enough of it for a lifetime, frankly speaking.

“Lead the way, Cinnamon.” He only rolled his eyes at the nickname, sending you a vaguely threatening look. You just laughed.

“This place got good coffee?” He looked around at the establishment and its patrons.

“One of the best.”

“Then I don’t see why we have to go anywhere else,” he offered and you nodded, relaxing back into your place with the same sense of warmth in your heart that only intensified with his proposal.

He raised his hand up to flag the server, the same girl who had been helping you out since you got there, asking for two menus.

The smile he sent her was infectious. It was good.

“Sam,” you began quietly. “I missed you.”

His eyes softened, the sunlight reflecting in it making it shine like dravite. “I missed you, too.”

“Ready to order?” The waitress stands beside you with a notepad.

He looked at you and you nodded with a smile.

Things were different. You were different.

And he still came back to you.

--fin--

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <3

thank you so much for reading!

[mane--attraction]

(Rating: M

Word count: 1318)

You peer around the corner into the office, and there he is, just as you thought. Dark wasn’t usually one to take a break when he started working.

And that was the problem.

You were...more worked up than usual. Not for any reason in particular, your body just decided to be a bitch today, and you haven’t been able to focus on much of anything. And not only that, but you’re not supposed to take matters into your own hands—literally. Not that it would compare, but it would be something. You got impatient, so you threw on something a bit revealing for the top and one of your shorter skirts for the bottom. Unusual circumstances call for an (in)appropriate outfit.

So that’s why you were here, seeking out the one person who’d be able to solve this, even though you also don’t want to distract him from his work and bother him. After all, you technically should be able to wait. And it’s not like you actually have a real plan beyond just going in there and propping yourself against his desk.

You take a deep breath.

You try and act nonchalant as you practically saunter and approach the corner of his desk, leaning against it...maybe getting a bit too close to it... “Whatcha working on?”

Dark glances up at you, taking in your outfit. “Figuring out how to cover for Wil’s ‘schemes,’ while also planning on what to do next.”

You shimmy a little closer, acting as if you’re reading the papers there. “Ah, so the usual?”

The look in his eyes makes you a little nervous, the way it feels like he’s examining you. You can’t let the jig be up that quickly; you convince yourself he's looking at you like this because of your outfit, not your behavior. “Yes, the usual.”

“Cool, cool.” Right there. Seems like just the right spot. Your hips wiggle slightly and your fingers flex while your eyes flutter almost unnoticeably. “Anything I can help with?”

That expression hasn’t left his eyes, but now that you’re right where you want to be, you’ve almost stopped caring that he probably knows what you’re doing. “No, I’m afraid not. Dealing with Wilford’s aftermath is a lot more difficult than you may think, and I have yet to figure out the logistics of the next plan.”

“Mind if I read them, anyway?”

“Only if you plan to not lean over my desk the entire time.”

There’s an undercurrent of something dangerous in that, as if he’s probing, but you pretty much either completely miss it or ignore it so you don’t lose your nerve. “Oh, j-just a little bit. Not long.” You turn one of the papers towards you before he can protest. In all honesty, you aren’t quite paying attention to what’s on there. You hope that your fidgeting looks like a normal amount.

You wait until a reasonable time has passed and pass the paper back to him. He hasn’t gone back to his own work; you could feel his eyes on you while you pretended to read. “There ya go. You’re right, that’s a bit above my level of expertise.”

“You could always bring a couple over to the sofa.”

“N-nah, it’s fine, don’t gotta.” You’re starting to wonder if you should have done this, come over here and loiter when you’re this needy and not thinking straight. "I could always just—" You impulsively move to the corner next to him. You can't get as close to the desk as before, but it's enough friction. Plus, even just little brushes from his elbow against your arm would be sufficient for now. "Tada. Now I can read properly. No more looming."

You don't like the silence that follows. It's scrutinizing, and every second that passes feels like you're getting picked apart. "Are you sure that reading is what you're meaning to do?"

Fuck. "Y-yeah? They're here, might as well, keep me in the loop."

"I see. Wouldn't the couch be more comfortable, then?"

Well, yeah, but not for your purposes… You laugh, but it's a bit forced. "I-if you want me to leave you alone, I can go, it's not a problem, honestly—"

"You've been acting strange ever since you stepped foot in my office. Is something the matter?"

Your heartbeat immediately kicks up. You really should have thought of a plan beyond using his desk this way, because you can't bounce back from this questioning. You just have to retreat. You move away a little too quickly. “I really should just leave you alone—”

“Come here, Pet.”

You stop and hesitate. “I-I don’t wanna distract—”

Dark raises an eyebrow. “It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?” He points to the space next to him on the opposite side of where you were. “Come here.”

It’s not like you have an actual reason to disobey, so you nervously make your way over. He doesn’t stand as he gently turns you by your hips so you’re facing the desk, and your shiver is definitely not from cold. You find your back arching a bit, and you quickly straighten up and hold onto the desk.

Dark rings the bell on your collar almost casually, repeating his question. “Something the matter, Kitten?”

This time, despite yourself, you reply, “N-no, Sir.”

“Then why did you come visit me?”

You don’t have an answer for that, and it takes you a few moments to think of one. “Just...seeing how things were going.”

“Hm. Were you, now.”

You gnaw at your lip. That tone is just...ugh. Your stance shifts as the silence drags on, legs widening slightly. His fingers brush against your inner thigh, and your breath hitches. He moves your skirt just enough out of the way to look...

You see his lips pull into a smirk out of the corner of your eye.

“Aw.” Dark slowly trails his finger down your spine. “Is my little kitten in heat?”

You freeze. You didn’t doubt he’d guess, but not that quickly instead of teasing it further out of you, and described like that? Why’s that hot— “I—”

“Wearing these clothes, bumping up against my furniture… Do you think I didn’t know what you were doing on the corners of my desk? That I couldn’t tell from the moment you approached, smelling so sweet?” He coos, his hand reaching your behind. “Poor little kitty. So needy, she couldn’t wait for Master.”

Shit. That’s driving you down— He squeezes gently, and the shuddering breath you pull betrays your state. You bite your lip so you won’t mewl.

“I’d have you warm me, but something tells me you’d be more than a bit distracting.” He tuts. “Seems my needy pet will need to make do with either my desk or my couch.”

You whine before you can stop yourself. “But Sir—”

“No complaining.” Dark’s voice leaves no room for debate, and honestly is not helping you. “I do have work to finish, after all. And you wouldn’t want to be punished at a time like this, would you?”

Your grip on the desk tightens, your voice squeaking. “N-no, Sir.”

“Good girl. Oh, and don’t make a mess, hm?” He chuckles. “Otherwise, I might have to make you wait longer for being naughty.”

“Wait”…? Wait— “H-how long will you be?”

Dark hums; you’re not sure if he’s actually thinking or faking it. “Could be half an hour, could be an hour. Could be two.”

Desperation rises. Two hours?! Surely he’s messing with you— His finger brushes against you, where you need him, and you gasp and roll back unthinkingly. He lightly swats your behind and growls quietly. “All you need to do is be a good girl and be ready for when I’m done.”

You pout and whine to yourself, and his hand retreats. “Yes, Sir…”

“Good kitten. Run along, now. Master has work to attend to.”