#it's like how other people called coworker dear before it was revealed to be their actual nickname

[erial-c]

i yap about the yandere caller and go in depth about the implications of the shit he's doing, as well as the hints to his capabilities and how dangerous he is . and then i remember that redacted tumblr gave him the name john for shits and giggles . i love this fandom

[mercy-burning]

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or  told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST:   @reidyoulikeabook​ @yourmisosoup​ @fortheloveofcriminalminds​ @bellzo17​ @altsvu​ @flipperpenguins​ @mcumorningstar​

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

[starconsumer444]

Anniversary (18+)

Kenma x Male!Reader

A/N: Turns out that hiatus isn't permanent, so I'm back with my really shitty writing! I'll start taking requests again too (but I'm going to be slow at doing them and I probably won't get to all of them lol) <3

(CW/TW: Top!Reader, Dom!Reader, Sadist!Reader, Kidnapper!Reader, The reader is literally evil personified ;P, Kidnapping, Spit, RAPE/NONCON, FORCED FEMINIZATION [Kenma gets referred to as princess and his asshole is referred to as a cunt, needless to say... he doesn't like it], Blood [it's a nosebleed], hitting, crying, a lot of bad things??? disassociation??? this is... yeah... I tried...)

“I don’t want to hurt you.” That’s what you say, but Kenma can still feel the dull ache in his nose. “You’re too beautiful to hurt, you know?” You coo, lifting his chin with your index, forcing his eyes to meet yours. They’re puffy, red, and filled with hate. You smile and Kenmas stomach is in knots. His mind is telling him to run, but there’s nowhere to go, is there?

Trying to run is the reason blood is flowing so freely from his nose, down his chin, and on to the white dress you forced him into this morning. The bow around the dress— it’s pulled too tight. He’s undone the knot three times today, but every time you come and pull it back around his waist somehow tighter than the last time every...single...fucking...time.

Tears start to well up in his eyes again and when the first one starts to fall you let him drop his head. He’ll be past all this crying soon, he just has to get used to it or you’ll beat it out of him; whichever comes first.

He curls into himself, smearing blood and tears all into the skirt of the dress that surrounds him.

Beautiful, you think.

“I hate you.” It’s small, it’s quiet, it’s weak, it’s not worthy of a response— not yet— at least. You ignore it. You’ll let him have that one.

You're merciful enough to let him cry  on the floor between your legs as you flip through channels on the couch. You’re looking for something specific, something that will really help commemorate this as your one month anniversary.

Needless to say, you find it, right on time.

He lifts up suddenly, as if controlled by strings like a puppet, wiping tears from his eyes and turning to face the tv. He hears her voice and tears won't stop falling. They can’t stop falling when he sees his distraught mother on television crying about her son who’s been missing for a month. They can’t stop falling when he sees all his fans with candles holding prayer circles and praying for his safe return. They can’t stop falling when he sees his old friend, Kuroo, holding his shattered mother in a tight hug.

None of the words from the news broadcast register. He just sees people crying and holding each other. He sees candles lit for him. He sees flyers of his missing face being handed out. Then it’s over as quickly as it started, with the reporter coming back into frame and passing it off to one of her coworkers.

He turns to you with a new type of rage boiling inside of him and surfacing on his face. He’s up on his knees, perfectly manicured hands grasping at the fabric covering your thighs, brows furrowed, and finally looking you in the eye of his own volition. It’s the first time in a while it looks like he’s really seeing you.

What is he going to do?, You wonder.

“You know better than to hit me, don’t you?”

Surely he knows what will happen, he’s tried it several times since you’ve had him and not once has it ended positively for him.

His hands are gripping the fabric of your sweats, twisting at it with a certain fury that tells you he wants to hurt you. He does this a lot— it’s as if he has to muster up the courage to carry out such a fruitless action.

His body feels like he’s in a burning house. He can’t take this mocking. He can’t take this abuse. He can’t do it anymore. You’re watching him burn and not letting him leave or even trying to put the fire out. He wants to go home. He wants to hug his mom and tell her he’s alright. He’s tired of this.

“Please, let me call her.” He talks with a tight jaw, anger seething through clenched teeth. His head falls with his tears wetting his hands and your sweatpants. “Please let me call her. I want to go home so bad. Please.”

“No.”

And that’s all it takes.

“I fucking hate you!” and before he can even think to hurt you, he’s already down. All it takes is one good slap to the face and he’s back to his senses. His hands free the fabric he was holding on to for dear life.

He knows where he’s at. He knows he can’t win.

He lays arms crossed in your lap, sobbing. His body is wracked with shivers periodically as you stroke his hair.

“Pretty girls don’t act like this, you know.”

I’m not a girl, He thinks to himself. He’s far too gone to assert himself in any way right now.

“It’s okay to hate me. I still love you even if you do hate me.”

Kenma can’t stand that softness in your voice. You’re too good at playing the good guy. Anyone who wasn’t in his position would be inclined to fall for your fake prince charming bullshit. Is that how a psychopath like you gets by? You pretend to be soft spoken and harmless then hurt people when no one else can see you.

“You’re sick.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

You let him cry like that for ten minutes. You let him curse you under his breath (where he should keep it if he doesn’t like getting hurt), you let him get it all out. He even quietly begs for his mom and you can’t help but to think about how cute he is.

You pull him up by the back of his hair. Kenmas only got more beautiful since he’s been with you; you didn’t think it was possible. With drying blood and tears everywhere he’s mesmerizing. Even with your hands locked in his hair, this feels too good to be real.

He’s not looking at you, his eyes are unfocused, it’s more like he’s looking through you. Despite that, you pull him in for a kiss, blood and tears still fresh on his face. Of course, he doesn’t kiss back, but for once he doesn’t resist. It’s a small victory.

Now there's a growing tent under the surface of your sweats.

You let him go and pat the wide space on the couch beside you, “Get up here.”

Kenma shakes his head and backs away from you.

“Please let me go.” He pushes his body further away the moment you stand to tower over him. Then he’s turning and slipping on the skirt of the dress in his panicked rush to get away from you. He knows what’s going to happen and he wants no part in it.

You lift him with ease and slam him down onto the couch. Not once does he stop fighting you. He’s yelling for help and for you to stop. He’s kicking and screaming, begging like you’re going to kill him. Doesn’t he know that no one can hear him? It’s been a month and he hasn't figured out that much? If he’s that dumb, maybe he does really need you...

Still, it’s annoying and leaves you with no choice but to wrap your hand around his small throat. He kicks you in the stomach and your only response is to squeeze harder.

The fear sets in right then and there for Kenma. He stops his flailing and looks up to you with apologetic eyes. He doesn’t want to pass out, you choked him like this when he first got here. He can’t do it again— he doesn’t want to.

His hands come up to gently hold your wrists and his eyes become more apologetic with the increased pressure.

“Are you gonna calm down or do I have to calm you down myself?”

Kenmas body goes rigid for a second, but then he realizes he has to respond. He nods. His heart feels like it might beat out of his ribcage, but he has no choice but to force himself to stay calm.

Slowly, you release your grasp on his neck and flip up his dress to reveal his clean shaven legs and white lace panties (that do little to cover his private area). Your hand strokes down the soft skin of his thigh and you can feel him tense up, “Calm down princess. You wanna make me feel good, right?”

Kenma shakes his head and recoils expecting to be hit for his honesty.

You just chuckle as he slowly realizes you’re not going to hurt him for that and settles into himself. “Cute.” You say.

“Please…” The blonde mutters out.

“Please what?”

His throat hurts and his voice is shaky, “Don’t make me do this. I can’t do this again.” It sounds like he’s about to start crying again.

It’s been a month since you did this the first time and it’s been six days since the last time.

Kenma sees that you’re lost in thought and takes it upon himself to sit up as carefully as possible so that you don’t hit him. “Let me…” He trails off slipping his soft hand under the waistbands of both your sweatpants and underwear.

His strokes are graceless. He’s shaky, unsure, and clearly has no idea how to go about this. He only feels you getting harder in his hand as he looks you in the eye’s trying to find any sign of mercy.

You smile, “You’re such a good girl, huh?”

Kenma forces himself to smile back, but his fear is more obvious. “Yeah, Imma good girl.” He nods aggressively. If it means he has any chance of getting out of this, he’ll comply without a second thought. Dignity doesn’t matter when he’s here, he’s come to understand.

He plants soft kisses up your neck and across your jaw, and still his hand never stops. He’s so precious when he’s absolutely terrified.

“Use your spit.”

Immediately he pulls his hand away from you, spits in it, and goes right back to jerking your length. He’s so bad at it, it hardly feels good.

You titter at how anxious he seems and he jumps at the sound.

“Princess…” You start, and he hums in response. “I’m still going to fuck you, you know that, right?”

His hand withdraws straight away, “Please, no.” His head rests against your chest as he pleads for mercy. “I can’t take it. I don’t like it.”

“It’s okay, you’ll learn to like it.” You feel him shake his head. “Now, lay down.” He goes without protest.

Kenma’s far away from this by now. In his head, he’s anywhere but here. Still, he feels everything happening to him and hears everything going on around him. He doesn’t miss the sensation of you sliding off those lace panties or miss your hands on his hips turning him over to lay on his stomach. He can feel your tongue gliding over his hole, but he can’t react to it. He doesn’t squirm like he usually would— just takes whatever you’re doing to him.

The first noise Kenma makes is when you slide a single spit soaked finger into him. He’ll never get used to that sensation, and it grounds him every time. You can hear him sniffle and whine just as you thought he had run out of tears or at least had given up crying for the night.

Your finger drags against the special bundle of nerves and his body convulses and he lets out a yelp, that’s when you think it’s time to put in two fingers.

Your assault on his prostate continues and he cums, but he doesn’t seem to register it all that much. His senses are clearly a bit dulled by some sort of trauma defense mechanism his brain has. It doesn’t matter to you, though. You pull your fingers out of him and lube up your length with spit before pressing into his hole.

That gets a reaction, an intense one. He’s yelling, his words are slurred, and he’s pushing back at your waist, using his hand to try to get you to get out of him. His face looks mortified, like he didn’t know this was going to happen.

You simply grab his arm and pin it behind his back. No matter how hard he fights against you, he’ll never win and will always give up.

He’s so tight, and he’s spasming around you trying to adjust.

“Ahhh- your cunt’s so perfect, just for me, huh?” You moan out.

“No! No! No!” His voice is hoarse, he’s yelling and kicking his legs. You just press your weight onto him more.

When you start to thrust, he starts to say sorry and calm down. He’s sure he did something wrong but he just doesn’t know what. He’s sure that if he apologizes this will all be over, like some horrific nightmare.

His complaints are drowned out by your moans; it's been that way every time you’ve done this.

“Fuck, baby,” You moan breathily into his ear. “You’re so tight. You were made for this.” Kenmas head falls into the wet couch cushion. “I love you so much.”

Kenma cums again, and he must feel it this time judging by the pained moan he lets out. His body jerks with the harshness of your thrusts. There’s a mixture of sounds but the most apparent are moans and the sound of skin meeting skin.

You let go of his arm opting to pull him up by his hair, when you do, he’s back to his dazed apologizing. He seems so broken, it's exhilarating. Your “I love you.” is only met with another bland “I’m sorry.” it's clear he won't remember most of this.

When you cum inside him, there’s no reaction from him. You get up, leave him limp on the couch and go take a shower. When you come back, he’s just like you left him, still breathing, but generally unresponsive. He’s a great wife.

[rimouskis]

okay quiet late-night grumpiness:

going to games with other people is genuinely so much better than going to games alone, but my friend said something to me that kind of caught me off-guard.

so they handed out those ads for the sid audiobook at tonight's game, yeah? on the escalator up, my friend asked me if I would listen to it, and I said I had and that I loved it. she hadn't realized it was out in full yet and I told her I'd really enjoyed listening to the whole thing and how I genuinely thought it was a really good piece of audio media, and she was like, "wow, I'm pleasantly surprised it doesn't suck."

and I was like, aha, oh, really?

she sort of played it as a "well, sid's not very charismatic" thing, and I was like... no, he's... good in the audiobook, he's clearly comfortable and gives some pretty good soundbites. like I compared it to the sp*ttin' ch*clets interview where he was VERY comfortable around his old teammates. she seemed receptive to it but it definitely lingered on my mind for a while.

this friend is what I'd call an ex-fandomer. she doesn't participate or keep up with fandom anymore, and she never was a content creator (which is definitely fine, and she's a very dear friend). but it's been something we've both noticed and sort of talked around... that fandom is a big part of my life and not part of hers anymore.

most of the time it doesn't matter, and sometimes it tips "in my favor" (she envies that I have a creative outlet, that's been something she misses a lot), but sometimes I get the distinct impression that she's forcibly tried to grow herself out of fandom (as a thing she felt she had to do/should do as a person who was growing older/becoming a professional/getting into serious relationships/whatever other "adultification" process she felt was personally necessary).

and I don't know if it's me projecting my own insecurities onto the situation or if I'm accurately reading it, but I've sometimes gotten the tinge of... you know, the "I'm too mature/too old to care about that stuff anymore" attitude. she definitely doesn't care about hockey as much as she used to, which is fine, sincerely. and she DOES still like it, and it's a fun thing we can connect over, and she's never once shamed me about how I spend my time.

but sometimes it's like, oh, here's a reminder that you're in a subculture that she decided to leave. and I think a lot about that these days, especially when talking to coworkers and nonhockey friends. I spend a lot of my time and mental space and creative energy in fandom pursuits, and because of the nature of them I can reveal some things (I'm a hockey fan!) but not others (I'm out here writing RPF about it!)

idk I think I just need the pandemic to end so I can go join some rec sports leagues and start rock climbing or whatever the other chickadees are into so I can build out my "socially acceptable" hobbies a bit more and stop putting too many eggs in one basket. also I'm sad that my friend left fandom before I really blossomed in it and really (imo) started getting the most out of my experience here. but: maybe I can look at this as an opportunity to find other ways to enrich our connection that make me a more well-rounded person and give us even more things to have in common

[ithehellisbucky]

Waking Up In Vegas

spencer reid x reader

request: prompts 87 (boop), 88 (that's such a bad idea- lets do it), 89 (Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool), 96 (I'm not crying, you are.) by anon

word count: 1.7k

warnings: Mentions of drug addiction, heavy drinking and blackout, that's it.

author's note: I've had this in my inbox for months, and I'm so sorry I didn't finish it sooner. Also, what do you want to see from my blog, it seems like I only post once a week for my fics and that's a no go from me.

~~~

The light was too loud- that's a wonderful thing to think when you remember nothing of the night before. You groaned and sat up, seeing that you were in a large bed with white covers. You scratched your head and looked around, noticing that the bedboard behind you was a large pink heart.

Looking down you realize that you're wearing a sequined red bikini top and a skirt scarf combo with booty shorts underneath. Drunk you does not have good fashion sense.

Before you can notice anything else, you start to feel puke crawling up your throat and you immediately run and vomit all your guts up.

You rinse your mouth out and notice that the blanket mound you left has shifted, and you become wary and pick up a heavy brass candlestick.

And then the lump rolls over, and it's your goddamn coworker.

"Reid?"

He startles and wakes up, staring at you and then glancing down at himself- huh, there was something wrong about that picture, but you couldn't figure out what it was just yet.

"y/n? What are you doing in my hotel room?" He pauses, looks around, then mutters under his breath "this isn't my hotel room."

He looks up at you "Since when are you married?"

"I'm not," You look down at your hand, noticing a giant red ruby adorning your ring finger "I am."

You look down at his hand and notice that he is too, "And so are you."

You and Spencer look around your room, both badly masking paranoia and panic. Both of your eyes stop when you notice a picture frame in the corner- a wedding certificate.

"Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool. This is fine, no big deal, just a marriage certificate," You move over and pick it up "with both of our names on it."

"Okay, this is okay, this is fine," Spencer says, sitting back down on the bed stunned.

"So, we're married, which is a thing that happened, last night, that you definitely remember." You say, sitting down next to your newly revealed husband.

"I don't remember."

"How do you not remember? You have super memory powers!"

"This is an excellent first fight to have as a married couple, of course, you blame me." He says, standing up and shrugging.

You meet his stance "Of course I blame you! You're the smart one!"

"Oh, well Agent, I wasn't aware that you had an IQ of 25!" He pauses "25 is the number associated by Henry H. Goodard to be an idiot, it's actually-"

"I know!" You exclaim, seething with half-hearted rage.

"You know, your the one who got an addict drunk!"

"Your vice isn't alcohol! If I drugged you I'd be a monster! You ordered that first bloody mary all by yourself, and those shots we did were totally consensual!!!"

He looked up at you "you remember that?"

You think, and notice memories that you didn't know were there, "um, yeah, bits and pieces."

From the expression he makes, he looks to be remembered more too. You and your new husband sit down and let it all hit you.

~~~

"4 tequila shots please." You wave down the bartender.

You're already buzzed, but you and Spencer were just getting warmed up. Morgan and Garcia left hours ago to go to a fancy restaurant, Rossi was planted firmly at the poker table, Hotch was nowhere to be seen, JJ had gone home to be with Henry, and Emily was at a "sin to win" night at some casino that you already knew too much about just by hearing the name.

So that leaves you and Spencer at the bar in the only casino in town he wasn't banned from.

At first, you were concerned about him drinking, but once he reassured that alcohol isn't his way of self-medicating, you were okay. Besides, if you saw any red flags, you would throw his ass in rehab faster than you can say 'gin'.

So, you were 5 drinks in and having the time of your lives, showing off battle scars and laughing. God, his eyes were pretty.

"Your eyes are so pretty!" You giggled "like soooooo pretty, woooooooow."

He laughed and looked back at you "your skin is pretty, like in a non-serial killer way, it's really pretty."

"Thank you, just don't kill me for it."

"I just called no murder!" He whined "besides, how am I sure you won't kill me and scoop my eyes out?"

"Because that's gross." You said, rolling your eyes.

"And stealing your skin isn't?"

"You can' have my skin!" You say, mock running away.

He laughs, and looks directly into your eyes, and smiles, wow, he was pretty. Morgan was right.

"Hey, do you wanna get out of here?" Spencer asks you.

"Yeah, let's get ice cream!" You grab his hand, and it feels natural through your foggy brain.

After stumbling through the ice cream parlor, full of people who were trying to pretend like they weren't. Spencer got butter pecan, and you got sherbert and chocolate.

You stumbled out of the store, giggling to yourself and Spencer.

God, you loved him. So you told him.

"I love you." He stopped in his tracks, and you almost tripped on a bicycle rack.

"Really?" He whispers.

All of the giggles are gone.

"I love you."

The ice cream is long forgotten, his on the ground, and half of yours on your clothes and half next to his on the ground. All that's left is your faces inching closer to each other.

When your lips meet it feels like firecrackers going off inside your head.

His mouth is soft, gently contrasting with your soft lips. His tongue sneaks into your mouth, your smile around his.

"Let's get married." He pulls apart from you, out of breath.

You stay silent for a moment, before looking up and directly into his chocolate brown eyes "That is such a bad idea-"

He diverts his eyes and scratches the back of his skull "Um, yeah, that's okay, let's-"

"Let's do it."

He looks back at you, and you grab his body and kiss him.

~~~

Sometimes people can be happy, you realize as an elderly woman ties a sash around your waist.

You have to be honest, you never thought this was gonna be how you were gonna get married. Hell, you weren't sure if you were gonna get married at all. But certainly not like this. Certainly not at 1 am to your coworker 7 drinks in at a cheap roadside attraction.

Definitely not like this.

But something about this weirdness felt like the only way anything ever would've made any sense.

There was something about the outfit you were wearing that was perfect, a bright red bra covered in sequins underneath a top with buttons and poofy sleeves that showed off a lot of your chest, a wrap-around cheap white silk skirt with jeans shorts underneath. And of course purple open-toed boots. Perfect.

Marrying Spencer Reid is like a fever dream. A perfect man with perfect hair and perfect eyes. So of course you were giggling like crazy while they put the cheap crown with pink tulle serving as a veil on your head.

Your witnesses were an elderly couple, of course, you wanted to have your best friends there, but knowing them they'd try to talk you out, and believe me, there was no way you wanted out of it.

"Now's time dear," the woman exclaims, gently patting you on the shoulder and leading you out of the fitting room and towards the chapel.

The owner of the business hooks his arm around yours and leads you into the chapel, church bells from an iPod attached to a speaker ringing out into the air.

Spencer turns around the air visibly leaves his lungs when you make eye contact. The chapel you two had chosen in this drunken haze was costume-themed, and he was wearing an ancient Rome costume that fit the time where his favorite philosopher, so even though no one else noticed, you could tell he was dressed as Gaius.

His hair had been attempted to slick back, but little curls were popping up all over the place instead. He was wringing his hands tightly and bouncing his knee, god you couldn't wait to marry him.

The elderly man who had led you to the alter places you next to Spencer, you couldn't focus on anything but your soon-to-be-husband.

Spencer takes his hands and gently pulls your veil up from around your face, and a tear trickles out of his eyes as he sees you. You smile and notice his nerves, try to calm the love of your life down "boop", you gently tap his nose and he smiles in comfort.

The officiant drones on and on about love but you can't hear him, all you can focus on is his love-filled eyes.

"Do you take Spencer Reid to be your husband?"

Your eyes snap out of their daze and you say with the most certainty than you have ever said anything: "I do."

"And do you take (y/n) (y/l/n) to be your life partner for as long as you may live?"

"I do," And you feel more wanted than you ever have in your life, he wants you, Spencer wants you.

~~~

You and Spencer sit on your bed in stunned silence, neither believing that last night had really happened. You look over at your apparent husband and notice tears streaming down his face.

"You're crying." You say, your voice coming out as a chocked whisper.

"I'm not crying, you are." You look down and notice that your shirt is soaked in tears.

"Oh." You take a deep breath and look into his eyes. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Get an annulment?" He doesn't look completely happy about his answer and stares into your eyes for reassurance.

You take a deep breath and stare off into the distance, out into a world that would be so much better if you were married to Spencer Reid. "I don't want that."

You look back at him to meet his eyes, "Me neither."

"I love you, a lot, and I want to be married to you." Spencer smiles, and you feel wanted and safe and loved.

Instead of saying it back, he kissed you with a passion that was way more descriptive than simple words. Spencer is your husband and you love him, he loves you, and you are finally wanted.

~~

My Masterlist

Requests are open!

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

Criminal Minds:

[lnc2]

this time next year

Summary: Marinette is worried about the future. Adrien wants to know where he fits into it.

A/N: This piece was written for the @mlwriterzine and I’m so excited to finally share this with you!  I hope you enjoy it and also go check out the zine because there are so many amazing stories/art pieces collected there.

AO3

The party was well underway by the time Adrien knocked on Nino’s door. Alya was the one who answered, half of her face obscured by gold tin foil pinned to a green beret.

“Speak of the devil,” she grinned, leaning heavily on the door frame.

Adrien bussed her cheek and passed over the bottle of rosé he’d swiped from his father’s wine cellar. “Sorry, Alya. The show ran late. You know how those things go.”

She waved him in, whistling at the bottle in her hands, and shook her head. “Thankfully I don’t. Everyone’s in the living room.”

Adrien followed her into the kitchen instead, eyes straying over the tipsy, crowded apartment. Back against the wall, where Nino’s faded and cracked leather couch usually sat, was a long table covered in gold plastic sheeting. Green and gold hats of various styles were littered across, as well as glitter, rhinestones, netting, feathers, and any other number of crafting materials.

He smiled. “I see you’ve all started without me.”

“Naturally,” Alya said, putting his gift in the fridge to chill. “You’re several drinks behind us now, Agreste. Pick your poison.” She gestured to the half-empty bottles of liquor scattered across the bar.

“No tequila?”

She snorted. “You’ll have to track down Marinette for that one. She ran off with the bottle half an hour ago.”

Something warm filled his chest. “A cup of ice and a lime then.”

“Good luck with that,” Alya said, bumping his shoulder as she passed him the glass. Adrien laughed as he followed her into the living room, his smile widening as he spotted Kagami fussing with the green flowers on her gold newspaper hat.

“I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

Alya batted her hand away. “It’s tradition!”

She pressed her lips together. “It’s archaic.”

“Boo,” a familiar voice called from behind him. Adrien’s heart stuttered as a familiar pair of arms slipped around his waist. “It’s just for fun. No one takes it seriously.”

Adrien thought back to earlier in the evening and Gabriel’s annual Saint Catherine’s Day gala and couldn’t agree. There was a stark difference between the frivolousness and whimsy of Nino’s house party and the staid sobriety of his father’s fashion show.

As if reading his thoughts, Marinette’s eyes sparkled up at him beneath gold netting. “At least no one here.”

“Speak for yourself,” Alya said. She adjusted her hat and threw an accusatory look towards Nino. “Tick tock, babe.”

“You won’t let me propose until you’re out of grad school,” he whined.

Adrien hid his grin as the familiar argument ensued. Instead, he tipped his cup of ice towards the half-empty bottle in Marinette’s hand.

“You’re one of the few people I’d share with,” she said, filling his glass. Adrien leaned down to whisper his gratitude only to be pushed from the other side, causing them to knock heads.

Marinette laughed waving off his apologies with a squeeze to his waist even as their assaulter continued to elbow into the group.

“I’m never getting married,” Alix announced from her position on the back of one of Alya’s coworkers. There was a crown on her head but no decorations. She gestured wildly with her free hand. “Just call me Queen Catherinette.”

“All hail,” Alya said, clinking her wine glass against a reluctant Kagami’s. Her glassy eyes strayed towards Marinette. “What about you, girl? It’s been a while since I’ve heard about Emma, Louis, and Hugo.”

Adrien tried not to sound too interested when he asked, “Who?”

Marinette laughed, her flushed cheeks flushing further. “I’m afraid that future is on hold, Al. I need to find a boyfriend first.”

She removed her arm from around his waist then and Adrien had to restrain himself from pulling her back to his side. Instead, he took a healthy swallow of tequila and let the conversation drift into less turbulent waters.

Now was hardly the time to volunteer his name to the top of her list. 

Adrien could think of two, maybe three very important conversations they needed to have before he could even approach that topic. The most pressing of which weighed heavy on his right hand and sparkled like precious gems on his lady’s ears.

He watched over the rim of his glass as Marinette giggled with the other women in their silly hats. One of them—Alix’s roommate, he thought—burst out with a jubilant, “For pity’s sake, give us a husband!” only for the others to raise their glasses with various tipsy rounds of, “Hear, hear!”

He smiled as Marinette wrestled Kagami’s fidgeting hands away from her hat. It had only been a few weeks since their reveal but Adrien was struggling to see how he could have missed the woman he’d loved for a decade in his dear and wonderful friend.

“Some party, huh?”

Adrien coughed as Nino slapped him on the back just as he was swallowing. Nino laughed at his accusing glare. 

“Sorry man,” he said, grinning. “I thought you heard me coming but I guess you were distracted.”

Adrien ignored the teasing lilt in his friend’s voice.“It’s a good crowd,” he said instead. “I’m sorry I was so late.”

“No worries. Although if everything goes well hopefully this will be the last Saint Catherine’s party we’ll be hosting.”

Adrien laughed. “You think you’ll have worn Alya down by then?”

Nino shrugged. “Fingers crossed. I’ve had this ring burning a hole in my pocket for two months now.”

“Maybe you should be the one wearing the hat.” He grinned, only to receive a rough shove to his shoulder.

“You’re one to talk.”

Adrien pretended not to understand.

“Seriously, dude?” Nino shook his head. “You’re not that slick. If you like her you should just ask her out. I know for a fact she used to have a thing for you.”

And even though Adrien already knew that, even though Marinette told him so several years earlier when her crush was a thing of the past as she’d laughingly put it, hearing his heart’s desire put into words so matter-of-factly did things to him.

Things like make him want to punch a hole in the nearest wall or tear out his hair in frustration.

Because really, how was it fair that the one woman he’d spent years chasing had actually spent several years of her own chasing him right back?

It wasn’t.

Not when Adrien still found himself in the chase and she had apparently just … stopped.

“That was a long time ago, Nino.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

“... Why?” Adrien stared, stomach clenching. “Did she say something? Did Alya say something?” 

His heart raced like hummingbirds wings in his throat as he tried to catch his friend’s gaze. 

Adrien grabbed his shoulder and shook. “Nino.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything.” He laughed, before hiding his smile behind his glass as they caught Alya’s attention across the room. Adrien met her suspicious frown with a wave even as his other hand tightened on Nino’s shoulder. 

“But …?”

“But … I wouldn’t count myself out just yet.”

Adrien’s hand fell to his side as all of his breath rushed out of him. “Oh.”

“Although, that may change if you don’t do something about it. Sooner rather than later if Kim’s roommate is anything to go by.”

Nino nodded towards the corner of the room where Marinette was chatting with a tall brunette. He was leaning towards her, his fingers playing at the edge of the netting on her hat as he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Adrien was already halfway across the room when Nino shouted, “Good luck!”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do to break up their little tete-a-tete but he needn’t have worried. As soon as he was in her line of sight Marinette’s smile lit up like the Eiffel tower and there was little left for him to do other than introduce himself before the interloper tried his luck elsewhere.

“Come outside with me,” she said, tugging his arm. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Your fault,” Adrien said, happy to follow her anywhere. “You canceled patrol.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You know I had to finish up those pieces for your father’s show.”

“At least you weren’t forced to go.”

She laughed and leaned back against the balcony railing. It was cooler than usual tonight as fall slowly gave way to winter and they had the little patio all to themselves. “Perks of being a lowly intern.”

“Please,” he said, bumping her shoulder. “You’ll be a junior designer by next year.”

She hummed, taking a swig of tequila from the bottle only to cough as it hit the back of her throat.

“You can mix that with something you know?”

His lady winced and took another sip, smaller this time. “Who has time for that?”

“You if you’d just slow down.”

It was only half a joke. Lately, even before their Big Reveal, Adrien noticed something changing in Marinette. She was a little less scattered, a little more single-minded. There was almost a frenzied focus about her, like some great fear was nipping at her heels, spurring her forward.

It wasn’t until her timer ran out during an akuma attack that he began to understand why.

“It was ten years this September,” she murmured, turning out to face the cobbled streets below.

Adrien hesitated before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side.

“We’ll get him, bug. I promise.”

“But when, Chat?” She started to lean her head against his shoulder only for her hat to get in the way. Frustrated, she ripped the little masterpiece off her head and crushed it in her hands.

“Stupid holidays aside, I do want a life, Adrien.” She ripped lightly at the netting. “You said I’ll make junior designer by next year? I don’t see how that’s possible when I’m running out of work every other day because someone couldn’t control their emotions.”

Her voice caught on the last word and he was horrified to realize she was crying. “I want to run my own business someday. I want –– I want to fall in love and get married and have babies.” She looked up, teary gaze meeting his. “How can I do anything when I always have one foot out the window waiting for the next catastrophe? Who could put up with that?”

“You’re not someone a person has to put up with, my lady.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Right. Tell that to my exes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because really that’s all he could do.

“Don’t be.” She sniffed, giving him a sad, sad smile. “You can’t do anything about it any more than I can.”

That wasn’t entirely true though.

Adrien turned his attention towards the scrunched up hat in her hands. Marinette followed his gaze and gave a watery laugh.

“I want it all, Adrien,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Do you?” she asked, eyes wide and blue and wet and angry. “Do you really?”

Adrien pulled her to him then, giving her the hug her fears deserved. Marinette clutched at his back, her arms sliding beneath his coat to wrap around his waist, giving as good as she got.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.” 

Tears stung his eyes and words, the right words, stuck in the back of his throat as she gave voice to desires he’d never been brave enough to even dream. Not when Ladybug said no and not when Marinette said not anymore and not when they merged and became everything he’d ever wanted but feared he’d never have.

She wanted it all. 

Adrien closed his eyes and breathed in his lady’s perfume. Freesia and jasmine and something he’d never been able to name. Marinette’s arms loosened around his waist when it seemed like he would pull away, but Adrien only held her tighter.

“I––” He stopped. “You said you don’t want to slow down?”

Marinette nodded.

“Well … how—how would you feel about a chaser?”

She pulled away so she could see his face. “A chaser?” she repeated, frowning.

Adrien bit his lip, feeling heat rushing up his neck and ears. “Ah, yeah,” he said, doing his best to hold her gaze. “Like—like a partner. To your tequila, I mean.”

Adrien watched as confusion gave way to understanding in the form of a perfect little open-mouthed oh. His heart was pounding hard enough he was starting to suspect she could hear it when her eyes glistened up at him beneath the dim porch lights.

God help him but he couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t trust the gentleness in her gaze or the way her body went soft against his or the purse of her lips as she watched him with that pleased little half-smile as realization gave way to something and that something could only be called wonderful as she ducked her head beneath his chin, pressed her lips against the open collar skin of his neck and finally, finally whispered in that small, hopeful impatient way of hers,

“Are you volunteering?”

And even though he knew she knew and even though the question really didn’t require an answer, Adrien tightened his hold on her until they were swaying together chest to chest and repeated the only thing he’d ever wanted to give her.

Yes.

[necr0bvnny]

Nuclear Fusion - Chapter 1

Pairing: Otto Octavius/Doctor Octopus x Original Female Character

Genres: Action, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, From Nobody to Nightmare, Mad Scientist(s)

Content/Warnings: Fluff, First Meetings

Summary:

Dr. Kali Kavanah, a timid woman with a genius intellect, works as the head biochemist at Oscorp Industries. Her sheltered life changes when Norman Osborn assigns her to create a special formula for him with the help of Dr. Otto Octavius. What follows is a rollercoaster of romance, betrayal, and their descent into villainy.

A/N: Hi there!! This series will basically be both a Doc Ock x OC fic and the origin story for my Spider-Man villain OC! I’ll be making art for some of the chapters (plus art for my Spider-verse in general) and adding content warnings to certain ones because I do plan for this story to get graphic at times. I hope you all enjoy!! 😊💚

Link to AO3 post

————

“Do I feel happy in life? Um.. Let’s see. Well, I do hope I’m finding happiness. For me, if I can realise certain things in my work, I come the closest to being happy and I can say that also about my life. It only happens in moments, sometimes when I'm working and I’ll be able to fulfill a project successfully and then I think I'm the happiest. While I find it very stimulating to keep studying and working, I'm not just generally happy. If I'm generally anything I'd say I’m generally miserable, hehe!”

The white mice stared up curiously at Kali as she spoke to them in a tranquil tone. Of course, they said nothing back. She liked to pretend that they did though.

“.... I don't know.” She sighed.

Kali tended to work with animals more than people now ever since being promoted to head scientist. This was both a blessing and a curse however. She loved the animals dearly and valued them as lab partners, but nothing could beat real human interaction. While she was forever grateful to be given her position after years of hard work, she wished her boss would be a little more kind. Just because she has the brain power to complete every project he throws at her doesn't mean she should be doing it all alone. But she guessed this was his way of keeping her on her toes.

She lifted one of the mice up to her shoulder and rewarded it with a small piece of an apple that she had been eating, then made sure to give the others in the glass terrarium a few slices to share as well. Nobody went hungry in Dr. Kavanah's lab.

With her test subjects fed, she picked up the cage and walked to return them with the other animals. Within a few minutes Kali was back at her lab.

Upon entering, she was surprised to see her boss standing in the middle of the room waiting for her to return. Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp. Wearing a dark green suit so clean that it looked as though it was bought that morning, he stood tall and proud while opening a briefcase up on one of the tables.

"Good news, Kali. I have a new project to keep you busy." He handed her a document which she immediately opened with glee and began speed-reading the first page.

"Thank you, sir! What did you have in mind?"

"I’ve just struck up a deal with a veterinary pharmaceutical company. I was hoping you can create a sort of.. animal steroid for me. All of the effects they want to see are written down for you to go over later.”

Kali closed the documents and sat them down on the closest work table, sensing that that wasn’t all Norman had to say. “Of course, sir. I’ll begin as soon as possible.”

“There is one more thing you must know about this project. The company has requested that we use some benign radioactive ingredients in the formula. Seeing as how your specialty is biochemistry, I’ve hired you a lab partner that can help you with the more sensitive materials you'll be handling."

Turning around to face the entrance, Norman then half-shouted, "Come on in."

Suddenly all of Kali's attention was on the new company entering the lab. In walked Dr. Otto Octavius, head scientist at the U.S Atomic Research Center. She felt her heart get caught in her throat as he came right up to her and offered his hand with a smile.

"Good evening, Dr. Kavanah. It's a pleasure to be working with you."

"Oh, it is an honor, Dr. Octavius! I've read nearly all of your articles and interviews."

"Please, we're going to be working together for quite a while. Just call me Otto."

"Yes, sir! I-I mean Otto.. " After realizing she was still shaking his hand, she awkwardly let go, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

"Well, now that I have you two geniuses together I should be off. Good luck." With that, Osborn was out the door before anyone could respond.

"Please, make yourself at home! The office and bathroom are that way," Kali pointed to the door and window at the far right of the laboratory.

"Ah, thank you, dear. I'll be back shortly."

Otto walked off into the office and shut the door behind him, though she couldn't see what he was doing as the window had it's blinds drawn.

Kali stood alone in the middle of the lab, still trying to process everything that was happening. She couldn't believe it. Otto Octavius himself was going to be working with her, her of all people! She had seen him in person before but only from afar at a science convention a few years ago. At that time he was first introducing the world to the concept of his masterpiece, the four-armed apparatus that he used for handling nuclear material. He had since finished it but she had only seen it in pictures. She wondered for a moment if he was going to be bringing it to her lab, and the excitement at the idea forced a little squeal out of her.

Soon enough Dr. Octavius finally exited the office holding a magazine and chuckling to himself. Once he was back in front of Kali, he showed the front cover of it to her to reveal an image of himself standing proudly in front of a mechanical arm displayed on the table behind him. Kali's cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"I see you weren't lying about being a fan. I'm guessing you may know me better as 'Doctor Octopus' as my coworkers have grown fond of calling me."

"No, sir. I believe name calling like that is a petty tactic used by the weak-minded to undermine those they don't understand."

Otto smiled wider at her words.

"Y'know, I've done my own fair share of reading about you as well. Your work is nothing short of brilliance."

Kali perked up a bit at his compliment, her cheeks burning for a different reason now. "Really?"

"Of course! I've been meaning to get in touch with you even before Osborn hired me. Seeing as how we have some free time at the moment, I'd like to get to know you better if that's alright? We are lab partners now after all."

He pulled up two chairs, sitting down in one and offering the other one to her. Kali sat down across from him with an awkward smile and thanked him.

"Um, well… I don't know what to say, hehe. I suppose you can ask me anything you're curious about!"

Kali couldn't remember the last time she had sat down with someone and talked back and forth for who knows how long, laughing and simply enjoying each other's presence. Otto asked her many questions about herself, though none too personal. Everything he wanted to know about her seemed to be trivial, things such as 'how do you like your tea?' and 'do you have any pets?'. Things Kali didn't think anyone would ever care to know about her. And yet here he was, wanting to know and seeming fully invested as she spoke about herself.

Hours passed and eventually Otto checked his watch, realizing that it was time to go home. Kali was genuinely surprised, as it only felt like minutes had gone by. As they said their goodbyes for the night, her world seemed to fade back to grey as he left the laboratory. But knowing she would see him again the next day brought a toothy smile back to her face. Moving into the office, she fell back onto the couch on the right side of the room and let out a joyous sigh. Rats may have been adorable companions, but they couldn't ask you how your day was or flash you a genuine, debonair smile like Otto could.

Her heart swelled within her chest as she spent the rest of the night thinking about her new friend.

[yunhostinyuyu]

no one‘s gonna believe that

pairing: co-worker!ten x fem reader ft. co-worker!johnny

genre: work!au, suggestive, little smutty

wc: 2.1k

synopsis: Y/N tried to escape the flirtatious attempts of one of her colleagues, but thankfully someone else stepped in to help...

warnings: mentioned sexual harassment, hickeys, they’re basically just making out at work

—

You find yourself in the break room by the water dispenser, and waiting for what feels like ages for your jug to fill up all the way. Internally praying that a certain someone would leave you alone, and that he would not appear out of thin air right now, just to hit on you. But of course, your prayers were not answered:

„Hey there, Y/N, how are you doing?“ the tall man in question walked up to you and stood just a few inches away from your small form. Internally cursing at him, but not letting your discomfort about his presence show.

„Hi, Johnny... I‘m good, thanks for asking“ you tried to dismiss his attempt on starting a conversation with you. It could be nice having someone like Johnny swoon over you, yes. He was indeed a very handsome man, but everyone knew that he isn’t a keeper, and quite frankly you were just not into one night stands or anything casual. Admitting to yourself that you were a hopeless romantic, but  at the same time you were okay with being single for now. This way you could have all your attention on work, no distractions. And if you didn’t knew better from your other coworkers, who have worked here longer than you, you would think he just really attentive in trying to seduce you. But not only have you witnessed him behaving worse in order to get what he wants, the stories that are being told about him around the office are ten times worse. So you wanted to avoid him at all costs, telling him you are in a relationship, or currently seeing someone, but he doesn’t believe you - lack of evidence. Today however, you came prepared.

As your jug was full enough, you tried to walk around him in order to get back to your office, but you were unsuccsessful in your attempt. He took another step to cut of your way back. “Why are you always in such a rush? It’s break time soon, isn't it?”. You sighed to yourself, but quiet enough for him not to register.

“I would really love to Johnny but, I have an important file open on my PC that i need to finish and submit tonight...” you dragged your hand up to your shoulder, pushing the soft material of your loose blouse to the side, revealing a hickey you placed there by yourself. Yes, you went as far as giving yourself hickeys to get rid of him. It sounds stupid, yes, but he has been trying shooting his shot for weeks now and he didn't accept any of your excuses, assuming you were playing hard to get. And you tried every trick in the book, except for one: being said love bite on your pale skin that was on show now for him to see.

His eyes wandered to the red and purple spot and widened in shock. You send him a quick apologetic smile as you walk around him, dashing towards your cubicle in a hurry.

You placed the jug on the edge of your desk and turned your attention back to the piece of work that was right in front of you. Only sounds coming from you were the keys of your keyboard being pressed rythmically and and eventual clicks of your mouse. Even if this wasn't your favorite type of work, it was a way of proofing that you are indeed a talented writer and deserved the promotion your boss was dangling in front of everyone in your division for the past couple of weeks. And you were eager to get it. Minutes pass by and you loose track of time as you only focus lies on the task at hand.

“Now, you know that no one’s gonna believe that?”

You turn your head around and find one of your colleagues at the entrance of your little cubicle. But as you see his face, you turn right back around and continue typing. “Believe what, Ten? You see that I’m busy, right?”

He just chuckles and moves towards your chair, starting to explain his intrusion. “Of course i know that, Y/N, we all work our asses off for that promotion. But I’m speaking of your amateurish attempts on getting Johnny off your back. And I have to admit, the idea wasn't bad, but poorly executed. You played yourself.”

The only thing you could manage for now was a half hearted scoff. Ten was a decent guy, but borderline annoying some times, now being an excellent example. He was friends with Johnny, so you didn't understand what he was hinting at.

“Last time I checked my relationships were non of your business.” you remonstrated. But Ten wasn't buying it as easily as Johnny did minutes ago.

“Listen, I’m not trying to defend him, I admit that I think most of the women in here give him a bad wrap for things he might have said or done while being drunk, but that’s not the reason why I’m here right now, Y/N. You see, first of all, who would give you a hickey on your shoulder of all places? Chest, okay, i get it, neck, i get it. But shoulder? He will become suspicious of it soon enough.”

Your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment as Ten dismantled your disguise right on the spot. It was humiliating being called out like this. You couldn't even keep you lie up for longer than a day, but Ten was right, you both knew it. You pushed the keyboard back in frustration, turning yourself to the side to look at the slim figure.

“What else am I supposed to do? He won't take no for an answer and I fucking enjoy my single life. And I can't be mean enough to tell him to fuck off now, can I? I don’t know, Ten, tell me!” you exclaim, both anger and frustration tangible in your tone, and he whips his head in all directions to make sure no one heard your mini-outburst. 

The older one crotches down, so that he won't be visible for people walking around in the office. You try to calm down and get your focus back to work, which seemed almost impossible after Ten took apart your plan into small bits and pieces, trying to hide your state behind your hands and covering your face up with them.

“Listen, I know you damn well by now, so don’t fight me on this. But, I may or may not have a solution for you, that could get Johnny off your heels for good. But feel free to tell me to fuck off anytime, darling. It’s just an offer.” He asserted while patting your hair lightly. Slowly but surely taking your fingers off your eyelids to look him into his eyes. There was no sign of pranking you or any sarcastic comment being in sight, but you still sneered at him in response.

“Don’t pull any shit on me, I’m warning you. What’s the solution?”

ignoring your moody comment, he continues his explanation unbothered.

“If you would really have a boyfriend, Johnny would leave you alone, but you play hard to get without realizing it... You see, your own mouth can only reach so far...” his fingers trailing up to your selfmade hickey, traveling further up to your throat and neck, “while someone else's mouth can reach much further”.

Without a second thought, you slap his hand away. “Thanks, but no thanks. Can you now kindly piss off?” Ten visibly took offense to your reaction, pulling himself back into a standing position. 

“Suit yourself. But don’t come back to me when you realize your plan was doomed to fail.” and he disappeared out of your workspace. To say his offer didn’t leave you hot and bothered would be a lie, but you pushed all that aside, before taking another gulp of water and once again, shifting your concentration on the file.

-

Another week goes by, and unfortunately, Johnny didn't leave you alone, still hitting on you every time you crossed paths. The hickey on your shoulder left a sour taste in his mouth, and it really didn't imply that you were in a relationship at all. His comments teasing you about the guy that gave you the hickey, making it harder and harder each day to get out of his presence, to the point were you didn’t leave your cubicle on your own anymore. It was all starting to eat on your conscience and take your confidence away. With every passing day, you were conflicted over and over again, debating if you should pick up on Ten’s offer. Yet, you find your eyes glued onto his work space, were he busied himself with a shit load of work. What’s the harm in asking him to do what he has come up by himself? you keep thinking to yourself, but then still unsure if it was the right thing to do.

Sighing to yourself, but your legs are already taking you to his desk, only a few cubicles away from your own. You turn again, just realizing that it was past 18:00 o'clock and most of your co-workers already left, leaving only a handful of people that are all eager to finish their work as soon as possible.

As you bring your hand to knock on his glass shield, immediate regret makes itself present in your system, but it’s already too late now. He turns around in his office chair and a smile appeared on his lips the moment he saw you. Genuinely glad about seeing you right now.

“Hey! What’s up? You’re still here?” he asks as he leans back and lets his eyes trail over your form, oversized black blouse that is messily tucked into your blue high waisted jeans. A forced smile stretching over your thin lips before you replied.

“Yeah, uhm, kinda... Am I interrupting you or something?” stammering and tumbling over your own words, awkwardly crossing your arms. He eyes you skeptically, clearly noticing your nervousness.

“No, not at all, why? Did something happen, dear?” his tone calm and comforting, even if you didn't expect this reaction from him. You bit your tongue before you continued.

“No! Well, uhm, yeah... kinda? The Johnny thing- you know, uhm... I was just wondering if-” you stammered and tried your hardest to avoid eye contact, feeling uneasy about the whole thing still. You felt stupid, really, even after he reacted so harshly after he suggested this whole thing for the first time.

He coos as he gets what you’re hinting at, “Aww, so you did realize your plan wasn’t working out, huh? I figured, but I didn’t realize you would actually take up on my offer after all, even if you were rude last time.”

Your ears turn red the longer you stood in front of him. “I’m sorry about that, I didn't mean it...” Truly expecting him to tease you further, but that wasn't the case. Instead he stretched his arms out towards you, motioning for you to come and take a seat on his lap, and you carefully did just that. Making him look at the side of your face from the angle you sat down. Ten took hold of your hands, and rubbed little cirlces into your palms. 

“Are you sure you want me to do this? Just tell me to stop and I will.” He asked for consent, but you nodded eagerly in reply. “I trust you with this. It’s okay.”

He nodded as his eyes were fixed on your exposed neck, fingers slowly touching the skin before he leaned in. Hands wandering to the crook of your neck and your hip respectively. As he started to place wet kisses all over your chest and neck area, sucking on the skin quite harshly, your fingers gripped his hair at the sensation, and you readjusted your sitting position, for Ten to have better access. You quickly lost yourself at the sensation of his lips and tongue working on creating dark marks all over yourself.

To your surprise, after only giving you a few more sucks and bites, he pulled back to admire his work of art. Secretly hoping that he would continue for a little longer, but you snapped back into reality quite quickly. Hands detaching from each other. 

“You okay? Look at them.” he held out his phone, which had the front camera opened. After a few seconds you started to giggle and hand him his device back. 

“They look okay, thank you.” you stood up and told yourself that this would never happen again as you went back to get your stuff from your desk.

But in the end, you found yourself in Ten’s lap more often then you expected.

—

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Dirty computer.

summary: in order to clean the world, humans need to be cleaned too.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: angst, fluff, use of needles.

a/n: this concept is heavily inspired by Janelle Monae's Dirty Cumputer. Which means, I do not take credit of the idea at all, i just thought it would be an interesting context to write my first AU. Hope you like it, please let me know what you think! 

italics mean flashbacks.

you can find the rest of my masterlist here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

They start calling human beings computers, and people started vanishing and with that, the cleaning began. If you were different, you were dirty. If you refused to live the way they dictated, you were dirty. And if you were dirty… it was just only a matter of time until they find you.

No one knew how they did it, one day you’d only disappear without leaving any trace that you were once there.

Y/N felt the cold metal she was laying on before she saw it, her eyes feeling too sensitive to flutter open, despite her tries. She felt how the table started moving, placing her in a vertical position, and that’s when she finally opened her eyes.

A person dressed in a white bodysuit and a gas mask covers their face was in front of her, looking at her in the eye while they placed some sort of helmet on her head. She was too scared and disorientated to protest, so she limited herself to observe how the same person backed off after putting the helmet on her.

She wanted to ask where was she, who and why they took her, but before any sort of noise could leave her mouth, a voice was heard in the room.

“You will repeat after me. Your name is Y/N 57821.” The voice sounded… emotionless. Almost robotic.

“My name is… Y/N 57821.” She repeated, confusion adorning her features.

“I am a dirty computer.” Y/N furrowed. A what?

Despite her confusion and growing desperation, she repeated. “I am a dirty computer.”

“I am ready to be cleaned.”

“I…I” She hesitated.

“I am ready to be cleaned.” The voice said again, forcing her to repeat the words. However, Y/N stayed quiet. “Unfortunately, my dear. Cleaners please initiate the nevermind.” She commanded.

Y/N wasn’t able to see it, but behind the glass on the wall there were two people watching from a monitor, waiting for the order to begin with the cleaning. One of them pushed a button and suddenly there was gas coming out of holes in the wall. Her pulse raised as she tried to move, but failed. Y/N could feel how the gas was entering her nostrils and she began panicking.

The men behind the glass scrolled through what looked like a compilation of memories that only existed in her head, lurking through her memory data until they clicked one.

83 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 293297]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                             NO.

The music coming out from the speakers was loud, and the destination of their ride wasn’t clear yet. What was clear was the tight grip Harry had on Y/N’s hand, occasionally bringing it up to his lips to place little kisses on her knuckles.

She’d giggle every time, allowing herself to close her eyes and enjoy the moment she was living with her lover. Driving down the coast, the breeze of the ocean made her hair fly everywhere and at Harry’s eyes, there’s nothing more beautiful than the woman next to him.

“Have you ever wanted to get… lost?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Harry turned his head towards her for a second before looking back at the road. “Have you?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” She admitted. “But I wouldn’t disappear without telling you.”

“We can always disappear together.”

A big smile formed on her face as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders the best she could considering the angle. Y/N attacked Harry’s face with dozens of little kisses, making him chuckle and try to kiss her back every time her lips would land on his.

“Just me and you, baby.”

“Mmm, I like how that sounds.” He grinned. “Me and you.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Letting go of the steering wheel for a second, Harry cupped his lover’s face and stamped his lips on hers in a passionate kiss.

At plain sight they were just two young souls waiting to spend eternity together, it was them against the world. Forever.

       DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

One single tear rolled down her eye before once again falling unconscious on the cold, metal table. Alone.

Y/N didn’t notice when they carried her outside of the room, getting her into a new one. Two guards stood by the door, protecting it from whoever that wanted to come in, or out.

The door opened and revealed a tall man dressed in a similar white bodysuit she was wearing. He stopped his tracks when he was in front of her, and extended his arm to touch her hand gently.

“Good morning, Y/N.” he tried to wake her up from her slumber but received no response. “Y/N.” he tried again, this time making her open her eyes slowly.

It took her a moment to adjust to the lighting in the room before she turned her head to the voice that was responsible for waking her from her sleep. The man smiled warmly to her, trying to appear as friendly as possible. “My name is Haribo53. I’m here to escort you from the darkness into the light.” He spoke again, pulling from her hand to lift her into a sitting position.

“Harry.” She whispered in disbelief, tears forming in her eyes.

“You won’t be able to move your legs for a while.” He said, turning her towards him. A small frown appears on his face the longer he stared at her, but he tried to shake it off.

“I didn’t… I thought I’d never see you again.” She said, trying to reach for his hand but he turned around, ignoring her words. Harry grabbed what looked like a tablet from the wall, starting to type away. “Did they hurt you?” Her voice was trembling and barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer.

“Is it okay if I call you Y/N?” he asked, once again ignoring her questions.

“What?”

“Is what we have in your file, right?” he explained softly, grabbing a small flashlight. He started exanimating her, and her eyes closed when he pointed the light to her face. Nonetheless, she nodded. “If there’s anything else you’d rather be called, you just let me know.” No matter how much he tried to soften his voice, it still sounded robotic, as if what he was saying was something he was told to repeat rather than something he wanted to say. “I’m here to make your experience sweet as honey.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me, Harry?” her voice broke, feeling hurt.

“As I said, my name is Haribo53 and I don’t know you… at least not yet. But what I do know, is that we are here to get you clean.” Although he was smiling at her, said smile never reached his eyes.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to not cry. She didn’t understand a single thing that was happening right now, and seeing Harry again for the first time in a long time has made her feel so many emotions at once that she wasn’t sure her body would be able to handle it. She wasn’t sure if she could handle having him in front of him and wanting to kiss him when he doesn’t even remember her name.

Harry took her to the room she was in at first, asking her to lay down in the same metal table she was before. And this time she did it on her own because Harry told her to. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down while he put the helmet back on her head. He stepped aside and the same robotic voice sounded loud in the room.

“You will repeat after me.”

“I will repeat after you.”

“Your name is Y/N 57821.” Y/N repeated the words. “I am a dirty computer.” Sighing, she repeated. “I am ready to be cleaned.”

Y/N closed her eyes, afraid of what was going to happen once she repeated those last words. The whole thing felt and seemed surreal and the anxiety started to grow in her. “I am ready to be cleaned.”

“Ready for cleaning.”

“She’s ready for cleaning.” The same two men remained on their seats behind the glass, ready to keep scrolling through Y/N’s collection of memories.

“Which memory exactly?”

“Any memory you see.”

272 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 310620]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                             NO.

Y/N wasn’t sure how her friend convinced her to pierce her nipples, but here they were, entering the shop in the middle of the night after leaving the bar they spent hours drinking at.

“Didn’t read the sign? We’re closed, sweetness.” Both girls turned towards the source of the voice. A black-haired man with numerous tattoos on his arms stood behind them.

“Do you pierce nipples?” Zoey, Y/N’s friend asked, trying to maintain balance by grabbing Y/N’s shoulder.

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you.” he smirked.

“I’ll take care of them, Mitch.” A new voice was heard and a brunette man walked in, turning on the lights. Even in her drunken state, Y/N was sure she’s never seen someone as attractive as him. His curls sat on top of his head, green eyes suddenly looking directly at her. A smirk formed on his face as he noticed her stare. “I’m Harry. Didn’t catch your name, beautiful.”

“Because I haven’t told you.” She smirked back at him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Alright, Y/N. You said you and your friend wanted to get your… nipples?” She nodded. “Your nipples pierced.”

“That’s right. Can you do it?” Y/N asked, feeling more confident with the alcohol running through her system. She bit her lip, waiting patiently for Harry to answer.

“Christ, just do it, H. I’ll handle the friend.”

Harry breathed a laugh as he saw his friend and coworker take Zoey to a different room, hearing how the girl tried to make conversation but resulted in just drunken thoughts and nonsense. “I think you and your friend are a little too drunk to decide to pierce ya nipples, love.”

Y/N could swear her panties were soaked just by hearing the thick British accent he had. The way he called her love sent shivers down her spine, but she shrugged it off, trying to look sure of her decision. “Wouldn’t be the first time you see someone doing something stupid while being drunk.”

They looked at each other for a second, holding eye contact. “You got me there. I still need you to sign some papers, though.”

She try to not stumble too much while walking towards him, signing whatever he told her to, feeling too eager to get this done. Harry led her to a private room, where he told her to take her shirt off and lay down.

He tried to not look as Y/N undressed herself, remaining himself she was intoxicated and wasn’t on her five senses.

Y/N didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that she looked at Harry’s face the entire time, but it actually didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. Sure, the second one hurt like a bitch because she was already expecting it, but looking at him concentrated, slightly poking his tongue out of his mouth, made it all more bearable.

“Would I see you again?” He dared to ask after she paid for her new additions.

“It depends. Will I have a shirt on?” she raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing him.

“Only if I can take it off.”

       DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

42 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 310620]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                             NO.

Today was the day, Y/N and Harry were leaving to start a new life and leave behind the town that has always been too small for their big dreams. Away from the old, boring life and away from her parents who tried to do everything to separate them.

Y/N woke up as soon as the sun came out, too excited to stay in bed, she made her bags and dropped them by the door. She wasn’t sure where they’d be going, but she didn’t care as long as it was with Harry.

She waited in her living room, bouncing her leg up and down due to her nerves. Her parents weren’t supposed to come back until night, but she was still alert in case they decided to change their plans. A part of her felt bad for leaving without saying goodbye, but it was for the best. Y/N didn’t want to be here anymore.

Watching through the window, she saw how Harry’s car parked right in front of her house and she ran towards the door and threw herself at him as soon as she opened the door. “Someone’s excited.” Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “Ready, love?”

“Sooo ready. Let’s leave already.”

They hurried to get her bags in the trunk of the convertible, and Y/N looked back at her house for a moment before returning her gaze to Harry. She took a deep breath before getting into the passenger seat of the car. As he pulled away from the driveway, Harry placed one of his hands on her thigh.

“We just have to stop by the shop and say goodbye to Mitch, babe.” He said.

“Is he going to be okay by himself?”

“Yeah, he’s been wanting to do his own thing for a while now.”

The drive from her house to the tattoo shop wasn’t a long one, and soon they found themselves crossing the door of the building they spent hours and hours in. Mitch was sitting behind the desk on the front, looking through a magazine. He looked up when he heard the bell ring and a big grin appeared on his face when he saw his friends.

“And who do we have here? The lovebirds!”

“Hi, Mitch.” Y/N smiled at him.

“We’re here to say goodbye, mate.” Harry said.

Although Mitch was sad they were leaving, he also couldn’t be happier for his friends. He knew they’d stay in contact, and he could always go visit them wherever they went. The trio hugged, Y/N being in the middle of them. She has grown pretty close to the long-haired man ever since she started dating Harry, which was great considering how closed off Mitch could be.

“I hate to admit it but I’m going to miss you two.”

“You need to visit us soon.”

“I will, please stay out of trouble." Mitch chuckled.

All of a sudden, the windows shattered into a million pieces, making a thunderous noise. They dropped to the floor, trying to shield themselves from the glass.

"What the hell is happening?!" Y/N exclaimed out of desperation. Her hair had pieces of crystal and there was a small cut on Mitch's left cheek. "Is someone coming?"

"I think so. Dammit." Harry cursed under his breath. "Mitch, take Y/N to the back of the store."

"No!" She interjected rapidly. "Harry, don't."

"Fuck, just do it, baby." Breathing through his nose, Harry got up from the floor. "I'll see you there, I promise."

Mitch pulled from Y/N, having to almost carry her to the back of the store to hide from whoever was coming. Tears rolled down her eyes as they hide behind some boxes, trying to keep it quiet but fearing for Harry. Mitch held Y/N in his arms to keep her from running.

It sounded like there was a fight out there, things were thrown making all kinds of noises.

"Let go of me!" Harry yelled when two different men grabbed him from the arms, immobilizing him. They started to carry him out of the shop, and Y/N started to try to free herself from Mitch's hold. "Where the fuck are you taking me?"

"Y/N, stop." He tried. "For fuck's sake, stop it."

"Harry's in trouble! Mitch, we have to help."

"You're going to get yourself hurt if you go out."

"I can't leave him."

With a sudden move, she freed herself from Mitch and ran to the front of the shop again. She was met with all kinds of broken objects and no sight of Harry.

"He's gone. They took him."

       DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                 NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

They called this place "The House of the New Dawn". This place where they drained us of our dirt and all the things that made us special, and just when you thought you could remember something, just when you thought you could see the past clearly... They would hit you with nevermind.

This gas would take over and then you were lost... sleeping. And you didn't remember anything at all.

Y/N had lost track of how many days had passed since her arrival, the only thing she'd remember was the trip from her room to the chamber where they'd put her to sleep to erase her memories and everything that made her... her.

They would erase everything they came across with. From the happiest memories she treasured the most to the ones she once would have given anything to forget.

She'd no longer protest, she'd no longer put on a fight. She'd see how Harry treated her like a stranger, his touch suddenly feeling colder and unfamiliar as time went by. Y/N would try to force her brain to remember, to remember she was a person, that what they were doing to her was not cleaning her. But every day it became harder, and harder... and she gave up.

63 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 972942]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                             NO.

"Where were you last night?" Y/N's father, Jonathan, grabbed her by her arm, stopping her from going upstairs without talking to him first.

"I told you I'd be out."

"Were you with that man again? Don't lie to me, Y/N." He said sternly.

"His name is Harry, and yes." Y/N didn't see any point at lying, they lived in a small town and sooner or later her father would know the truth.

"I have told you, I do not trust him."

"Well, I do." She crossed her arms across her chest, challenging him.

"You can't trust someone who goes out looking like that."

"Like what? A normal person?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Just because he has tattoos it means he's a criminal, you know?"

"People like him will only bring trouble to your life. Do you think he loves you? He'll only use you, and I will now allow that."

"This would be shocking to you, but he does love me. And guess what?! I do too!" She got out of his hold.

"You will not see him again, I forbid it!"

"You can't do that!"

"For as long as you live under my roof, you'll live under my orders. And believe me when I say you will not see him again."

"I guess I'll fucking leave then!"

She ran upstairs and towards her bedroom, hearing how her father called her full name repeatedly, growing angrier each time. Y/N couldn't understand why he hated Harry so much, why he was so against the idea of her being happy with him. In her sight, there was anything wrong with him. Harry was sweet, caring, attentive. He was everything anyone would want as a partner, and she didn't care if her dad didn't like him. She loved Harry, and she planned on staying with him for the rest of her life.

       DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

173 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 862037]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                              NO.

"Can I color your tattoos?"

"All of them?" He chucked.

"Please?" She gave him her best puppy eyes.

"Be my guest, babe."

Harry laid back on the bed and put his hands under his head, adoring the view he had. Y/N was straddling his waist, trying to get a better angle of his butterfly tattoo. She'd ofter place little kisses on his belly, sending shivers down his spine. He smiled when Y/N poked her tongue out of her mouth, an habit she's learned from him.

"You're so pretty." Harry let out after a while of being in complete silence.

"So are you." She looked up and smiled at him. He thought his heart would explode from all the love and adoration he was feeling right now. Wearing nothing but his shirt, her messy hair everywhere, not a single drop of makeup on her face. She looked like an absolute angel.

"Have you considered having one?" He asked. "A tattoo, I mean."

"Sometimes, but I'm kinda afraid of needles." Her words made Harry giggle.

"Babe, you got your nipples pierced. Kinda hard to believe you're afraid of them." He teased her.

"Don't be mean, I was drunk. I don't think I would have the balls to do it sober."

"What if I do it?" He suggested. "It could be something small, in a place your folks wouldn't see."

"I don't know..."

"Then you can make one for me."

"Are you kidding?" She put her hands on his chest, forgetting the markers she was using to color his tattoos. He shocks his head, smiling widely at her. "I've never done that before."

"I'll teach you. I'll be fun, babe."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You won't, I trust you."

And that's how they ended up sitting in Harry's office, deciding their future tattoos together. Y/N decided to get Harry's name on her wrist in braille language, she could always wear some bracelets to hide it. She sat on Harry's left thigh, wanting to be as close as possible to him. She watched the process, feeling curious about the way the ink permanently entered her body. And it excited the thought of Harry's name being plastered on her body.

"What do you think? Do you like it?" He asked as he wiped her wrist carefully. She observed the tattoo with a dreamy smile on her face, it was simple but beautiful. The dots wouldn't mean anything to any other person, but it was okay as long as she knew what it meant.

"I love it, H. Thank you."

"You're welcome, love. Now, it's your turn." He offered his equipment, kissing her cheek in reassurance. "I'll guide you, it's fine."

Harry has chosen Y/N's name as well, but not in braille. He wanted it on his chest, right where his heart was. She had to turn on straddle his hips, trying to get comfortable. "I will like I'll stab you."

"Don't be a baby, just do it."

Slowly but surely, Y/N got his tattoo done. She had to stop her hand from shaking a little, but Harry didn't care if it was a little messy. It was her handwriting after all, and it was made by her. He'd never hate anything made by her.

"I love you." He whispered, hopelessly in love.

        DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                   NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

Y/N was taken back to her room, where she spent what it felt like hours staring at the wall in front of her. She felt drained as if she didn't have any energy left.

She heard the door open behind her and soon enough Harry was in front of her, getting the bracelets they had put on her wrists off. He gently lifted the sleeve of her bodysuit, furrowing when he saw the dots on her wrist. Harry looked up at her in confusion, but Y/N kept her head down.

"They're taking everything away from me." She mumbled. "I don't even remember how we met anymore." Her voice broke. "I'm not sure if any of this actually happened."

Harry let go of her wrist and sat down next to her, taking a deep breath.

"Listen, thinking will only make it harder. It's best if you just... enjoy the process." he looked at her again. "Accept it. People used to work so hard to be free. But we're lucky here. All we have to do is forget."

"But I don't want to forget you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, a tear rolling down her eye.

They looked at each other's eyes before Harry finally spoke. "You don't have a choice."

He got up and exited the room, once again leaving her alone with her thoughts. Or what was left of them.

A woman dressed in a white long-sleeved dress was walking down the hallway, and Harry was quick to stop her way when he saw her.

"Mother Victoria? May I speak with you for a minute?"

"I hope this is important." She responded.

"It's about Y/N 57821."

"Go on." She said, continuing her way but with Harry following her this time.

"It's as if she remembers me. Really knows me. She tells me things about myself." A very small smile formed on his face. "About where I'm from. She says my name was Harry. And I made tattoos, played the guitar. And uh... she says that we were in love." He breathed a laugh.

"That's enough." She cut him off. "You know that's impossible. A dirty mind will do anything to survive. Right now she's dirty, tomorrow after the walk she'll be clean." She smiled. "And if she's lucky in a few days she'll be a torch just like you." She paused. "And we'll have all this nonsense behind us."

She kept walking, leaving him alone in the hallway. "Yes, mother."

Day by day, they kept erasing Y/N's memories. It all stopped to make sense in her head, the little pieces she held onto were falling apart. The holes in her mind were too big, too deep.

Harry would seat next to her on the bed, caressing the tattoo in her wrist, as if he was trying to make it make sense to him. As if he was trying to remember. His breathing started to raise, a permanent frown on his face.

"You remember..." She muttered.

He offered her the tiniest smile, shaking his head. "I'm sorry." His eyes were filled with tears, and so were hers. "It's too late."

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 19 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Was hoping to come home to Cale having poured a me a glass of wine ready to celebrate my externship (and me surviving the longest day of my week)....sadly that’s just not reality and this is the only Cale I’ve got so...it’ll just have to do I suppose. 

Warnings: moderate angst, internet trolls.

Word Count: 2,443

~~~~~

You were in the middle of a house showing when your phone started buzzing incessantly. Not wanting to seem unprofessional, you ignored it as you talked with your clients about the features of the house before sending them to explore on their own for a few minutes. 

Checking your phone you saw that you had missed three calls from Laura. There was no reason for her to be calling you repeatedly unless something was wrong and you quickly called her back, your heart pounding. 

“Hey mom I’m in the middle of a showing, what’s up?” 

“Have you heard from Cale today?” She asked.

“Not since first thing this morning…” You replied, anxiety growing. “Mom what’s going on?” 

“Cale’s not answering his phone. We don’t know where he’s at.” You could hear Gary in the background as the two of them rambled back and forth. “Y/N...there are some pretty nasty rumors online about him…” 

Your heart plummeted to the ground and your stomach twisted violently. 

“Send me screenshots?” You pleaded. After just a minute or two, images flooded your phone that made you want to physically vomit. 

Guess even a Calder trophy winner can be a deadbeat dad. 

He’s on vacation while she’s waitressing...classy move there Cale. 

Guess he’s not so perfect after all is he? #quinnshouldhavewonthecalder

Hearing the footsteps of your clients, you pocketed your phone attempting to mask all of the emotions rushing through your mind. After chatting with them about the house, you moved to leave and though you had planned to take them to see two more, your heart just wasn’t in it. Explaining that a family emergency had just popped up, you promised them you would reschedule as soon as possible before sliding into your car. 

Your attempt to get ahold of Cale went straight to voicemail and you groaned just wishing he would pick up. Opening first instagram and then twitter you realized just what had started it all. The avs had posted a summer update about Cale with a few pictures from Iceland that he must have sent their pr department. The top reply on twitter linked an instagram post from Sara’s page where she was obviously pregnant and wearing a waitressing uniform. Her vague status read ‘working for that dough since my baby daddy is useless’ You’d barely looked at all and you were already furious and devastated, you couldn’t even imagine how Cale was feeling. 

Driving home, you called your favorite coworker pleading with her to take what appointments of yours today she could before calling the rest to reschedule. With your work commitments being taken care of, your plan was to go home and change before trying to find Cale. The moment you pulled in your driveway, however, you felt your heart settle because that was definitely Cale’s car. Dialing Laura’s number again you shut your car door quietly, not sure what state you’d find Cale in on the other side of your front door. 

“Hey mom...his car is here. I don’t know what I’m about to find but you know I’ll do everything I can…” Laura insisted that you could call right back if there was anything you needed and after hanging up with her, you slipped your key into the lock, pushing your way inside. 

The house was quiet and after toeing off your shoes, you padded down the hall in search of your boyfriend. The sight that met you as you reached your bedroom door broke your heart. Cale was curled up on your bed, his shoulders shaking with sobs. 

Crawling in beside him, not caring if your dress got rumpled, you pulled his head to your chest, cradling his large frame as best you could. 

“I’m here...I got you.” You whispered, one hand scratching gently over his scalp while the other ran up and down his back. Though Cale buried his head against you, he didn’t react otherwise and you felt his tears gathering against your skin. “What can I do Cale?” You whispered eventually, hating the helpless feeling this situation had left you with. 

The silence of Cale’s response made you swallow hard. You wanted to scream from the rooftops about how people were making false assumptions, how Cale was the victim in this not his ex, how even if they were right it was none of their fucking business in the first place. But you knew it would only make things worse. The only real option was to let things die down on their own. You knew the truth, Cale’s family knew the truth, your family knew the truth, Cale’s teammates knew the truth. What anyone else thought really didn’t matter but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

When Cale finally cried himself to sleep in your arms, you continued to hold him for a few minutes before you finally pulled yourself from bed. Changing clothes, you grabbed your phone and stepped out to the kitchen for a glass of water, dialing Laura again as you leaned against the kitchen counter. 

“How is he?” She asked immediately.��

“He’s asleep now. Finally cried himself out.” You mumbled. “He hasn’t said a word mom. It’s obvious he’s devastated, but I don’t know what to do. How do I fix this?” 

“You can’t.” She admitted sadly. “Just be there for him. That’s all you can do. It may not feel like much but I’m sure he appreciates it. I appreciate it. I’m glad he’s not alone. That if he didn’t feel comfortable coming home that he felt comfortable enough to go to your home. He’s safe and you can get through this together, we can all get through this together.” 

“Why do people have to be so mean?” You vented, just frustrated with all of it. 

“I can’t answer that. But don’t let this rock your relationship, that would only be giving these people what they want.” She insisted. 

“I’m not going anywhere mom. Cale is stuck with me.” Your words made Laura laugh and you sighed softly. 

“I’m sure he’s so upset about that.” She teased. “My son is absolutely gone for you. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.” 

“I don’t know mom…” You grinned shaking your head. “Makes me wonder what else he got away with that you don’t know about.” You joked. 

“Not funny Y/N.” She lightly chastised. Taking another sip of water you heard the buzz of a phone that wasn’t yours and you followed the sound, finding Cale’s phone with his keys at the front entry. 

“Hey mom...I’m gonna let you go. I don’t want to leave Cale alone too long even if he’s sleeping.” You said, tucking your phone against your ear as you flipped Cale’s over seeing strings of notifications flash across the screen. 

“Sounds good dear. Love you. Let us know if you need anything.” 

“Will do...love you too mom.” 

You didn’t want to invade Cale’s privacy too much but even a quick glance at his phone told you that his teammates were worried about him. Unlocking his phone with the code you’d memorized just a few days into vacation, you opened his group chat and started typing a message. 

Hey guys, it’s Y/N...I haven’t read more than the 1 or 2 messages that flashed across the notifications screen because I don’t want to overstep. Just thought you guys should know that Cale really isn’t in a mindset to look at his phone. He’s not ignoring you...I’m sure he’ll get back to you guys soon...he just needs some time to process. If you have any urgent concerns my cell number is (587) 122- 3456. 

Before you could talk yourself out of the message, questioning if even that was too intrusive, you pressed send, dropping Cale’s phone back with his car keys. It didn’t take more than a minute for your phone to ring and though you hesitated, answering revealed the voice of Gabe Landeskog. 

“Y/N? This is Gabe.” He greeted. 

“Hey Gabe.” You whispered, moving over toward the couch so that you were a little bit farther away from the open bedroom door. 

“How is he?” The question made you sigh, your head falling back against the couch. 

“Not so good.” You admitted. “He’s asleep right now...hopefully his dreams provide him some peace.” 

“And how are you?” He followed up, not bothering to comment on Cale’s status any further.

“Heartbroken. Angry. Helpless. Take your pick.” You groaned. “There’s nothing I can do but be here and it’s frustrating.” 

“Being there is probably more significant than you realize Y/N. Cale is a very private person and if he trusts you that’s not nothing.” As Gabe spoke you realized that even though you’d told your parents about your relationship, Cale must not have told anyone else yet. 

“I know it’s not. I just…I want to fix it. And I know I can’t. I know we just have to wait and let this die out. But in the meantime I have to watch this tear him apart. It’s hard.” Gabe hummed in acknowledgement, a slightly uncomfortable silence filling the air for a moment before he spoke again. 

“All the guys have his back...your back if you guys need anything. I’ll try and get them to back off a little so he’s not overwhelmed when he’s ready to talk. And I’m sure Cale will appreciate you reaching out to us on his behalf. I know the guys are relieved to know he’s being taken care of.”

“Thanks.” You breathed, still thrown by everything that had happened today. 

“Well I’ll let you go. And Y/N... I’ll have Mel add your number to the Better Halves chat...glad you guys figured it out.” Gabe was just a little too intuitive and you shook your head as you ended the call. 

Cale was still asleep when you crawled back into bed beside him, your hands rubbing soothingly along his skin again. With your brain focused on what you could possibly do to make things better, you missed Cale starting to stir, his blue eyes droopy as he peered over at you. 

“I’m sorry…” The sound of his voice made you jump and when you looked over at him, you saw the distraught expression remained on his face. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” As he spoke he shifted to sit up, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Moving alongside him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling his body back against yours. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for Cale. You did nothing wrong. This is not on you. This is on the idiots who think they know what they’re talking about when they don’t even have the most basic of their facts straight.” Cale flinched just slightly, but you felt it, your heart picking up speed. 

“I still caused you pain. I’m not supposed to do that.” Something told you that the next words to come out of your mouth were possibly the most important words spoken in your relationship...more important than ‘I love you’ had been. 

“Cale Douglas Makar…” You declared, refusing to let him get up from the bed as you shuffled to stand in front of him. “You listen to me and you listen to me well. You are not the cause of my pain. I hurt because you hurt. The people that hurt you are the ones that hurt me...not you.” Forcing Cale’s cheeks up to look at you, you brushed your thumbs along his jaw. 

“Never apologize for ‘dragging me into’ something. We are partners, we are equals. You cannot carry the emotional burden of this relationship alone. And lately you’ve been doing more work in that regard than you should. So DO NOT apologize. It’s my turn to carry the weight. Let me. Let me support you like you’ve supported me. Let me care for you like you care for me. Maybe I can’t physically carry you out of a lava tube...but I can lift you up emotionally, mentally...I can give you the strength to get through this. You are not alone. You have me. And I’m strong enough to handle this even though it upsets me. Use me. Please. Don’t push me away because you think you have to protect me and handle this on your own.” 

Cale’s tears dripped along your fingertips and you leaned forward pulling his body into yours. 

“We’re gonna get through this Cale...it’ll all blow over. And when it does it’ll just prove to the rest of the world what we already know. That you’re incredible. And we’re unshakable. So whatever you need. I’m here. All you have to do is say the word.” 

“I love you.” Cale’s words were muffled by your clothing, but you heard him loud and clear. 

“I love you too. Always will.” You assured him, nails scraping against his scalp again. Staying like that until his breathing steadied, you dipped down to kiss him gently but deeply. 

“C’mon...let’s order a bunch of junk food, put some stupid comedy on tv and just relax.” You directed. “Though you should probably call mom first. She’s a little concerned and I know hearing your voice would make a big difference.” 

When he nodded, you stepped back, though you didn’t make it far before Cale was wrapped around you again. If he needed to be a koala tonight, you were perfectly okay with that. 

“Do you wanna use my phone so you don’t have to look at yours?” You asked softly. “I did jump into your team group chat to tell the boys to back off a little so you shouldn’t have as many notifications but you can use mine if you aren’t ready to deal with any of that.” 

Cale didn’t seem at all fazed that you had used his phone but he willingly accepted yours, calling his mom. You’d placed an order for food on your laptop while they talked and upon the end of that conversation, you settled in on the couch for the night, only moving for food or drinks. As another episode of the sitcom Cale had picked ended, you looked down at him snoring softly, his head on your chest. 

Today had been exhausting...this week had been exhausting, but you’d dealt with it together and now Cale knew that he didn’t have to bear the weight of the world by himself. You were bound to have bad days every now and then, but together you could get through so much more than either of you could separately. 

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Five | Snowy

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Here's an early update this week to make up for last week's missed update (due to finals). 

As a result, expect the usual update on Saturday, as well!

Also, there’s now a Tag List at the bottom of this chapter -- Feel free to message me or comment if you'd like to be included on the list!

• • •

"...So, did you go to the doctor?"

"Yes, dear."

"And what did she say?"

"It's possible I have anemia or something because of malnutrition."

"What's anemia?"

"That just means I don't have enough blood to stay active and do things as I usually do."

"And why did that happen? You've always made us eat healthy!"

"Frisk, honey…" You sigh and place a hand over your forehead, massaging the ache away. "I get that you're worried, but I need a moment to concentrate. The food'll burn if I keep getting distracted."

"Let me help you, then!"

"Not today. You should do your homework now so I can check it later."

"Why? I can help you if you're busy. And Toriel can help me with that later anyway!"

Needing patience, you stop your work on the stew and let out another breath, longer yet quieter this time. Then, you take a sip of water and set the cup aside to wash for later. "You're not going to see any more of your monster friends until I can at least get to know some of them better." You turn off the stove and let the stew rest while you do the same. "Toriel's an exception, yes. But that doesn't mean I'll allow you to visit her place if people like Sans are going to be there, too."

"But he helps me with science!"

"I'll take care of that, then."

"But you're busy!"

"I can make time."

"But isn't it okay if Toriel's gonna be there with him?"

"If it was, I wouldn't be telling you about this in the first place."

Frisk huffs and pouts, arms crossing as they look away from you. "It's not like he's a ticking time bomb anyway. He… He's not gonna hurt me!"

"How can you be so sure? Your (dad/other dad) left us out of the blue."

"I don't care about him, and he's not my dad anymore! Y- You shouldn't call him that, and you should stop comparing other people with him!"

"Don't talk like that. You know that's not-"

"It's true!" Their words almost come off in a shriek and tears stain their face. "He- He doesn't care about me anymore, so I won't care about him, either. It's his fault why you had to go to the doctor in the first place!" 

You stay quiet and watch as they blink through the tears, sniffling some of them back. Sensing they need a break from your gaze, you turn back to the stove and focus on continuing with the meal.

"I… I was okay with it the first week, but when I noticed how much better we've been doing just with Toriel alone, I- I got really, really mad at him! He doesn't care about us anymore, and he left us even before I ran away. If he wants to show he cares, then… Then he has to do something else besides sending you dumb What'sUp messages all the time."

You stop what you're doing again and catch the salt shaker just as it's about to fall into the pot, stew still resting and waiting for you to finish with flavouring it. Thankfully, the safety lock keeps it from making a mess, so you place it back where it was and thank the Heavens you don't have to salvage the food from being oversalted. When you recover, you stop looking at the pot to meet with Frisk's eyes, directing your widened ones at them.

"How do you know that?"

"It's obvious! Your face always gets all scrunched up and grumpy, and the ringtone's different to all the others."

"And what if it's someone else?'

"You don't text anyone else besides auntie and Sans sometimes!"

Their words hit you like a punch to the gut. 

Having your social life summarized so quickly almost makes you wince, and you feel the urge to ground them simply for those words alone, rather than for their earlier conduct regarding how they talked about Jerry. "I'm afraid I'll have to take your own phone away if you keep doing this. I don't know how you even figured all that stuff out, but you know it's not good to sneak up on things like this. You should ask me if you're curious, dear. And... And not just take a look at those messages whenever I'm not around."

"I haven't snooped around! The messages would show they're read, but all the stuff Jerry's sent you's still unread."

You smile and choose not to mention on how they continue to corner themselves the longer they speak, though you do acknowledge their awareness over small details, taking advantage of that by asking, "So that means you've read auntie and Sans's texts?"

They nod, unhesitating. "I know auntie's been telling you to get in touch with friends again. And you have a tour date with Sans this weekend!"

"Tour date where?"

"The Underground!" 

"And besides those two people, who's the last person I texted, and how long ago was it?"

Frisk stays quiet for a while this time, but it's made clear they're only seeking that information from their memory rather than realizing how far they've dug themselves into a hole. "Your coworker was last month, and one of your friends was two months ago." Their response is confident, although it doesn't take longer than a few seconds of silence between you for them to notice their mistakes. You don't say anything and stare at them with squinted eyes and an equally humoured grin, waiting.  "Um…" They can only stare with wide eyes; their body stays still while their mind processes just what exact mistakes were made. "I…"

"Go shower and dress up, dear," you say, biting back your smile. "We'll eat first before we go, and we can talk on the way there."

"To Toriel's place?"

You nod. "It's about time I met her in person rather than calls. And frankly, it's been… really irresponsible of me to let you continue visiting her despite me not being aware of who she is in person. I only allowed it because Serif was there, but after learning about what he did, I really don't want you near him."

"But you guys are going on a date this weekend!"

"If you're smart enough to know opening a message shows you've read it, then I'm sure you know that's not what that word means in that context."

"...What's context?"

"I won't keep playing your game, dear."

"But what if I really don't know what it means?"

"Then you can find it in a dictionary, or you can ask your tutors about it."

"You're being mean!"

"And you're being nosy."

Frisk frowns and crosses their arms. They attempt an angered expression, though it results in a faltering grimace as they try not to let their sadness known. Their lips stay pressed close together and their body shakes, all signs of them wanting to cry their feelings out. Still, they push through and regain some calm through a sigh. "I…" Their tone is just as reluctant as their posture, so you don't pressure and stay quiet. "I'm sorry, (mom/dad)." They let their arms loosen and stare up at you with stern eyes. "I was just worried about you. I… I didn't mean to look through your stuff. And I… I didn't mean to make you angry. I-"

"I'm not angry." You place a hand over their head and smile, tickling the back of their ear and gaining a smile back from them. "But what you did really wasn't right." You pause and take a breath, already weak and dizzied despite it still being one in the afternoon. "And even though there're times where you have to go against the rules, this isn't one of them. You could've gotten into trouble if it was a stranger or someone else, or you could've learned something the wrong way. If you need to know something, you should ask me directly, not just play spy about it. I won't know what's bothering you if you keep hiding it from me and getting your answers like this. Alright?"

Frisk responds with a hug rather than words. Their hold is tight, and they nearly cling onto you, face pressing against your torso as they cry against it. "I'm sorry," they whisper through their sniffles and hiccups, holding on tighter. "I- I… Could you tell me what's making you sad next time, then?"

"Of course, honey." You place a hand against the back of their head and brush your fingers through their hair. "...I should've done that sooner, too." You smile when they let go and meet with their eyes, these red and watery from the recent cry. "Your hair's getting longer," you add, ruffling it up. "Do you wanna cut it, or do you like it this way?"

"I like it this way!" Their words are as bright as their smile, and another look at them reveals a weight's been lifted off their shoulders. "Should I go do my homework now? I wanna stay with you today."

"Sure," you reply, letting your smile grow. "Do what you already know. I'll be there in a few to help you out."

"Thanks, (mom/dad)!"

With that, they stand on their tiptoes and kiss your cheek. Then, they run off to their room, leaving you to finish with the stew.

 • • •

Frisk's return equals to having a cramped calendar, where every single day's marked down with a sticker and a note to remind you over what you have to do.

Still, it doesn't erase the fact you need time for yourself, so you take up Frisk's concern over your health and happiness as advice for you to take better care of yourself. You start by stretching after an hour long nap, drinking some water, and opening up the envelope the two skeleton brothers had given you. Anticipation arrives with the reminder of what Papyrus hinted at about its contents. You tear it open, pull out the first thing you touch, and continue doing so until there's nothing left to take out and place on your nightstand. You then look at all the items laid out and notice that -- besides the business card Papyrus mentioned -- all other items are what he'd informed were from his brother.

Besides Alphys's contact information, there's...

What looks like a bunny-shaped notepad.

Two admission tickets.

A folded paper with some cards stuck to it.

And, as you feared, money.

If Papyrus mentioned only about Alphys's contact information being there, then it's a likelihood to assume the rest is from his older brother.

You take the notepad first and open it to see the first page has already been filled out, and it reads:

"so, uh… hey."

"i'm not too good at writin' letters, but i thought this notepad would be useful now that you're gonna keep a contact list of all the monsters frisk made friends with. i took the liberty of puttin' in the first ten i could think of. start with those first, and don't push yourself too hard."

The fourth and second to last item from the monster is what looks like an agreement letter and a pair of travel visas attached to it. You squint at the tiny lettering and adjust your glasses to begin with the reading.

"With the approval of former Royal Sentry and Judge, Comic Sans Serif, I hereby allow for (miss/mister) (Y/N) (L/N) to traverse the Underground with him by their side. It is important to note these tickets will expire in three days after their initial use, and that another permit would need to be requested if the user so requires to visit the Underground again. I would also like to let known that it was not in my decision to have all these restrictions made, but it has been requested by the government that we restrict access to the Underground until they determine it is safe for humankind to visit. These visas have been given for the sole sake of having both of Frisk's parents well-informed over their child's journey, and said adults' safety should be provided by mister Serif. Any danger they face at the Underground shall be blamed on him for his inability to keep up with the requirements of this agreement, which include providing (miss/mister) (L/N) specifically with both protection and knowledge alike. A second permit has been provided in case that Frisk's other parent decides to accept the offer, as well. – Asgore Dreemurr."

Below all that is a note written with a soft shade of pencil graphite, allowing you to erase it after reading.

"take care, pal."

Ignoring the smile on your face, you proceed to the third item: two admission tickets for what's titled as 'A Spectacular Drama by Mettaton'. Attached to one of them is a second sticky note along with a shorter memo written down on it. It makes sense as to why the agreement letter had a 'take care' on it, given it's the last item you'd pulled out besides the money. Had you checked them all in that order, that last memo would've been a closing of sorts. 

"there's gonna be a big show in two months. dunno if you and your kid celebrate the holiday, but frisk seemed to like snowdin, so i figured they'd also like seeing a whole bunch of events related to that. it says 'drama' only, but that's just mettaton highlightin' what he finds the most important."

"tell me when the time comes if you're up for it. i can help you get to know the guy better before then."

The money's the only thing left and the only one that leaves questions behind. You take the batch and count in hopes of finding some answers, though the longer you do that, the stranger it gets.

20…

40…

60…

80…

100…

That pattern repeats for two more times, making it three-hundred in total. 

Just as you wonder why you've been handed such a large amount, you have the urge to look at yourself in the coffee table's reflection to see you're not exactly looking any better than before.

Both him and his brother had noticed that. It's almost been two weeks, and yet you've still the same tired look to your face. Constant lost hours of sleep, excessive stress, and practicing a poor diet had left almost irreparable damage on your body and mind alike, enough for even non-human people to notice the change. 

All things considered though, how were you supposed to hate an enemy when they acted like this?

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Happy Holidays!

I know times are tougher than ever, but stay strong and remember to practice social distancing if you're making small get-togethers with family/those in your same household, apartment, or campus.

Take care, and stay safe. :-)

(Holiday special incoming soon enough!!)

Tag List

@the-simp-express

(This is a temporary format until I learn more about Tag Lists! I'm a Tumblr noob, lol.)

[singtotheskiies]

a single word // bruce banner x reader

request: Nothing would make me happier than a Bruce Banner X reader. He doesn't get nearly as much love as he deserves and he is adorable and smart and one of the many loves of my life. If you can make it a soulmate AU it would be even better and you would be my very bestest friend. But you don't have to write this if you don't want to.

summary: your soulmate’s emotions are written on your forearm. sometimes it’s only a single word—anger—and a news feed of New York being destroyed starts you on a mission to find him.

words: 2301

warnings: slight angst, but otherwise lotsa fluff:)))

a/n: i’m so sorry for the delay in writing! i was sick for a few days and found it really difficult to write. for that reason, this imagine may not flow as well or have as detailed writing as others, but i still hope it’s enjoyable!!

✖️✖️✖️

Your soulmate’s emotions were—complicated, to say the least.

Most people had multiple words on their arm based on what their soulmate was feeling at the moment—it wasn’t uncommon to see entire forearm-lengths of words like curious and fearful and hopeful. Sometimes your arm had a normal, long list like that, but over the past few years, things had begun to change.

Sometimes, the writing on your arm would fade away to one word—ANGER.

It was menacing—red and in all caps. Sometimes it would only last a few seconds, your arm flickering from ANGER to fear or attempted calm. Sometimes it stayed for hours before fading to confusion and regret and self-hatred. Your heart went out to your soulmate, mourning their seeming lack of stability. Sure, it was more interesting than a typical soulmate bond, but it seemed as if they had a hard time dealing with life and controlling their emotions. You hoped that if you ever met them, you’d be able to provide a much-needed constant of calm.

For your whole life, though, you were left clueless as to who it could possibly be. Someone who had such blindingly intense emotions was surely one of a kind—but no hints presented themselves until the attack on New York.

You were working like any other day when your coworker suddenly barged in, babbling about something horrific and otherworldly that was happening on the East Coast. Standing up in alarm (and, quite frankly, slight disbelief), you grabbed your phone and quickly opened your news app only to have your friend’s story confirmed. You clicked on a news feed, watching in utter shock as entire city blocks were torn down by what looked like otherworldly spaceships. They twisted through the air grotesquely, resembling some sort of worm or insect. Clearly, they were not from Earth.

A reporter was attempting to interview a shaken citizen—a young woman who seemed to be on the point of crying. The reporter wasn’t having much success, as the young lady’s voice was too choked with tears to get much out. However, after several painful moments, the woman’s face changed as she looked up. The camera pivoted wildly to show a small group of individuals making their way purposefully down the street. As it zoomed in, you got a closer look—the people looked intimidating and like they had a purpose.

All except one. The camera was slightly fuzzy and the chaos going on around it didn’t help, but you could tell a few details about this odd one out. He looked to be shorter than many of the others, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and a look of terrified confusion. He was unarmed with any weapon or armor, dressed only in work clothes. Your arm itched and burned as you looked at him, and you looked down at it in surprise.

Unsure, afraid, determined, disbelieving.

“No way,” you breathed, and your friend looked at you sideways.

“I know! Who are these people? I have no clue what’s going on anymore.” You didn’t have the energy to tell her that you were most stunned by the fact that the seemingly unarmed man may very well be the soulmate you had waited your whole life to meet. Although you did agree with her that you wanted to know who he was.

Before you could get a better look at the group of people, your maybe-soulmate spoke to one of the others and turned around to fight. However, as he did, he grew several feet taller, huge new muscles bunching together as his shirt ripped away to reveal—green skin? You couldn’t believe your eyes, staring at the screen in almost catatonic shock. Your arm started stinging again, and as you looked down at it, it shifted into that all-too-familiar word: ANGER.

“I have to go home,” you told your friend, packing up your things in a rush.

“Are you okay?” she asked you.

“Don’t feel well,” you said. Several other people were heading for the doors. You figured a disaster of this scale would cause more than a few changes in schedule.

Getting home in record time, you turned on your television and sat, not even bothering to toe off your shoes. You watched in utter astonishment as New York continued to be trashed by an otherworldly army. The news feeds gave as many updates on the team attempting to fight the aliens off as they could. Your eyes were peeled for any flashes of green, and you were occasionally rewarded with a few seconds of whoever-he-was fighting off creatures singlehandedly. Was this beast of a man the same timid person who had walked with the other fighters at the beginning? Maybe he was possessed or something. Hopefully he wouldn’t die fending off the alien attackers—possibly finding your soulmate and then having them ripped away from you on the same day was something you’d prefer not to happen.

After hours of battle, all the attackers had been taken out and the cube of energy—the Tesseract, it was called—had been taken to a government facility. You hadn’t seen any more of your potential soulmate, but the words on your arm had gone back to small black words: exhausted, relieved, frightened. He was still alive, thank goodness, but your only hope of finding out who he was was through news of some sort, so you kept your television on and scrolled through news websites as you ate dinner. After an hour or two, you began to feel a little hopeless—you couldn’t find anywhere that was listing the names of the group who had fought back—the Avengers, as they were being called. Eventually, you gave up and decided to call it a night. Maybe you’d find out more in the morning.

To your surprise (and relief) there was an article titled “Just Who Are the Avengers?” that seemed to list a few names. It was scant information (unsurprising, since they seemed to be spies or government workers of some sort), but it was something. The name that you were looking for seemed to be Bruce Banner—the Incredible Hulk. You felt a surge of adrenaline as you typed his name into your phone, pulling up multiple sources about your potential soulmate.

You discovered that he was a top scientist, a man who had underwent a freak gamma radiation accident that caused him to turn into the Hulk when he didn’t have control over his emotions. He now worked to understand radiation as well as countless other fields of study—the man had seven PhDs! He seemed to be quite the extraordinary person, and the pictures available of him painted him out to be quite the handsome man as well.

You looked down at your arm and sighed. Terror and hopelessness. Judging by the blue ink, he must be having a nightmare. You set your jaw and resolutely looked for some way to contact him. Yes, he had just saved America, but you had a feeling he needed some actual good things in his life. You wanted to help if it were at all possible.

The best you could do was find an email address, so you started a draft and stared at your screen wondering out loud what to say.

“Hi, I’m your soulmate—probably. Saw you turn into a big green guy on TV—that’s something else! No, that’s stupid. Uh—you seem to have a lot of trauma going on, maybe I could hel—no, I’m not his therapist. C’mon, think!”

You eventually settled on a message that stated your awareness of who he was, an admiration for how bravely he had fought, and the possibility that you may be each other’s soulmates. Breathing deeply, you sent the message and left your laptop open for easy refreshing.

It took him almost 36 anxiety-ridden hours to respond back, but his response made you smile.

Dear (Y/N),

I was so surprised to hear from you that I nearly dropped my phone—in a good way, of course. I appreciate your compliments, and your description of what happens on your arm would certainly be a good match for me. You seem to be a wonderful person, and while I would love to meet you right away, the rest of the team and I have a few post-battle things we need to take care of. Does coffee about a week from now sound good? Let me know, and we can work out the details.

Sincerely, Bruce

You emailed him back saying that coffee sounded wonderful, including your phone number because texting would be a little easier, you thought. He texted you about a half hour later, giving you details to a coffee place that was far enough away from downtown to be safe. Can’t wait to see you there, he said, and you grinned as you sent back a similar message.

Putting your phone down on your kitchen table, you hummed in satisfaction—finally, after waiting for years and years, you were meeting your soulmate.

✖️✖️✖️

You were a little nervous, to say the least, but it was tempered with a great deal of excitement. As you neared the coffee shop, you touched your hair almost self-consciously, but then took your hand away quickly. All you could do was hope for the best—if the two of you were really meant to be, things would go well. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and went inside.

You found him almost immediately, and he stood up as if by instinct when you entered. He was at a small corner table, and his eyes met yours with a look of astonishment and admiration.

“(Y/N)?” he asked with near disbelief.

“Bruce,” you beamed, and without thinking, you threw your arms around him in a hug. He returned the gesture, arms wrapping tightly around you.

“I—I can’t believe you’re here,” he spoke into your hair. “I mean, really here. I always thought—“ he trailed off and you pulled back, looking in his deep brown eyes again.

“Of course I’m here, Bruce. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling softly, and said “Shall we?” as he pulled out your seat for you. Thanking him, you took a seat and began studying his face as casually as you could. He had a strong jaw, full lips, lovely brown eyes, and the same curly brown-and-grey hair you had seen on the news. You had a very strong urge to reach out and slip your fingers through it, but resisted somehow. He noticed your eyes on him and cocked his head at you, a slight, sweet smile on his face.

“What?” he asked, his voice grinning along with him.

“Nothing, you’re just—really handsome,” you said, blushing. “I think you’re wonderful.” He blushed with you, and you smiled at each other for a long moment before discussing what you would order. After settling on a few things, you placed your orders and began chatting right away. He told you about his work in the science field (he shocked you with his intellect), while you told him about your job. You shared little facts about each other, and as you talked about your interests, he watched you intently with awestruck, loving eyes. It gave you more than a few butterflies, and you could still hardly believe that you were there with your soulmate.

After you finished your drinks, Bruce offered taking a walk outside. You nodded enthusiastically, wanting to spend as much time with him as you could. There’s a park nearby, fairly large for a city, with lots of pretty flowers and trees to enjoy. As you walked, you continued talking about all sorts of things.

Eventually the topic of his alien-fighting experience came up, and something in his eyes shifted. Looking down at your arm, you saw the words nervous and hopeful and worried etch themselves into your skin. You furrowed your brows in concern, and without thinking, took his hand. His fingers moved nervously under yours, but latched on with clear relief.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispered. “I just feel like—well, I can’t offer you normalcy, dependency, consistency. Sometimes he just takes over. I try, I really do, but I’ve still got a long way to go before I learn to control or even coexist with him. I could hurt you, I could break things, and it scares me, (Y/N). You’re very likely the best thing to ever come into my life, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Bruce,” you answered, tears welling up in the bottom of your eyes. “I don’t need consistency or perfection or anything close to it. All I need is you. We’ve been put together for a reason, and I’m going to fight for you, no matter what tries to stop us. I’m here for you now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

He really did whisper now, your name softly under his breath. As his eyes met yours, you began to move a little closer, head tilting towards his as if magnetized. He raised his other hand to brush across your face gently, a question, and you smiled in response. With a soft tip of his head, your mouths fell together, eagerly gentle. Your hand came up to ruffle through his curls, and they felt just as lovely as you had imagined. The two of you stayed that way, together, touching, for several moments. As he came up for air, he rested his forehead against yours, kissing you again until your smiles outgrew the spaces between you.

“Thank you,” he murmured again, and as you looked into his blissful eyes, you noticed your arm—only a single word was on it, different from the one you typically saw by itself.

Smitten.

[star-killer-md]

Dream a Little Dream of Me Pt. 5

oh MY GOD. I swear this update bent me backwards and fucked me harder than Kylo Ren ever could. Like dear sweet jesus I don’t know why it was so hard for me to get this shit out of my brain and onto my google doc but she really just wasn’t having it. Anyway, here it is. Not entirely certain if I’m all the way happy with it, but it what it is and hopefully the weird symbolism and imagery came across well. I’m an english major so I can’t like not input that shit into my writing even if its a Kylo Ren smut fic. I hope you all enjoy this mess of an update. You’ve all been incredibly sweet and supportive and like you’re just great people. My lovely coworker beta’d this for me and more than one old woman definitely overheard us talking about Kylo’s dick while at work. 

As a side note, I am new to the game of writing smut for the most part (and like long form fic) and I want to branch out Into writing more kinks and such, so if there is anything you want to see from me, please send a message! I need the practice 😂

AO3 Mirror

Part 4

Warnings: nsfw, violence against the reader, violence against Kylo, they may or may not have a physical altercation in this, minor blood mentions (like very minor), dirty talking, inappropriate use of the Force, lots of angst, like oh god so much, cockwarming if you squint, some amount of softness cause the author is a little bitch 

Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!Reader

Word Count: 7.6K (buckle up babes)

He wasn’t looking at you. 

He hadn’t looked at you all morning. 

You were looking though, couldn’t stop looking. Ever since you’d woken to find your bed empty and the Commander sat on the couch across from you, scrolling mindlessly through his datapad. There was a plate with crumbs left scattered on its surface and cup on the nightstand beside him.

You thought it might have been coffee. It was odd to think of him eating or drinking, for some reason you’d assumed before he didn’t need too. That seemed foolish now that you knew just how real he was. 

How did he take it, you wondered. With cream? Sugar to ease the bitterness? Or did he like the way it burned and tingled without anything to numb its acidic sting. 

On the small table in the corner, a silver room service tray sat abandoned. The fresh fruit was growing warm, filling the room with a sickly sweet scent that couldn’t even begin to cover the stench of avoidance that hung in the air. 

He hadn’t spoken to you all morning either. 

You both had yet to speak. 

You might have asked about the coffee, but then you noticed the very clear indent of a head on the pillow beside you. A few black hairs stood out starkly against the cream colored sheets. 

And then you remembered. 

Someone’s breath washing warm over your face, the glimpse of him bare from the waist up, your favorite mole, the shower water pounding over pink skin, his name in your mouth— 

And it became clear why he wasn’t saying anything. 

Because he knew what you’d done. 

And you knew he knew. 

And he knew that you knew he knew. 

It felt horribly awkward breaking the stillness of the room, so you didn’t move from the bed. Just sat up, letting the covers pool in your lap as the fruit slowly rotted and neither of you spoke a word. Once you thought he might have glanced at you from the corner of your eye, but when you turned, he quickly looked back down at the glowing screen in his lap. 

Eventually, you’d had enough. Throwing the sheets off your bare legs, you climbed out of bed and padded quietly into the refresher. You shut the door with a click and heard the immediate shuffling of fabric from outside. Soft footsteps and the sound of pouring liquid filtered in from the main room, but the extra clink of a spoon stirring or the dripping of cream was decidedly absent. 

He drank it black, then. 

The thought settled heavily in you. 

Your reflection in the mirror was pitiable, puffy, tired eyes staring back at you blankly. You ran the water, splashing some on your face and tried not to think about what you’d ‘seen’ the Commander do in the shower behind you last night. 

But one look at the slate gray tiles had images of his hand curling against them, the other wrapped around— 

You buried your face in one of the hand towels and groaned into it. Was he staring at your empty bed and thinking the same thing? Were scenes of you writhing on the sheets playing themselves on loop in the Commander’s head? Could he feel the lingering want for him in the air around you?

Outside the door, you heard something that sounded suspiciously like Ren choking on his coffee. 

Staring down into the basin, you felt a terrible realization cresting over the horizon. He knew about last night—that was a given. You had heard him, seen him, felt him in some ethereal way you could not explain. He’d been in you too, a presence in your head, an audience to all that you thought of him. 

But was that really the first time?

Because—now that you thought about it, really stopped and breathed it all in—the empty, lonely, half-filled and never completed feeling that sat deeply in your bones was only ever gone when he touched you—only ever relieved when he visited you in your sleep. 

And you had been blessedly free of it last night, when you lay breathless and trembling with a pleasure that did not belong to you. 

In fact, you did not feel it even now.

You thought of his face. Too identical, every mole and freckle right down to your favorite of them in the same place. The same eyes, same angle of his teeth, same ears just a bit too big and hair that fell in his face. The same baby curls by the crown of his head. 

It was simply impossible for your mind alone to have crafted such a perfect replica. 

There was no denying it. 

And it was only now dawning on you—that, in fact, it had always been him. 

The Commander Ren who drank black coffee and did everything in his power to enrage you at a moment's notice was one and the same with the Kylo who had plagued your mind for months. Whom you had not so secretly craved like he was ambrosia and you, a starving mortal at his feet. 

Your breath shook as it filled your lungs and clawed its way back out like the secret of it was trying to burst free from its prison in your ribcage. 

Outside, the Commander was moving again, and you listened, feeling the pull in each step—like he was walking through honey. 

The soft swish of his pants was the only sound apart from your shallow breathing. There was something alive in the air and it was waiting. 

The shadow of his feet came to a halt outside the door and you heard the soft thump of his hand resting against it. You were compelled by a force—the Force maybe—some unknowable tugging in your veins. Your feet found their way to stand toe to toe, palm to palm with Kylo Ren, nothing but the thin wood of the door between you. 

There was a stillness settling in the room, and when you closed your eyes, you could see it. 

He was there, clear as the void of space and twice as lovely—standing, staring through the barrier between your bodies. And you felt him see you too. Felt yourself full to the brim and fantastically whole. 

You wanted to touch him. 

Needed to touch him. 

And you knew he would let you. 

Because he always had before and you couldn’t stop your hand from pushing against the wood, prying it away to reveal Kylo, your Kylo, your Commander to you and then— 

Then it all shattered. 

The door between you was flung nearly off its tracks as someone rapped twice loudly from the hall. You barely had time to register the awful sinking sensation, like a knife carving you in two as the Commander met your eyes for the first time that morning and you felt nothing.  

The knocking came again and you gazed at him frantically. 

“Get in,” you hissed under your breath.

He stared at you with his pretty brown eyes, frowning like he always did. The man before you was simply your uncooperative Commander who could do nothing but cause unnecessary inconvenience. There was no more glimmer in his gaze to tell you the last few minutes hadn’t been just another dream. 

Your eye twitched as you stepped out past him and gestured towards the empty space left behind. 

“I’m sorry, would you like to be found out?”

The tapping on the door repeated itself and you pointed harshly at the bathroom until he finally slipped inside, knocking his shoulder into you as he went. You shut the door a little harder than strictly necessary.  

A familiar voice called to you from outside. 

“Miss Negotiator?” 

When you’d opened the door, Lem Alba was standing in the hall just outside. In his hand he held a small package. 

You apologized politely, “I was just about to get in the shower.” 

“Ah,” he nodded. “I won’t keep you too long then, just came to deliver this and to let you know that Representative Gahl has invited you to travel with his personal security team tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, right,” you tried not to sound disappointed that he hadn’t forgotten your conversation, and took the parcel from his hand. 

It wasn’t that the gesture was entirely unusual, but Gahl didn’t exactly strike you as someone important enough to warrant a whole team of guards. You thought anxiously of Atreus. 

An example. 

“Why with his personal team, may I ask?”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this” Lem looked up and down the hall before leaning in conspiratorially, “but one of the staff was found dead a few hours ago, so we’re increasing protection to some of the more high ranking individuals.”

The shock on your face was mostly genuine, “Shit, that’s horrible.” 

Lem nodded and sighed, leaning up against the door frame, “Yes, well that’s what we’ve been dealing with all morning.” 

You chuckled, “Don’t you just love doing jobs that aren’t yours?”

That’s why I’m here, you almost said but thought better of it. Something told you your audience wouldn’t appreciate the comment. The hard, invisible pinch on your thigh confirmed your suspicions. 

“You got that right,” he mumbled and stood up straight. “And I should get back to it.” 

“Of course,” you gave him a thin smile and moved to close the door but Lem’s hand caught it at the last second. 

“Let me know,” he cleared his throat, “if that’s not the right fit. I can have another sent up.” 

Glancing down at the package in your hand, you felt your face grow hot, “I will.” 

You meant to shut the door quietly, Lem still smiling at you from the other side, but the knob was ripped from your hand and it slammed closed with a bang. After a few seconds you heard the bathroom door slide open revealing Kylo Ren, taking up the entire archway. 

His size might have intimidated you if you hadn’t been so angry. 

“Care to explain yourself, sir?” you’d asked, all mercy and craving for him dying away as he stared at you blankly, jaw set on edge. It really was so amazing how this man could flip your moods like a switch. Night and day. Your hatred of him was forever inevitable. 

“I should ask you the same, officer.”

Outwardly he looked unfazed, eyes flicking to the package in your hand, but you’d seen him like this back on the Finalizer. The eerie calm before he snapped like a bowstring and left destruction in his wake. Before the bodies of officers who wronged him littered the floor and you were left to clean up the rubble.

You were walking on thin ice and it was cracking. 

You took another step. 

“If you’re insinuating that I’m the one jeopardizing our position here, then you are sorely mistaken,” your voice came out in a harsh whisper and grated your throat. 

The coffee cup on the nightstand rattled. 

“Remind me,” he took a menacing step towards you, “who here was it that agreed to leave the district with a group plotting against the Order?”

You met him head on, “I’m sorry you’re so woefully ignorant of diplomatic proceedings, but it wasn't exactly as if I had a choice.”

Cracks skittered up the porcelain as Kylo’s hands flexed, curling into fists at his sides. A rush of slick warmth flooded you at the sight. You tried to beat down the rising wave of sick arousal, but truly you couldn’t help it. Not when he looked at you with those pretty eyes blown wide and black with some dangerous suggestions. Not when his fingers were biting into his palms and you were imagining the marks they could leave on you. 

“Watch your mouth,” he gritted out each word, perfect teeth flashing behind his pink lips. 

You didn’t. 

“At least I know not to leave a body for them to find!”

The slight twitch of his eye was the only warning you got before the cup across the room splintered. Shards sharp as knives exploded out in an arch catching on your clothes and littering the rug. In the same split second Kylo Ren pounced like a predator on the hunt. His fist connected with the wall next to your head, dusting the side of your face with paint chips as it crumpled under his hand. 

You stared, gaze flicking between his shaking arm sticking out of the newly formed hole in your wall and his wild eyes—feral, lovely. 

For a minute, neither of you moved, just stood breathing each other's breaths and waiting. Again, he was only inches from you and you wished that you’d gotten to glimpse him before. That you could have slid the barrier between you aside and seen him soft and melting instead of untamed and steel hardened. 

But it seemed neither of you could let go of this savage security blanket of rage for each other. 

And if this was the closest to him you could get, that would have to be enough. 

You felt yourself draining, deflating, shrinking and cast your eyes down in surrender. Kylo pushed off the wall a second later, turning his back to you and burying his hands in his hair. He folded onto the sofa, legs spread and elbows on his knees. 

You’d seen him like this in a dream once, held his face in your hands and begged for him to take you. 

His eyes flicked to you still standing against the wall. 

“You’ve done this before,” he mumbled into his palms. 

You gaped. 

“Um, could be more specific, sir?” 

The look that comment elicited nearly turned you to stone. 

“Oh, if you’re talking about the strategic murder of political elites,” you let out an uneasy laugh and moved to perch on the edge of the bed, “then yes, I’ve arranged them.”

 You weren’t exactly proud of that, but it came with the job description. Par for the course as they say.

It was a dirty thing to do in the world of politics, and you felt much more satisfied when you had properly manipulated your opponent into submission rather than just killing them off. Your throat began to grow tight at the thought of yourself, shot in the back walking away from the mediation table. Just like the man who had this job before you.

Everything in the First Order came stained with blood and you were being called to pay the piper. 

What goes around comes around...as they say. 

“And?” his short tone brought you out of your stupor. 

You furrowed your brow, “Commander, are you asking me how I’d plot my own kidnapping and murder?”

He waved his hand for you to continue as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be asking. You supposed, in this world it was. 

“Alright then,” you sighed and flopped back on the mattress. “I would do it somewhere big, somewhere with an audience so the message gets across. Instill fear and go out with a bang.” 

Kylo’s head shot up, “They're planning on broadcasting the campaign announcement and the Order’s endorsement.”

“What?” you lifted your head off the pillows. “Did the dead body tell you that?”

“He wasn’t dead at the time,” Ren clapped back and pushed himself up in one smooth motion. 

He reached for his helmet sitting by the arm of the couch and slipped it over his head without a word. You watched him replace his layers, clipping the large belt in place and tugging on his boots. 

“Well, if I was going to kill me that’s when I’d do it,” you said, rolling on your side to watch him tighten the laces. 

Kylo didn’t say anything to that. Just stood and marched his way past the hole in the wall and stopped by the door. 

“Don’t—”

“Leave this room,” you interrupted. “I know.” 

The Commander huffed once, nothing more than an exhale of static and let the door click shut behind him. 

*** 

That was almost two days ago, and you hadn’t seen him since. 

Well, he’d certainly been there—the warm spot on your bed told you as much—but he was gone by morning and you’d left with the Representative and his team not long after. 

Currently, you were lounging in one of the large, soft chairs on your private balcony watching the waves and enjoying your first moments alone since arriving at the villa. Most of the day had been filled with hours upon hours of dull discussions where no one really wanted to hear what you had to say, but expected you to say something anyway. Finally, you’d been able to slip out while the rest of the staff sat down for drinks in the drawing room. 

The sound of the sea drifted up from the shore and settled around you, blanketing the small deck in a layer of artificial calm. The sun had begun its descent, and the water glimmered golden in it’s dying light. 

Now, there was just you and the ocean and your thoughts. 

Which, if you were honest with yourself, wasn’t that much of an improvement. 

Because you were thinking of him. 

Because that’s all you ever did anymore. 

Thinking of how you wished he was here and how you never wanted to face him again. Thinking of how you wished everything was simpler. 

And how you didn’t wish that at all. 

It was true, at first Kylo Ren had been nothing to you. His existence was more of a myth, a legend that you heard whispered, but was easy to disbelieve. How could a man like that exist, you’d thought. People didn’t live off of blood and waves of rotting bodies, they didn’t feed on power or bend the very fabric of the universe to their will. 

But they did drink coffee, and brush their teeth, and sleep beside you when they thought you wouldn’t remember. Real people tied their shoes and put holes in your wall when you talked out of turn. 

You thought of your first dreams of him, when Kylo was still soft and kind and not wholly himself—warm and gentle and lacking. You thought of him filling out around the edges, becoming clearer and sharper in words and reality. You thought of him cursing you, of holding his touch hostage and making you come apart cruelly empty of his skin. It was as if you were summoning something old and dark, drawing him more completely to you with each ritual. Everytime you came with his name in your mouth, another hook sunk and dragged him in. 

As if whatever had placed him there had taken its time, pulling pieces of him into your head until even when you were conscious, it was impossible to keep him from slipping into the forefront of your mind. 

And now that you’d been given a taste of it—of relief from the awful pit that drained you dry and was never satisfied—you were shaking again, ravenous like a starved animal with the loss. 

You got the distinct feeling there would always be something standing in between you and the Commander. Always something, always something, always something keeping you just a hair's breadth apart—making sure your palms never quite touched. 

It wasn’t enough to just hate him anymore, to feel your bones shake with the need to make him feel the same pain he inflicted on you. 

In your desperate attempt to craft something to fill the void in your small existence, Kylo Ren had become the tendons and threads which knitted you together into one, cohesive whole. 

You needed all of him, unencumbered, uninterrupted, raw and real with his teeth sunk into you. 

And really, how wrong was that?

Well, you knew the answer was most likely very wrong. But there was a reason you were good at your job and it wasn’t because you were in possession of a perfectly functioning code of ethics. 

You breathed in the salt spray off the sea and let it coat your lungs. The crashing of the waves rumbled in your chest like a drum beat, steady, sure, and comforting. No matter what, there would always be other worlds, other oceans, other lives that kept going even when yours did not. 

You were falling asleep, eyelids heavy and dropping every few seconds. 

And soon, you would dream. 

*** 

He was standing at the end of a dark hallway, just barely silhouetted by the strips of moonlight filtering through the windows.  His back was to you, so you called his name softly. When he turned, his face was blessedly bare and pale and shocked. 

“What are you doing here?” Kylo hissed. 

You stared in confusion as he moved swiftly down the hall, grabbing your arm and tugging until you stumbled behind him into a side passage. 

The second he stopped you wrenched your hand from his grasp. 

“What are you talking about?” you snapped and he whirled on you, massive, gloved hand clamping down over your mouth.

“Keep your voice down,” he said, caging you against the wall. 

The tip of his nose brushed against yours as he spoke. Your cries of protest were muffled by the soft leather, its smoke stained taste invading your tongue when you tried to speak. Shaking your head in his grasp, you manueved one of his fingers between your lips and bit down, hard. The fabric caught on your teeth as he ripped his hand away and cursed. 

“Fuck, you—!” a small trickle of blood dripped from the hole in his glove where your teeth had torn at the flesh. His eyes were venomous, “I told you not to leave your room.”

“I didn’t—” you were cut off abruptly as voices began to echo down the abandoned corridor. 

You both stared wide eyed at each other as the sound of footsteps approaching grew louder. Quickly, he stepped forward, pressing both your bodies flat against the wall. You didn’t dare breathe as two figures passed by your hiding spot in the shadows and entered the door at the end of the hall. 

Kylo was so close you could see his throat move as he swallowed, his chest right up against your face, the scent of him washing over you. Something hard was pressing into your thigh. You convinced yourself it was just his saber, despite the warm pulsing you felt every time you twitched against him. 

He was looking down at you, lips parted as though he might speak, but the voices filtering out from under the door drowned anything he might have said.

“Representative, we can’t be too hasty.” 

Each word dripped down your spine leaving a viscous and greasy trail. You knew that voice. 

An example. 

But why would you be dreaming about Gahl and his so-called advisor? 

“You aren’t dreaming,” Kylo whispered, exasperation clear as he spoke. His eyes bored into you, leaving behind painful trails wherever they darted across your skin. “Now shut your mouth before you get us caught.” 

His hand found your mouth again, his fingers prying it open and pressing hard down on your tongue. You gagged around them, the iron of his blood coating your teeth as he pulled harshly down on your jaw. It ached and popped but no sound escaped. 

You’d read somewhere before that you can’t feel pain in your dreams, but you certainly felt that. 

He was right. Not a dream then. 

You swallowed around Kylo’s fingers, hints of metal and smokey leather dripping down your throat. His eyes were fixed on your lips as they stretched around him. The warm, hard presence at your thigh ground into you by an almost imperceptible inch. 

“You said if we took the girl, he’d come.” 

It was Gahl this time, his voice rougher around the edges with age. You found yourself letting your hips curiously rock up just a hair while you listened for the slight hitch in the Commander’s breath you knew so well. 

Your heart nearly stopped at the sound—not his saber. 

“Ren will come sir,” Atreus purred. “I’m sure of it.” 

“How can you be so sure?” Gahl sounded unconvinced. 

You sucked lightly, letting your tongue trace a slow line in the gap between Kylo’s fingers. He growled low into your ear, “Behave.” 

Yeah, you thought, it’s really gonna be me who gives us away.

“I saw it sir, when he was here before, the girl was in his head.” 

That gave you pause, and you narrowed your eyes searching his face for any reaction. He remained blank but for the slight crease in his brow, and the shaking of his breath. Your mind raced at the implication. You’d certainly been aware that the Commander was constantly in your head, but you were almost entirely sure Kylo Ren hadn’t given you a second thought until very recently. 

“I still don’t understand what is so remarkable about that woman,” Gahl grumbled from behind the door. 

Well you certainly weren’t going to argue with him on that, although it felt a little unnecessary to keep bringing up just how expendable you were. 

“I can’t explain it either sir, but he’ll come for her. And if he doesn’t, her death will prove to be more than motivating enough to draw him in.” 

You felt like gagging at every word leaving that man's mouth. Kylo’s fingers in your mouth turned sour the longer you listened. 

“You had better not be wrong, Atreus,” Gahl warned, his tone darker and sharper than you’d ever heard from the old man. “I want that masked idiot dead and the First Order at my feet by the end of this election cycle.”

Every muscle in your body was tensed, clenched and pulled taught like a coil, your jaw clicked as you worked against the intrusion in your mouth. Suddenly the scent of him was too much—the air hanging heavy in your lungs and never quite exhaling fully. 

Gods, Kylo Ren really was the source of all your turmoil. 

Your tongue and teeth and lips pushed and bit against his fingers until he finally pulled them from your mouth. 

You were going to die here—you were going to die here and it wouldn’t mean anything. They were right, you were unimportant and your death would be nothing more than a blip in the First Order’s radar. And somehow Kylo Ren had managed to put you right in the middle of the crossfire. 

You needed to get away, couldn’t bear to hear whatever came next. 

“Get off me,” you hissed, wrestling against his hands trying to keep you in place. 

“Stay still—” His voice was sandpaper on your skin and you needed to leave, had to leave, had to get as far away as possible— 

“I said,” you managed to position your hands squarely on his chest and shoved with a surprising amount of force, “get off me!”

Kylo Ren stumbled, actually stumbled back and stared at you with an awful, bitter cocktail of shock and anger and something else you didn’t have the time or patience to place. Father down the hall, a door was opening and voices approached from the hall. 

Everything faded to black far before you ever heard what they said. 

***

You were on your feet before you could even open your eyes. 

The sea was calling and you were going to listen, the small stones of the shoreline sinking between your toes as you rushed down the small path from your room. Waves were crashing in pairs when you finally made it to the water's edge, stripping your evening clothes off piece by piece like shedding skin, needing to be free. 

Free of nothing. 

Free of everything. 

The salt spray churned and rolled over your ankles and calves as you waded out into the sea. Something was pulling you, stronger than the currents, tugging you out into deeper water and you let it until your head sank below the surface and the sound of muted thunder waves roiling was a cacophony in your head. 

You were drifting, mind and body being tossed about. 

Confused—reality doesn’t have a clear border anymore and you couldn’t be sure what had happened and what hadn't, what should have happened but didn’t. 

Scared—you didn’t want to die, it wasn’t something you’d thought of before despite the nature of your employment, but you realized now that it was never your strength or wit keeping you alive, just luck. 

Angry—boiling inside at the thought of your unshakeable insignificance.

Angry—unwilling to die over the wounded pride of men who constantly underestimated you.

Angry—at yourself for inexplicably wanting one of them anyway. 

You let out your breath and screamed. Let the bubbles leave your mouth in a rush of air and pent up frustrations. The rumbling shock of diluted sound waves reverberated in your chest. You shrieked until your ears popped and your lungs were empty and water rushed to fill the vacuum left behind. 

And for a few moments, when nothing remained inside you and the world was in a strange, unbalanced limbo, you felt it. Inside that crater within your soul that wept and lamented its lacking, there was a spark. Something bright and firecracker red like a lost ember which had forgotten the fire of its youth. 

And you knew what you needed to do to feed it, to let it burn, to fill yourself to the brim and overflow with totality. 

Your head broke the surface like an eggshell, water streaming into your eyes as you gasped in lungfuls of wind off the sea. Someone was shouting for you. Far on the shoreline, a massive black silhouette stood bathed in starshine and the moon.  

It took a moment for you to realize he was yelling at you.

“What are you doing?!” 

His voice barely carried over the rushing water and the sound of your arms splashing to keep you afloat. 

“None of your business,” you called, turning to swim farther out into the depths. 

You could hear his frustrated shout as the waves kicked up over his boots. 

“Get back here,” he snarled. 

You weren’t able to make out his face, but you were sure his lips were pulled back, bearing crooked teeth ready to rip your throat out. 

He might do just that with a little coaxing. That was fine with you. Your anger was one meant to be shared. 

“Make me.” 

You could feel him snapping even as you drifted deeper out to sea. He was fraying, about to break and you wanted it. Wanted him drowning in the same turmoil as you. 

“You want me to make you?” he was raging now, hands tearing at his clothes, “You want me to fucking make you?”

You watched as he was revealed to you and tumbled into the surf, incoherent fury sapping all the grace from his steps—demise personified parting the waters.  

The moon glinted off Kylo’s skin and he practically glowed with it. In spite of yourself, you thought he looked every bit a prince, so painfully handsome in his own, strange way–inimitable and all the more lovely for it. Inky black water swirled and the breakers crashed against the bare expanse of his chest, like the sea itself was desperate to steal a taste of him.

Something within you–scarlet and glimmering–stirred. 

Something that ached. 

Something that yearned. 

Something hungry.

You watched him wade towards where you were floating, felt the current shift and draw you to him like a sinking ship. In his eyes you saw that same spark, red and crackling and alive. There was a beast in his bones and it smiled. 

And you knew, you would let it take you. 

But not without a fight. 

You kicked and struggled against the Force pulling you to him, not certain if he was the one controlling it or if it had its own mind and movement. But it was a futile effort either way. He was on you in seconds, fingers like claws grasping your ankle and ripping you through the water to him. 

He growled and grabbed a fistful of your hair, dragging your head underwater without warning. But you flailed and felt your foot connect with the hard plane of his stomach and his grip on you slipped. 

“This is your fault,” you screeched when you came up again. 

He was heavier than you, larger and sunk faster in the deep water. You maneuvered your hands into his hair as well while he tried to stay above the surface and yanked him down—shouts turned to bubbles—until he raked his nails across your bare chest and the sharp pain made you let go. 

Kylo’s head connected with your jaw as he came spluttering to the surface and your mouth flooded with the metallic taste of blood. It dripped from your lips in a stream and you spat out a mess of red stained sea water, watching it splattered over his handsome face in rivulets. 

“You brought this on yourself, you arrogant little slut,” he roared, shaking your shoulders in his hands until the back of your hand cracked across his face. 

“I’m the slut?!” you shrieked. “You can’t even be in the same room with me without your dick getting hard!”

He was right now too, you could feel the prominent, warm pressure of his cock slotted against your stomach. And whether or not there was a heat building between your thighs at the thought of it was neither here nor there. 

Blood still dripped down your chin as you both ripped at each other's hair, slippery with sea salt and plastered to your skulls. 

“You think I can’t hear you begging for me,” his face is so close you can see all the hairline scars that ran through it, connecting the dots between his freckles. 

Your nose brushed against his, “I’m not the one avoiding the subject!”

His knee slipped hard into the space between your legs and you yelped. 

“You have no idea what’s at stake here,” he gritted through his teeth. 

“My life, asshole,” you bristled. “I’m gonna die here trying to fix the mess you started!”

Neither of you spoke after the words died on your lips, just floating and gasping with the exertion of staying afloat. In the following silence, with the adrenaline pounding behind your ears, Kylo’s eyes were locked onto yours—black pools like the dark water. 

Seconds passed and you let whatever dying flame was inside your chest grow until its heat under your skin was blistering and driving you forward into the only thing that would offer any relief. 

Kylo’s lips were plump and soft under yours as they crashed together, your teeth clacking with the impact. It didn’t matter, not when his tongue licking into your mouth was the most soothing sensation you’d ever felt. 

His hands were frantic, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh and pulling you as close to him as possible, leaving no inch of skin untouched. Your legs wound around his hips, locking ankles just above the lovely curve of his ass. He groaned into your lips and you felt it in your bones. 

Tell me, he spoke in your head, and it felt as though he had always belonged there. 

Your ribs were cracking open to let him spill in, to fill in all the holes that riddled you. 

Tell me, he repeated again and it sounded like praying. 

His teeth caught your lip, sucking blood into his mouth so you could be inside him too. And he was so hot against you, all pale naked and sinful. You’d never realized someone could feel so solid, so painfully real and not just a trick of the light in your mind. Arms of pure, corded muscle locked around your back and crushed you to him as his feet found purchase on the soft sand. 

The sea was spitting you back onto the shoreline, waves crashing over your entangled limbs. It was no longer clear where you ended and Kylo began. 

It was not close enough. 

Kylo, you whimpered hoping the connection went both ways and he would hear you too. 

I’m here, you felt the pebbles of the beach kick up as he stood out of the surf and walked you up the beach. I’m here, tell me. 

His mouth never ceased to move against yours, biting, sucking, drinking you down to soothe the burn of the salt. Between your bodies, his cock was twitching. And now that you were blessedly free of the water, you could feel yourself dripping with need for him. 

You’d been this close once before, but it hadn’t felt anything like this. 

Kylo walked you up the beach, kneeling down in front of his pile of discarded clothes and landing in a heap on top of you. He ground his hips down, the tip of his length catching on your clit. The sound you made was inhuman, pure desire. 

The rocks of the beach bit into your back through his cloak, but you hardly noticed when his lips wandered down your neck. He growled and sunk his teeth into the flesh between your shoulder and neck, sucking a mark into your skin you would never be able to hide. 

You reared up, ready to paint more bruises on his skin when a hand closed around your throat and slammed you back into the earth. 

Tell me or you can’t touch, he groaned. 

You huffed and whined when he pinned your wrists in one hand above your head. No matter how hard you pulled, you couldn’t break his grip and you knew before he must have been letting you hit and kick and scratch at him. Must have liked it. 

You squirmed at the thought. 

His lips ghosted over your collarbone, other hand skimming up to palm at your breasts. Kylo’s mouth closed over a nipple, rolling it on his tongue and nipping when you bucked your hips into him. 

You watched him lap at your skin, loving the wet streaks he left behind. 

I hate you, you shot back. 

He smirked against your chest and moved on to torment your other breast, all the while grinding his cock between your soaked lips, coating himself in you. 

Lying won’t get you anywhere, he punctuated the statement with a particularly hard thrust over your clit. 

The slide of it was delicious and maddening and you needed more. 

I’m not lying, you said, although the string of moans leaving your mouth when he circled the tip of his dick over your entrance was not at all convincing.He pushed in just barely, never hard enough to actually grant you any relief. 

I know a lie when I hear one, his voice was velvet and it was driving you off the edge. 

But you would fight till the very end. It was one of your few redeeming qualities. 

Fuck you. 

That’s a bit more accurate, yes. 

He chuckled darkly resting his head on your sternum so he could watch as you helplessly rolled your hips while his cock remained frustratingly not in your pussy. 

Fine, you signed and he flicked his eyes back to your face. 

Kylo’s movements stilled and he pulled his hands back, leaning down to rest on his elbows above you. Some of his pretty sea-curled hair tickled your nose. 

“II wantwant youyou,” you whispered feeling it echo through whatever presence was allowing you to transfer your thoughts without really speaking. 

His breath hitched in that beautiful way that you loved. 

And then you were screaming—really truly screaming—his hand clamping down on your mouth to stifle the noise. 

But the wave of otherworldly pleasure and searing pain that washed over you when he thrust his hips, cock sinking into your cunt to the hilt in one swift motion was entirely too much bare. 

Though, Kylo was not faring much better. His face fell into the crook of your neck and he groaned into the skin. He didn’t move for a few moments, and you felt your walls tighten around him. He was massive, you’d known that, but never had you expected to feel so full.

You cared very little then, about whether or not you were going to die on this godforsaken planet, not if he could fuck you like this. Not if you got to feel Kylo Ren in every conceivable part of your body. 

He let out a shaky breath into your neck and pulled himself up. 

“I’m going to ruin you,” he gasped, drawing his cock out of you until only the tip remained sheathed in your warmth. “Ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else.” 

Kylo slammed back into you, making your tits bounce as his hips slapped against your ass. You knew he was right. There would be no coming back from this—for him or you.  

“No one will ever feel like I do,” you retorted, clenching harder around him as he worked up a steady rhythm. 

You watched the muscles in his abdomen twitch as you tightened yourself and he reared back on his knees, grabbing your waist with his massive hands and hoisting your lower body off the ground. 

The new angle stretched you even more and every thrust caught that elusive spot inside you that had your thighs trying to snap shut against his hips. 

“Fuck, Kylo!” you cried, as shameless as always. 

“What?” he grunted. “You want it harder? Want me deeper?”

“Yesyesyesyesyes,” you babbled, needing anything he would give you. 

Kylo delivered on your request. You felt him in your stomach, each thrust was quick and sharp and angled just right and you had never felt anything like you did now. 

He was in your head still, his presence was warm and glowed a dim, sultry red that made your mind hazy—illuminated parts of yourself you’d thought were forgotten. Passion, that’s what he felt like, deep and forbidden. Delicious truth. 

“You keep saying you aren’t a whore, but look how well you’re taking my cock,” Kylo mused. 

You knew you were in his head too, could feel yourself leaking in through the cracks. He was thinking about how magnificent your pussy felt swallowing his length, how badly he wanted to cum in you, claim you and make you keep his release inside. 

There was fear there too. 

Longing and something darker. 

You wanted to take it away. 

“Only for you,” you muttered between thrusts, crying out when the Force loosed it tendrils over your skin. A shapeless finger rolled and teased your clit while two others kneaded at your chest. 

“You’re a whore just for me?” he was coming unhinged, you could sense it in the way his cock was pulsing in you. 

You nodded, bringing a hand to rest over his on your waist.

“Good girl.” 

He threw his head back, and you admired the lovely angle of his throat against the night sky. The Force on your clit was unrelenting and you wouldn’t last much longer, the tight coil of pleasure was building in your gut and spreading through your veins like quicksilver. 

“Kylo, I’m gonna—” you were cut off by his hand grabbing you by the hair and crushing you up into his chest. 

He sat your ass on his knees and lifted you up, dragging you back down onto his cock. You were like a rag doll in his hands as he wrapped his arms around your back and slammed you down. There was no space left between your bodies, nothing but the slide of your sweat slicked skin and his breath on your face. 

Even surrounded by the scent of sex and the sea you could still smell fresh mint lingering on his tongue. 

That might have been what finally sent you toppling over the edge. Or maybe it was the look on his face—brows furrowed and lips parted in a pleasure only you could bring him. Or maybe it was just the finality of it all. 

That Kylo Ren was unequivocally and irreparably linked to you now in some way. Be it through the blood in your mouths or his cock painting your insides with cum as you sobbed and clenched around him, circling in a feedback loop of each other’s orgasm. He was panting in your ear, spewing curses you couldn’t comprehend and fucking you through your release and his. 

This was something bigger than it seemed, you knew it when you heard him grunt your name while his mouth latched back on to the mark on your neck. Knew it when the glowing red presence in your head didn’t fade and the empty feeling you’d called friend all these years didn’t return. 

Knew it when he let you stay wrapped in his arms for a few precious seconds, his softening length still filling you with its pleasant, stinging warmth. 

Knew it when you felt the softest press of his lips to your neck when he lifted his head and pressed yours to his chest with a massive hand. 

His heart beat steadily under all the bone and sinew. 

It wasn’t until then that you became consciously aware he had one. 

“You aren’t going to die,” he whispered. 

And you wished you could believe him. Almost said so, but the words never came out, got lost somewhere in between your lips and how his skin was so much softer than you ever imagined it would be. Then he was pressing two fingers to your temple, a wave of unwilling sleep falling over you in a lovely, red blanket. 

And this time, you didn’t dream.  

----------------------------------------------------

Taglist lovelies:

@thewilddingleberries​ @contesa-lui-alucard​ @obsessionprofessional​ @kit-jpg​ @findyourdarkness​

[beastars-takes]

Zootopia Takes: The Power of Really Liking Each Other

Our main event, Beastars Takes, will resume soon, but in the meantime I want to talk about one of my favorite movie relationships:

Has this been talked about to death by other people? Yes. But this is my blog and I write it for free so I can do what I want.

Note: this is not a shipping post--this is just an examination of their canonical relationship in the movie and why it rules.

At first glance, this is your typical enemies-to-friends story. I love those. But while the typical arc tends to involve two characters who can’t stand each other, who eventually develop a grudging respect for one another (often through some kind of shared ordeal) and maybe thaw into actual friendliness at the end. Zootopia packs all of that into the first half--by the midway point they are clearly not just allies, but friends, and by the end of the film they’re inseparable.

It’s important to recognize this isn’t just for the hell of it, or just to be cute--the closeness and trust they build is the linchpin of their success in the final moments of the movie.

All the reasons why, after the jump.

Something I talked about in the previous post was the messaging of Zootopia, and I don’t want to rehash it too much here. It’s a movie about prejudice, and the work it takes to overcome it. A key theme (one that it shares with Beastars, incidentally) is that friendships with those who are different from you are hard--but they are worth it.

Part 1: They Hate Each Other! (Right?)

Now...it goes without saying that when these two first meet, they bounce off each other hard. Each is seeing the other at their absolute worst.

Judy can’t stand Nick because he takes every bit of optimism she has about this world and throws it back in her face. She want to use him as a prop in her vision of an equal society, where “not all foxes” are crooks. He laughs at her. He humiliates her. All he has to do is walk away, but he takes his time. He twists the knife.

For his part, Nick sees a laughably ineffectual bunny who condescends to him and threatens him with jail for the crime of...humiliating her. She may not personally be a threat to him, but she wields the institutional power of the ZPD--a power he has plenty of reason to be afraid of--and she does it irresponsibly.

On first viewing, Nick inarguably wins this exchange. He avoids arrest, reads her to absolute filth and leaves her stuck in cement.

And he makes her really sad. Nice!

But, and I don’t pretend to be the first person to have pointed this out, on second viewing it’s obvious he can guess her story so well because it’s basically his story. The only difference, in his mind, is that he’s accepted the reality that he’ll never be allowed to live the life he wants, while she is still vainly pursuing hers.

I don’t know about you, dear reader, but the people I’ve met who have always most pissed me off are the people who remind me of things I hate about myself. The people who seem to embody the flaws I’ve worked to minimize. Nick’s naive hope is what has brought him the most pain in his life. He sees this bunny full of the same naive hope, surmises that she’s facing the same failures he did and yet stubbornly refusing to learn from them. It’s irritating.

Pictured: irritation.

Maybe I am projecting, but if Nick is anything like me, he probably didn’t walk away entirely happy from this exchange. Yes, he “won,” but he was also reminded of everything about himself that he least wanted to think about.

Part 2: They Are Not Very Good at Hating Each Other

So, the thing about Judy is, she is naive. By default, she assumes people are her friend. But she’s not stupid.

Nick assumes she is stupid, not least because she hasn’t wisely given up on her dreams like he has, and...he learns that she maybe not so fun to pick on after all.

So they wind up doing the first part of this enemies-to-friends routine, allies of necessity.

So, naturally, because he is Him, he makes it his mission to torment her.

In fact, we get two whole scenes where all he does he does is watch her struggle and make this face.

The first read of this behavior is that he’s just enjoying the failures of someone he hates. He says as much later. But I would also argue--from a viewer’s perspective--Judy is ridiculously entertaining and charming throughout these encounters. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and it’s hard not to like people like that.

Is there more happening here than just schadenfreude? I won’t pretend to know for sure. But worth considering.

By the time they’re investigating the limousine, his sabotage has diminished into something more like gentle trolling. And you can’t see this face, in context...

...and tell me she isn’t starting to like him, at least a little bit.

He’s also starting to help! By the time they’re past the minor detour of almost being murdered by a mob boss, he’s entirely cooperative, helping her conduct interviews and look for clues. The movie doesn’t call particular attention to this, but it almost did.

Finally, let’s look at Nick’s behavior when they’re being chased by a rabid jaguar. He could have absolutely booked it, with no regard for the cop who was blackmailing him into helping her.

These moments go by so quickly, but they’re hugely revealing of his true character, even before he defends her in front of Chief Bogo.

He picks her up when she falls.

More importantly, when he gets to the skytram, his first instinct isn’t to jump in--it’s to hold the door for her:

He sees she can’t make it, and she even tells him to leave without her. He doesn’t. He holds the door until he can’t anymore, and as a result he’s nearly killed.

Nick is a good boy.

Part 3: They Are Friends Now

She save his life, so he saves her job. This is a key story beat, and it’s a Disney movie, so there’s not a lot of subtlety (except how the specular highlights in Judy’s eyes fade as Bogo asks for her badge--the light literally goes out of her. Go watch).

But it’s such a sweet moment of teamwork--he was contemptuous toward her from the start because she believed in herself. This is the first time she’s simply given up in the whole movie, and he steps up. Because he believes in her now.

And she believes in him! Or, she wants to.

Judy’s supportiveness here is sweet, but it’s also still a little selfish. It’s not that different from their interaction at the ice cream shop, really: she wants to meet a fox who defies stereotypes, who is easy for her to like. Someone who ticks all the boxes to prove her family wrong.

When he starts being more foxy, later--self-identifying as a predator, showing his claws, challenging her--we learn that her supportiveness is conditional.

Am I being too hard on her? Sure. She’s been in bunny country her whole life. She’s new to this and she’s trying. But that’s where she’s at.

But still! They’re friends now. They’re no longer pretending they don’t like each other. Judy’s openly encouraging, Nick is fully in her corner, and we get a few cute sequences where they keep being more and more impressed with each other.

He’s still not above affectionately messing with her, and she’s getting worse at pretending to dislike it.

And he trusts her enough to let her flush him down a toilet...

Which gives us this heartbreaking shot where he thinks she’s drowned. He cares a whole lot about this bunny.

She likes him too! Enough to want to team up on a more permanent basis. This is pretty standard-fare enemies-to-friends stuff now, but considering where we started, and considering they’ve known each other for all of two days? Not bad!

It’s clear this moment means far more to him than it does to her, too. It’s actually taken very little persuading from Judy to get him to step up and be brave and helpful and trustworthy. The fact that he’s turned around and opened up to her so fast suggests he’s been ready for an opportunity like this for his entire life, and never got it. I mean, look at his face.

The foundational flaw in her worldview is still there, though, and it’s about to do almost-irreparable damage to their whirlwind friendship.

Part 5: Fuck!

So Judy gives her press conference, and gives a great example of why police usually answer every question with “the matter is currently under investigation,” or “we’re not prepared to comment further at this time.” Honestly, though, this is on Bogo--I had coworkers who once did some press interviews, and they spent over a week doing media training. They didn’t even break a major kidnapping case. So, you know.

So she repeats some weird race science stuff she assumes is true because someone in a lab coat said it, which is amusingly similar to how race science (or “race realism”) often propagates--people with low-rent doctorates from crappy universities write a bunch of scientifically shoddy material and people say “well, he has a PhD!”

And then Nick has a PTSD flashback? I don’t want to be irresponsible and make an armchair diagnosis, but also...that is absolutely what is depicted on screen.

You’re not immediately “better” after something like this, which is why I cut Nick a bit of slack when he basically blows up their friendship.

Judy...doesn’t get it. It’s completely heartbreaking, because she likes him, and doesn’t understand why he’s mad, and isn’t self-reflective enough to stop and think maybe he has a point. Not until it’s too late. He tests her, and she fails.

Their friendship has always been a little inequal. He’s trusted her with everything, shown her his deepest vulnerabilities. She’s never trusted him completely.

So he leaves.

I don’t want to impugn her professionalism by suggesting she wouldn’t have quit the force if she hadn’t had that friendship-ending fight, but, you know. Maybe.

This is the second time she gives up, and this time he’s not there to pick her up again.

Judy is intensely goal-oriented, and I don’t think she realized what Nick’s friendship meant to her, as the first person in the city who truly believed in her, until it was too late. Judy is sweet and well-meaning but emotional intelligence is not really her strong suit (which is actually cool to see in a female Disney protagonist, imo).

So, while it would have been nice for her to track Nick down immediately and apologize, I think it makes sense for them to spend time apart. Her own self-perception has been shattered, and she needs time to figure out how she went so wrong.

So when she does come back, she delivers one of the best animated apologies I’ve ever seen. Only AtLA compares, in my mind.

Part 6: They Are Much Better Friends Now

Nick forgives her, because of course he does.

(Sidebar--people talk about how he kept her carrot pen the whole time they were apart. He also kept his handkerchief from Ranger Scouts, AND he only wears shirts that match the wallpaper in his mother’s house. He desperately needs a hug.)

Credit to Nick also, who can’t fight and has no police training whatsoever, who has multiple times been almost killed helping her out, now agreeing to help her out again. She’s not even threatening him with jail this time!

We, the viewers, are then rewarded with this great montage of them being best friends.

She’s finally stopped pretending not to be amused by his shenanigans.

(One other sidebar here--Nick is canonically a really gentle character. For all their adventuring, this is only time in the movie he gets physical with anyone: to protect the bunny. Again, he definitely can’t fight and immediately gets smacked across the room. But it’s the thought that counts, right?)

Per the post title, more visual evidence of them really liking each other.

Judy trips on a dead body, and here we get the second time in the movie that Judy tells Nick to leave without her, and he won’t--this time, he refuses explicitly.

Which then gives us the opportunity for the big moment--the culmination of all this care and intimacy and trust.

In order to con Bellwether, she lets him stalk her, and bite her throat. This has been often pointed out, but it’s important--throughout the movie, Judy’s wriggling rabbit nose has been used as a signifier of fear and suspicion. It wriggles when she’s spying on Nick at the beginning. It wriggles like hell when he confronts her after her press conference.

Not here. Doesn’t move. It’s a great, clearly intentional animation choice that tells a close observer (or more likely, a repeat viewer) that she’s completely unafraid.

She trusts him.

I could write a whole other post about how well-scripted this movie is, how every scene is doing half a dozen different things, but the way the personal and the professional come together here, the way the threads of prejudice and friendship and the police case all tie together in this moment. It’s good shit.

This is basically where things end, in terms of character development, but we get a bunch more shots of them clearly adoring each other:

So there it is.

To sum up, certainly not suggesting this movie invented “characters liking each other,” or anything like that. But it goes above and beyond in portraying a friendship that’s not just one born of circumstance, one that’s authentic and unmistakably loving. Characters who enjoy spending time with each other, regardless of what’s going on around them.

I hope everyone is able to experience friendships like that. I absolutely treasure the few I have.

Appendix: The Shipping Thing

I hope I’ve made all this ship-agnostic, which was my intention. I personally like the ship, and I think the reason it resonates with people is because that love and trust and closeness is clearly there, and a romantic relationship creates a lot more easy opportunities for dialing those things up even higher.

I would also argue, if pressed, that the amount of teasing and physicality that happens reads as pretty flirty. If they were humans I knew in real life, I’d definitely think there was something going on there. But I’m an American, where touching and emotional intimacy tends to be read as romantic. Also, animals are a lot more cuddly than humans. So who knows? I think it’s perfectly reasonable to read them as platonic friends until the end of time.

But, one way or another, they love each other a lot. Shout out to this, one of the most emotionally rewarding relationships I’ve ever seen in a cartoon.

[igirisuhito]

Title: Blue Ram Relationship(s): Komaeda Nagito/Hinata Hajime Rating: Explicit Summary: Hinata thinks he has his sexuality all figured out. Until one day a pretty woman comes to his workplace in the dead of night. Posted for Day 1 of @tropicaldespair‘s #SDR2Giftober Trigger Warnings: Cross-dressing, Semi-public sex, Powerplay, Sexual frustration, Rough sex, Perving a stranger, I’m sorry all the triggery things are horny

[Ao3 Link]

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Hinata Hajime was a regular teenage boy.

He has high grades and attends an elite school, sure. But like most teenage boys, his spare time was spent playing video games, working his part time job, or jacking off to hot girls on the internet.

As vanilla as a teenage boy could get.

Hinata works as a cashier at a convenience store a block from his house. It's your average suburban Japanese 7/11, an average teenage boy's job.

He works this job most nights, and usually does a longer shift on Sundays. In all honesty, he probably works a bit too much, but tuition for Hope’s Peak Academy is incredibly expensive. He had been enough of a burden to his parents for all these years. Besides, here he can continue to fuel his addiction to cup ramen and kusamochi for a conveniently cheaper price.

And that's exactly what he was doing on this humid Saturday night. The rainy season was finally here, and the warmth was making Hinata's work shirt stick to his skin uncomfortably. The air conditioner in the break room wasn't strong enough to combat heat like this.

It had been a quiet night, likely due to the sheer amount of rain pouring down outside. Hinata was the only one on shift, and even he had resorted to hiding in the break room to read manga. It was difficult to focus due to the loud pelting of the rain on the roof and the dizzying humidity hanging in the air.

Hinata yawned, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes that were lazily wiped away. It wasn't unusual for him to work a late six-to-two shift on a Saturday, but end of term exams had been knocking him around quite a bit. The struggle of juggling both studying and work has been causing him to become more tired than usual.

A loud electronic bell and the sound of the automatic doors sliding open broke him from his daze. Placing his manga face down on the table, Hinata stood up from his chair and made his way out of the break room before sliding into his place behind the counter.

Clearing his throat quietly, he put on his best customer service voice. "Good evening! Is there anything I can help you with?"

He glanced towards the door, seeking out the person who was dumb enough to go shopping at 12am in the pouring rain. He was met with a pair of grey eyes boring a hole into him, analysing intensely for any sort of reaction. Hinata's breath caught in his throat.

Standing near the door was a young woman, quite tall for a girl. Her white hair was pulled back into a small ponytail, still dripping with water from the rain. Dark mascara was thickly applied to her long eyelashes, so long he actually assumed they were fake at first glance. Red lipstick had been painted onto her small yet pointed lips and eye shadow of a similar colour was dusted on her eyelids. The bold colours of her makeup contrasted gorgeously against her pale skin. It was surprising that it hadn't washed off in the rain.

A tight black dress with thick straps clung to her body, fabric hugging at her hips and chest in a way that revealed she was lacking in the latter department. Sheer black stockings stretched over her skinny legs, ending in tall red high stilettos that could probably be used to kill a man if she so desired.

Hinata felt dizzy, blood rushing to his face as he brought his gaze back up to where the attractive woman's own was waiting.

"Ah… No… I'm quite alright…" The girl averted her eyes from his. "Thank you."

Her voice was surprisingly deep and sultry, it made her all the more attractive. Though she seemed somewhat shaken, perhaps even nervous?

The lady slowly made her way over to the snacks section, her heels clacking loudly against the floor with every step. Hinata watched closely, entranced by the gorgeous woman he probably had no right to be staring at as hard as he was.

She bent down to pick up a pack of salted pretzel sticks and Hinata just couldn't resist the urge to sneak a peek. He had always been more of an ass kind of guy anyway.

During his ogling, he couldn't help noticing a few small tears in her stockings, just below where her dress ended. His mind quickly became overcome with a dirty thought so jarring that it made him realize just how perverted he was being. For his own moral's sake, he forced his eyes away into another aisle, hoping she hadn't somehow been able to feel his stare.

She straightened herself up again and grabbed a cold can of Blue Ram from the fridge nearby before heading to the counter where Hinata waited. He avoided her eyes as he scanned her items.

"T-That comes to a total of 500 yen." He mumbled, finding himself blushing madly now that she was so close, enough so to smell the flowery perfume wafting off of her. Get a grip, Hajime!  

The lady smiled and patted her hands on her hips performatively. "O-Oh dear… it seems I've forgotten my purse!"

What? Are you serious? As if I'm going to fall for that.  

Scoffing silently, Hinata stared down at his shiny black work shoes.

"P-Please don't worry about the cost, m-ma'am." He stammered out.

WHAT?! Stop thinking with your dick! That's your goddamn allowance!!

A toothed grin crawled up on the woman's face as she towered over the other boy, suddenly gaining an air of confidence. "Aren't you a sweetheart! Thank you very much-" She glanced down at his nametag, " Hinata-kun. "

She picked up her items before leaving the store, making her way back out into the pouring rain. She left Hinata red faced and humiliated, wondering if he would ever see her again, hear his name on her lips…

He shook his head, snapping out of his daze. Why did he let that happen? That woman knew exactly what she was doing. It wasn't even like she was a smooth older woman either, she was pretty young! And he just let her walk all over him in those fancy high heels.

He grumbled as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, adding the missing cost to the till. Now he not only had a hard-on but he was out of pocket 500 yen as well.

With a loud sigh, Hinata made his way to the back room, determined to do something about his newfound problem.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Hinata found himself still thinking about that mesmerising bitch of a woman 3 days later during a quiet afternoon shift. The rainy weather had eased off for the day, the sweltering sun shining through the poorly cleaned windows. Studying in the barely air-conditioned Reserve Course building all day had already left him in a particularly crabby mood. It seems he can't escape the heat anywhere.  

He truly envied the Main Course students for a lot of things. Their talent, their privilege, their dormitories, their stupid uniforms, their obnoxious laughter as they ate. He especially hated the way they tried to steal stuff from the store despite the fact they could absolutely afford it and then proceeding to complain to the school and get him in trouble with his boss purely for doing his fucking job.

Hinata really did not like the Main Course students.

Which is why his mood grew even more sour now that there were a bunch of them eating here today. Another cackle echoed through the store, causing Hinata's shoulders to tense up in frustration.

The obnoxious laugh seemed to come from this boy with neon pink hair who was sporting an ugly blue jumpsuit. He slurped his soba loudly as he chatted amongst the other two students beside him. They consisted of a boy and a girl, both clothed in the Main Course's rich brown uniform.

The girl had long blonde hair that cascaded elegantly down her back, she didn't seem like she was Japanese, though. Perhaps an international exchange student? And the boy had dark hair styled in a flashy unusual manner paired with mismatched eyes. If his goal was to make people look at him funny, he was definitely succeeding.  

Hinata leaned onto the counter with a sigh, resting his head upon his elbows. His shift had just barely started yet he was already so, so bored. His coworker was hiding out in the back doing god knows what, leaving most of the grunt work to Hinata yet again . Jeez, and the guy wonders why he never bothered to remember his name.

The warm weather pulled at Hinata's consciousness, causing his eyelids to droop shut as he receded into his thoughts. He’d been conjuring up an elaborate fantasy that he found himself regularly indulging in the last few days whenever he had the time to.

It would go down on another rainy evening, the lady would come in wearing white shirt, so completely soaked that Hinata could see the lacy black brassiere underneath.  

There would be tears running down her face, smearing her makeup in a way that she still remained beautiful. She had just been dumped by her boyfriend, all alone and out in the rain, just seeking someone to care for her, to listen to her woes. Hinata would listen, take care of her, maybe wrap her up in a towel and sit her down in the back room.

She would confess that she felt feelings for him when he paid for her food, that he supported her in a time of need. She would thank him over and over again, offering to make up for it with her body. Hinata would politely decline, but she would insist, already unbuttoning her shirt.  

He would take her there, bend her over the table and make her feel pleasure like she never had before. He’d thrust so deeply that she would be crying, cumming over and over again from his well-sized cock. He would grab that little ponytail of hers and pull her face up, kissing her so passionately that he smeared lipstick across his own lips.

And finally he would cum deep inside of her (she would be using birth control, of course, Hinata isn’t ready for kids).

Afterwards, he’d call her a taxi, and she would leave her number, thanking him for the best night of her life. Perhaps she would come back, and they would fuck again and again.

The electronic bell dinged, tearing Hinata away from his sweet, sweet fantasy. The automatic doors opened and in stepped another student donning a Main Course uniform and a face mask.

Hinata rolled his eyes. "Welcome! Can I be of any ser-"

"KOMAEDA?!"

He found himself cut off by a loud screech from the pink haired student. Said student jumped up out of his seat and backed off. "Wh-why are you here! Since when did you come here?"

The dark haired one spoke. "Souda, you behave as if you have just witnessed an apparition. Does Komaeda truly strike such fear into your heart?"

"Of course he does! Nothing good ever happens when he's around! I always end up getting hurt!" The pink haired boy, who Hinata presumed to be named 'Souda', protested loudly.

The blonde girl stood up, slamming her palms on the table. "Souda! That is no way to treat your fellow classmates!"

"A-Ah, you're right… sorry, Miss Sonia…."

The student who had just entered the store laughed in a way that was honestly kind of creepy. It was just way too breathy, too pained.

"No, it's completely understandable! I'm sorry that somebody as terrible as myself has caused made you worry for your safety..."

What was that kid's name, Komaeda?

"I'll make this brief, I only came to get a drink." Eyes crinkling from what Hinata presumed to be a smile, Komaeda proceeded to walk away from the group of students.

The blonde girl, Sonia, if he wasn’t mistaken, gave Souda a glare before hopping out of her seat with an elegant swish of her skirt. She wandered over to where Komaeda stood near the drink fridges, her gait rather sophisticated and regal.

"Komaeda, I noticed you're wearing a face mask today, did you catch a cold?" Sonia asked the other, attempting to strike up conversation, probably out of pity.

The boy reached into the fridge, grabbing a can of drink. "Ah, yes. I was only in the rain for a short while, but this awful luck of mine found a way to get me sick." He finished his sentence with a soft laugh.

"Oh, that's unfortunate! I really hope you get better soon!" Sonia gave him a sad little smile overflowing with sympathy.

Komaeda paused for a second, blinking a few times before tilting his head to the side and looking towards her. "Sonia-san, I'm incredibly grateful, but you shouldn't waste your hope on scum like me."

What the fuck? Who talks like that?

The Main Course boy made his way towards Hinata, placing a can of Blue Ram on the counter. With Hinata's somewhat icy glare, he found himself hoping that his customer service smile was enough to mask the hate emanating from his soul.

Now that he was close, Hinata got a much better look at Komaeda's features. He had messy white hair and sharp grey eyes, standing stark against pale skin.

Wait.

It seemed Komaeda realised it too. He had a frightened look in his eyes, as if he were a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"You…"

Gritting his teeth harshly, Hinata closed his hands into fists before swinging one of his arms forward, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy.

"You took my fucking money!!"

Panic set in on Komaeda's face, and hearing Hinata yell was enough to force his primal instincts to kick in. He broke into a full sprint out of the store, knocking down a shelf in the process. This shelf just so happened to come down on Souda, who screamed out in pain as the metal pinned him beneath.

Hinata slid across the counter and took chase, abandoning the store and the mess in his haste. Never in his life had he been this angry about 500 yen. Well, it wasn't really about the money, it was about the fact he'd rubbed one out to a man dressed as a woman, that he had been fantasising about a man dressed as a woman. His pride as a teenage boy had been destroyed in one swift moment.

Fancy dress shoes clacked against the pavement as Komaeda ran down the street, desperate to get away from the angry store clerk mere metres behind him. His stamina was incredibly poor. Hinata's wasn't great, but at least he was forced to participate in PE and maintain his health.

Hinata noticed Komaeda was beginning to slow down and the gap between them shortened. Outstretching an arm, he reached for the back of the boy's jacket, fingers barely brushing the material the first go. With a rush of determination he reached out again, this time getting a solid grip, yanking the boy to him.

He clearly hadn't considered what pulling 65 kilograms towards yourself whilst you're still moving would do, because the next thing Hinata knew he was colliding with the Main Course student and falling forward into the pavement. He hissed as gravel dug into his skin, scraping up his hands and elbows as he landed on top of the other student.  

Hinata grabbed the other boy by his hips, flipping them over and straddling his body to prevent any chance of escape. He glared into Komaeda's narrowed eyes, both boys panting heavily in an attempt to catch their breaths.

"You... hah… owe me…" Hinata barely got the words out.

"I… ah…. haha…. I don't…. know you…" As Komaeda wheezed, he tilted his head back to rest against the pavement.

In an attempt to calm his racing heart, Hinata took a big breath of air before exhaling shakily.

"You… you played that sick prank on me… and then you took my money… and now you have the audacity to say you don't know me?!"

"You… you're the one who gave it to me…" Komaeda shot back, a smirk growing on his face.

It seemed Komaeda's mask had been ripped off in the fall, now loosely hanging from one of his ears. His nose was beginning to bleed, crimson liquid dribbling over his dry lips and teeth. His forehead had been grazed as well, Komaeda really had taken quite the tumble.

Suddenly he pushed Hinata hard in the chest, forcing him off his body. An aggressive cough racked Komaeda's lungs, forcing him to sit up as he choked.

"H-hey… are you okay?" Hinata sat back on his knees, feeling a pang of guilt upon seeing the state of Komaeda's physical condition. Had he really just chased down a sick kid?

Komaeda laughed, an incredulous expression painted on his face as he pulled the remaining loop of the mask off his ear. "Don't get all soft on me now, Hinata-kun. I don't need lowly Reserve Course students worrying about my health."

With his patience instantly running out, Hinata was left fuming. Why on earth did he even ask if that guy was okay?! He was clearly just another stuck up rich prick from the Main Course.

Rising to his feet, Hinata wiped some of the dirt off his hands, wincing at the open wounds that had been left from sharp gravel tearing through his skin.

"If I get fired it's your fault!" He spat back, unable to think of anything else to say to save his dignity at this point.

Clenching his hands into fists, Hinata turned away from Komaeda, who was still sprawled out on the pavement. He began his walk back to the convenience store, a little anxious about his employment situation.

Why would a guy even dress up as a chick? Was he getting off on it? Hinata wondered as he walked.

Was Komaeda gay?

Wait, why did the sexuality of a Main Course student even matter to him?

Was… he gay?

Even after finding out that beautiful woman was a man, he still felt so incredibly attracted to him. That flushed out face and those reddened lips had him having physical reactions that he really shouldn't be having.

Hinata buried his face in his grazed palms. This was way too much to process in one day. He paused and took a deep breath, regaining his composure before stepping back into the store.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

After Hinata returned he lied to his coworker, saying Komaeda had been stealing, which was why he left the store so suddenly. Surprisingly enough, Komaeda's Main Course buddies backed up that refute, claiming, "Trouble just follows that guy everywhere." Hinata almost felt bad for him for a second, until he realised it was himself who had to clean up the knocked over shelf.

He didn't see Komaeda again after that.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Exams were finally over and Hinata now had a chance to relax. He took the late evening Saturday shift to make up for all the shifts he didn't work after the incident, partially due to exams, partially due to fear of running into that Main Course student again. So even if Komaeda had been by, he wouldn't have known about it.

It made the week incredibly boring and frustrating. For some twisted reason, he wanted to see that boy again. He wanted to cuss him out and punch him, show him how useless that Super High School Level title really was against his fists and prove his own worth.

Though, of course, he would be kicked out of Hope's Peak faster than he could agree to the Hope Cultivation Project.

Leaning his elbows onto the counter, Hinata let out a loud sigh at the realisation that Komaeda wasn't the only thing he had to worry about. If he agreed to the project, he could probably quit working. But that would most likely mean he'd never have the chance to see that boy again. Though, it's not like he'd have the balls to approach him on campus anyways.

But if he was talented, he wouldn't have to worry about that kind of thing, right?

Hinata shook the thought from his head, this really wasn't what he wanted to preoccupy his mind with right now.

Perhaps now would be a good time to check if anything needed restocking. Not a lot of people tend to come by after 10pm, which made working these shifts so easy. Though, you were more likely to encounter drunks and unfavourable people. Not to mention the beating Hinata's sleep schedule took if he ever took one on a weeknight.

He yawned and straightened himself up, beginning to peruse the shelves. Usually he left this kind of thing to whoever worked the Sunday morning shift, but he was feeling particularly bored tonight. Somebody must have restocked during the day though, as there were still plenty of snacks stacked on the shelves.

Ugh, the one time he actually wants to work for his money…

Hinata needed something to keep himself from dozing off out of sheer boredom, so he grabbed a can of coffee from the fridge before returning to the counter. He put his palms down and hoisted himself up, sitting up on the surface with his legs hanging down.

Hinata picked his drink back up, cracking it open with a hiss as the air escaped. He took a few large gulps before placing it back down.

He said he wasn't going to think about the Project when he was feeling so tired and distracted, trying to relax, but he really did need to make a decision. He was already in his second year and still unsure of what to do. They were probably going to dump him if he didn't decide soon, and having that choice taken away from him worried him more than agreeing to it.

But he was particularly worried about the consequences of agreeing. There was such a high chance that the surgery could go wrong, be botched. Well, they actually said the risk was rather small, that the Super High School Level Neurologist would be the one leading the surgery. And sure, he trusts in his talent, but letting somebody into your head is just… terrifying.

The door slid open with an electronic ding, startling Hinata. He threw himself off the counter quickly and yelled out his scripted greeting. "G-good evening!! C-can I be of any service?!"

Hinata spun around, turning his eyes to the door and picking up the lingering can that sat on the counter, in full view for any customer to see how he had been slacking off. He saw the familiar brown pleated skirt of the female Main Course's uniform, so naturally he was expecting a girl, yet when he let his eyes wander up he found himself staring at a painfully unforgettable mass of white hair.

"Ko-"

"Ah, you're working tonight. I was expecting the other one." Komaeda muttered, stepping into the store with a rather exaggerated sway of his hips.

Hinata blinked hard, attempting to keep calm enough to recall his coworker's name. "Uh… the guy with black hair?"

Komaeda paused and blinked in return. "What? You don't even know his name? You truly are useless Reserve Course garbage, huh?"

"Hey! I'm not garbage! If anyone here is garbage it's you!" Hinata yelled, slamming his hands onto the counter. "Coming here so late at night in a girl's uniform, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

A sick grin crept up on Komaeda's as he began to move close to Hinata, allowing the other to get a better look at his getup.

He was wearing tall white socks with black flats. His skirt was much too short, showing off an inappropriate amount of thigh with every movement. Beneath the matching brown blazer was a beige cardigan and a white dress shirt, tied up cutesy with a red ribbon tie. This time he wore no makeup and had done nothing with his hair, just the girly clothes.

"It's true, I am pure scum. This hobby of mine may be disgusting, perverted, messed up, whatever word you want to use to describe it." Komaeda paused for a second before leaning closer. "But nothing I do will ever be as shameful as your pathetic attempts to be something you could never be."

Something in Hinata snapped at those words. He found himself grabbing Komaeda's collar, gripping the fabric tightly in his fist before pulling him across the counter. Hinata raised his fist, gritting his teeth as he went to take a swing at the other boy. However, a coherent thought reached his mind in the last second, and he stopped himself before it could make contact with Komaeda's face.

Komaeda's face twisted into a big grin. "Do it. See what happens. I dare you." His eyes swirled with a strange emotion. Excitement? Fear? He couldn’t say for certain.

Hinata's teeth worried at his lip as he considered it briefly. He could hit him, he was right there. Hitting him would bring him the justice and the relief he had been craving all week, spite that had wound tightly up in his gut whilst sitting all those horrendous exams.

He bit down on his lip hard, before letting go of the other boy with a sigh. "You're not worth it."

Leaning his elbows onto the counter, Komaeda propped his chin up with his hands and gave Hinata a wide smile. He kicked his legs up off the floor, allowing it to bear his full weight. "Say, Reserve Course, why are you so angry anyway?"

"I have a name." Hinata snapped at him. "And why wouldn't I be mad? You deceived me and have the gall to keep insulting me like that."

"Calling you Reserve Course isn't an insult, it's a fact. If you're the one getting upset, then you must truly realise how much of an embarassment you are huh?" Voice practically dropping with mockery, Komaeda tilted his head slighty to the side.  

"Shut up. I can tell you're just trying to rile me up." Hinata spat, looking away from the boy in front of him. "Get off the counter before somebody else sees you."

"No thanks! Is that really what you're mad about? A random stranger whom you have nothing to do with just so happens to be crossdressing? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're either a homophobic prick, or you're mad at yourself for being into it." Komaeda stared right into Hinata, refusing to avert his eyes in an attempt to draw his attention back.

And he was successful, as Hinata was now staring with his mouth agape and cheeks red. "I- I'm not into it!"

"I see! So you're homophobic then?"

"No!!"

"Are you sure?"

"Very!"

"Hmph, suit yourself." Komaeda laughed softly before shimmying himself back off the counter. He picked up Hinata's can of drink, making eye contact with the boy as he took a sip.

"H-hey! That's my drink!" Hinata stuttered out, still somewhat shaken by the accusation.

Komaeda recoiled and groaned. "So bitter… how can you drink this stuff?"

The other boy shrugged. "It's coffee, it's always bitter. Why did you even drink it if you don't like it?"

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Komaeda placed the drink back onto the counter. "Are all of you Reserve Course students this inane?"

"What? What are you even talking about?" Hinata blinked hard, trying to recall if he had missed something.

Komaeda made a frustrated noise before walking around to behind the counter with yet another expression that Hinata couldn’t quite place. He blurted out a "Hey, you can't be back he-" before having his words cut off by the other boy grabbing his shirt with two hands and planting his lips on his.

Hinata gasped, which gave Komaeda the chance to deepen the kiss and lick at the inside of his mouth. His brain was now running at a million miles an hour, trying desperately to comprehend what the fuck was going on.

The guy who's been making him question his sexuality rocks up to the place he works, dressed in a girl's uniform, and then proceeds to rile him up, insult him, before shoving his tongue into his mouth?

Hinata pushed the other boy away from him, his face rapidly heating up and his pants feeling a bit tighter than before. "Look, Komaeda, I really don't appreciate you making fun of me like this!"

There was an utterly dumbfounded look on Komaeda's face that simply furthered Hinata's confusion. "You still don't get it? I'm trying to seduce you."

"Hah?"

"I want you to fuck me, Hinata-kun."

Hinata's mind completely blanked. That was ridiculous. Komaeda was a rude Main course bastard who seemingly just swung by Hinata’s workplace to make a mockery of him, the dots didn't connect whatsoever. Complications aside, he couldn't deny those words sent his teenage boy heart racing. "B-But you hate me?"

"And?"

"And?!"

"You're hot." Komaeda took a shaky breath, suddenly getting a little more nervous, "Just… say whether or not you want to have sex with me."

"I-I do!!” After blurting out the confession, Hinata averted his gaze to the floor. His face felt like it was on fire at this point. “It's just… uh… I've never done anything… uh… with anyone before."

A loud, wheezy cackle left Komaeda, one that caused him to shake and grab at his shirt as he howled. Hinata watched in confusion and Komaeda fought for his breath, still giggling away until the humour finally began to wear off. He stopped and suddenly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh good, I thought I was going to have to break it to you that you’re gay."

"Shut up." Hinata hissed. "You pretty much already did, anyway."

For a second there, Komaeda almost looked shocked, but his expression quickly morphed into a grin. "Was I the one who awakened you? That's incredibly high praise, Hinata-kun."

He draped his arms around Hinata's shoulders, still wearing a cocky smile as he leaned in close once again. This time Hinata took the initiative, twirling Komaeda around and forcing him into the wall behind them before desperately kissing him.

Komaeda flinched, not expecting the rough treatment, but definitely welcoming it. He bit at Hinata's lips as the boy's hands slid down his sides, feeling him up. A moan slipped from Komaeda as a hand ran up his shirt, fingertips grazing along his skin and up to his chest.

Upon feeling lacy fabric, Hinata pulled away from the kiss for a moment. "Are you… wearing lingerie?"

Komaeda giggled softly. "Of course I am, there's no point in dressing like a girl if you aren't going to go the whole mile."

Hinata shook his head, chuckling to himself at the absurdity of the situation. "We're really doing this huh? I don't even have any condoms or lube…"

Komaeda glanced behind Hinata, eyeing the shelf of 18+ items. Hinata followed his eyes, breathing an "Ah." in response. "But what about the store?"

"I can guarantee right now that nobody will come in. I'm not good for much, but this kind of thing I am." Komaeda cracked a near elated smile, happy to finally have his talent be useful.

Despite still seeming somewhat confused, Hinata nodded in agreeance. "Okay… but what about the cameras? Surely they wi-"

That smile on Komaeda's face fell. "If you make another excuse I'm leaving."

"Okay okay!" Hinata put his hands up, stepping back from Komaeda with a huff. He wandered to the front of the store to flip over the 'Back in 5 minutes' sign and lock the doors. He felt it was completely unnecessary, but Komaeda let Hinata waste his time with it anyway.

He decided to take advantage of the moment and grab a pack of condoms and a small tube of lubricant. Any footage on the cameras of him taking the items would go mysteriously missing, after all, the sheer amount of bad luck he had been experiencing for the past week practically guaranteed the night's success.

He opened up the condom pack, ‘Ribbed for her pleasure.’ He couldn't suppress the urge to giggle, pulling one out before slipping it into the breast pocket of his shirt.

When Komaeda looked up again, Hinata was watching him with a nervous stare. His forehead shimmered a little with sweat from the head, and the tight sleeves of Hinata's shirt squeezed around his biceps. He was well built, shirt fitting a little too snugly around his pecs.

He could only hope this Reserve Course boy was as good as he looked.

"Where would you like to do it then, Hinata-kun?"

Hinata shuddered, a rush of arousal burning through him at the sound of Komaeda's sultry voice. It was embarrassing just how much it turned him on.

"T-The back room…" He stammered out, once again forcing himself to look away from Komaeda.

"Well then," Komaeda grabbed ahold of Hinata's twist, causing him to gasp, "The back room it is."

The irony of being led around his own workplace escaped Hinata, who was currently too dizzy with arousal and heat to even walk straight.

Komaeda pushed the door open, pulling Hinata into the break room where it was much cooler, seeing as the air conditioner didn't have to fight with the heat exhaust from the fridges. The two of them paused for a moment, revelling in the cool air as Komaeda swiped at his brow and Hinata aired his shirt.

"S-So, uh…"

Before Hinata could stammer out whatever stupid question that would kill Komaeda's mood, he turned to face him with a smile and put his hands on the boy's hips. Hinata complied as he was slowly walked backwards, admiring the passionate look burning in Komaeda's intense grey eyes. The same ones he admired so deeply upon their first encounter, yet avoided out of nervousness.

This time Hinata was still shaking with nerves, making a startled noise when the back of his knees hit something hard. Komaeda chuckled at his apprehension, voice calm and soothing as he guided him down to sit on the object he presumed to be a chair.

Hinata's thighs shook as Komaeda leaned his hands onto them, using them to balance himself as he straddled his waist in a way that pushed their groins much too close. A soft sigh escaped Komaeda's lips as he settled into Hinata's lap, a smile turning up at the corners of his mouth.

"A-Are you sure this is safe? These chairs are kinda, uh, shitty." He averted his gaze, mouth going dry as he babbled out the words. "I-I-I mean, t-they aren't really meant to support, uh, lots of weight…"

That smile simply got wider, flashing Komaeda's pearly white teeth beneath it. "Mm, we'll see."

Before Hinata could blurt out another objection, Komaeda's lips slotted against his in an aggressive kiss. He barely realised what was happening before Komaeda was already giving swipes of tongue against his lips.

Apparently that was all it took for Hinata's brain to give up on caring about Workplace Safety. His head felt light and dizzy as he reciprocated the movement, moaning softly against the other's lips when their tongues made contact and indulged in a sweet moment of friction.

Komaeda sucked passionately at his tongue in a way that created all sorts of lewd and slick noises that went straight to Hinata's dick. He must have felt it too, because next thing Hinata knew Komaeda was rolling his hips forwards, grinding into the other's crotch in a way that made both of them moan from the soft friction and pressure.

When they finally broke off the kiss, Komaeda was left panting with a little smirk on his face. His cheeks flushed a soft red as his eyes slid down over Hinata's reddened lips, wandering until they fell onto his chest. Pale hands wandered to the collar of Hinata's work shirt, fingers taking hold of the fabric and beginning to undo the two buttons.

With a little bit of Hinata's chest exposed, Komaeda could finally start to see what it was he had been working so hard for. He pressed his hands against Hinata's pecs, smoothing them down across his torso until he reached the hem of the fabric. For the first time tonight, Hinata was completely focused, already raising his arms to make it easier for Komaeda to pull his shirt up and over his head.

The shirt was quickly tossed aside, left abandoned on the floor as the fabric was replaced by hands stroking over Hinata's chest.

A pleased hum could be heard as Komaeda gave his pecs a gentle squeeze. "That shirt isn't very flattering for your body, it makes you look skinny."

“Uh, thank you?”

Hinata wasn’t really sure what to do with his hands as he raised them up to rest on Komaeda’s shoulders, an action that brought out another gentle laugh from him. Removing his hands from Hinata’s chest, Komaeda placed them on top of his own, guiding them downwards past his collarbone and over his chest. Not once did Hinata’s eyes stray from his hands.

Komaeda continued to guide them down, over the subtle curve of his hips until they settled into the pale flesh of his thighs. A light pressure was applied as Hinata buried his fingers into the soft skin, squeezing slightly. This elicited a pleased sigh from Komaeda, who shifted forwards to guide Hinata’s hands to his ass.

A groan barely escaped past Hinata’s gritted teeth as his pants rubbed against his erection. He gripped the flesh tighter, spreading Komaeda’s ass cheeks as he ground his hips upwards. The sensation was overwhelmingly good, sending shocks of pleasure down Hinata’s spine and making his head spin with need .

Those slender fingers returned to Hinata’s chest, brushing over his nipple before taking it between two fingers and squeezing gently. This pulled another moan from Hinata’s throat, and he thrust his hips up again.

“You’re awfully sensitive.” A tighter pinch had Hinata letting out a high squeak, which made him flush bright red in embarrassment. “I know I’m the one wearing a skirt, but if anything you’re more like a girl than I am.”

Hinata resented the way Komaeda’s teasing seemed to go straight to his dick. He pushed his hips forward again, repeating the motion in order to get more friction on his unbearably hard cock. Another rush of pleasure shot through his veins, making Hinata shudder and moan.

In order to silence the awful comments that were shortening his patience in more ways than one, Hinata leaned upwards and pulled at Komaeda’s bottom lip with his teeth. This seemed to get the point across, as Komaeda stopped teasing at his nipples and kissed Hinata deeply, open mouthed and messy.

No teases of tongue, the kiss instantly descended into something filthy and desperate. Teeth clacked against each other painfully as both boys tried to taste as much of one another as they could, the bitter taste of coffee still lingering on Hinata’s tongue.

Hinata’s eyes fluttered closed as he drank in the sensation of Komaeda licking into his mouth and grinding against his crotch. With each breathy moan from the boy above him, he could feel a heat tightening more and more in his lower gut. He moaned against Komaeda’s tongue, gripping his ass tighter and he began to shake slightly with the need for release.

“Wait wait wait.” The boy above him suddenly pulled away, leaving a long string of saliva that broke in the air. He stilled the movements of his hips and spread his palm against Hinata’s chest, “You’re way too worked up. I know you’re a Reserve Course and everything, but surely you’re not going to cum in your pants before we’ve even started?”

There was an annoyed look on Komaeda’s face, one beyond the cocky teasing, like he was genuinely upset by the reaction he had drawn from Hinata.

Hinata’s brow furrowed. “What does being from the Reserve course have to do with anything?”

With a soft little “Hmph,” Komaeda shifted forward and lifted some of his weight off Hinata’s lap. He reached into the pocket of his blazer, pulling the bottle of lube he’d acquired earlier out before shedding the garment and dropping it onto the floor where Hinata’s shirt had landed previously.

Holding the lube in one hand, he began to undo the buttons on his cardigan. Hinata watched closely, focusing on Komaeda’s careful fingers instead of his painful erection in hopes of getting his heart to calm down. Once he’d undone the buttons, Komaeda removed his cardigan, leaving him in a well ironed long-sleeved dress shirt that was rather loose in the chest area.

“U-Um… I’m a little uh…” Hinata’s eyes followed the movements of Komaeda’s hands as the boy uncapped the bottle and drizzled some of the clear liquid onto his fingers.

A rather sadistic laugh echoed off the walls of the room as Komaeda cackled loudly. “You’re so precious Hinata-kun! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Unless you would like to help?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Blinking away the confusion, Hinata stared up at Komaeda expectantly, “Just tell me what to do.”

The lid snapped shut and the bottle was placed onto the table next to them. Komaeda brought his fingers behind his back with a flirty smirk. “Well then, could you please move my panties out of the way?”

With a nod, Hinata slowly brought his fingers forward, hooking one around the lacy thong before tugging it out of the crevice of Komaeda’s ass. He tried to ignore the burning in his face as he tugged the cheeks apart a little, giving Komaeda better access as he brought his fingers to his hole.

There was a pause of silence, before Komaeda let out a rather gentle sigh, relaxing his whole body. He then pushed two fingers into himself with relative ease, having already been there numerous times this week. Entranced, Hinata watched Komaeda’s expression soften as he adjusted to the feeling of having something inside him.

It didn’t take long for him to begin moving his fingers, slowly thrusting them inside himself and drawing them back out again. He scissored the digits apart, stretching the tight muscle and ignoring the slight burn.

Unsure of what to do, Hinata settled for observing every little reaction on Komaeda’s face. The gentle bites of his bottom lip, the soft gasps that came whenever he pushed further than he expected to, the dusting of blush on his cheeks. He couldn’t get enough, it was simply so erotic to watch and only made him more excited for the final act.

Noticing Hinata’s interest, Komaeda placed his free hand over Hinata’s right, pulling him closer. He pulled his fingers out of his hole before rubbing some of the lube off onto Hinata’s index and middle finger. The guideless letters floating in Hinata’s mind finally spelled out an answer, he wants me to finger him .

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Hinata nodded and rubbed his fingers against Komaeda’s entrance. He tried his best to go slow so as to not hurt him, but his fingers easily squeezed in, much to Komaeda’s delight.

All Hinata could process was how warm it was inside another person. He moved his fingers experimentally, rubbing at the soft walls with a childish feeling of intrigue.

“Doesn’t it feel nice?” As soon as Komaeda said that, he clamped down against Hinata’s fingers, drawing a gasp from him. “Think about how good it will feel to be inside an Ultimate. Wouldn't you like that, Hinata-kun?"

Hinata did allow the thought to pass through his mind, being buried balls deep within that soft warmth, the friction as Komaeda squeezed down around him. To answer Komaeda’s question, Hinata pushed his fingers deeper, eliciting a gasp from the other.

“You know… you never did tell me your Ultimate talent?” Lowering his voice, Hinata tried to sound like he had a better grip on the situation than he actually did.

Komaeda fluttered his eyelashes innocently, Hinata couldn’t tell if it was intended or not. “Ah, I never did, did I? It’s a rather boring and worthless talent, but a talent nonetheless.”

Ignoring the seething little rage that burned in his chest at hearing Komaeda say a talent was ‘worthless’, Hinata withdrew his fingers. “So, what is it then?”

There was a soft hum of appreciation from Komaeda, and he slid off the other’s lap. “I won the lottery for my year, I am the 77th’s Ultimate Lucky Student.”

“Seriously?!” Hinata had to keep himself from gasping in excitement, his obsession with talent coming close to overriding all horny thoughts from the moment prior. That’s so--!”

“Lucky?” As he planted his feet on the floor and stood up, Komaeda couldn’t help but insert the snarky comment.

Pursing his lips, Hinata watched as Komaeda leant down and brought his hands to Hinata’s belt. “Cool... I was going to say cool.”

Another soft hum left the other boy as he unclasped Hinata’s belt. That was enough to bring Hinata’s thoughts away from Komaeda’s talent and back to how hard he was. Komaeda undid the button and fly of Hinata's work pants, the other helped by lifting his hips and shucking them down slightly, exposing part of his ass to the uncomfortably cool metal of the chair.

Reaching into Hinata’s boxers, Komaeda wrapped his fingers around the length before pulling it out from beneath Hinata’s sakura printed boxers. Both the relief of being freed from the tight fabric and the sensation of being touched by a hand that wasn't his own were overwhelming, and Hinata practically stopped breathing right then and there.

“Wow, you’re bigger than I expected a Reserve to be.” Giggling at Hinata’s reaction, Komaeda gave his cock a gentle stroke downwards in order to expose the flushed head.

Hinata blinked hard, processing just how stupid that comment was. “I still don’t understand why you think talent and dick size have any correlation.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Komaeda began to slowly jerk Hinata, spreading precum across the shaft whilst bringing his other hand to his breast pocket. There was a loud moan of relief from Hinata, and he allowed his eyes to fall on Komaeda’s hand, his brain dismissing his incredulity.

Withdrawing a shiny packet from his breast pocket, Komaeda brought it to his mouth before tearing it open with his teeth. Using one hand, he pulled a translucent green condom from the packet, allowing the litter to fall to the floor.

He removed his hand from Hinata’s dick, drawing a whine of impatience from the boy that amused him greatly. He brought the condom to the head, pinching the tip as he began to slowly unroll the latex down to fit snugly around his cock. When he looked up again, Hintata was biting his lip and watching with bated breath.

“Adjust it if it’s uncomfortable, otherwise it’ll probably end up tearing.” Straightening himself back up, Komaeda placed his hands on his hips with a soft sigh.

With a gentle nod, Hinata brought his hand down to adjust the condom. It was an incredibly foreign sensation, but necessary, at least this time.

Komaeda slid his hands down his hips, then under his skirt and back up again, giving Hinata a glimpse of the lacy pink panties hidden beneath. He hooked his thumbs around the waistband, and pulled them down to the floor before stepping out of them.

Flashing a flirty smirk, Komaeda wrapped his hand around Hinata’s erection, drawing a surprised yelp from him. He swung a leg over Hinata’s waist, beginning to mount him once again. Angling Hinata’s cock, he attempted to bring it to his prepared entrance. He seemed to be struggling to find it, and bending his arm back was beginning to hurt. Seeing his difficulty, Hinata placed his hand over Komaeda’s and helped him line it up with his hole. With a satisfied exhale, Komaeda placed his hands on Hinata’s shoulders and began to slowly sink down.

Nothing could have prepared Hinata for the sheer heat that engulfed his cock. It felt so much better than his hand ever could, even more so than having his fingers inside Komaeda did. It seemed that Komaeda was enjoying it too, because his eyes were squeezed tightly shut and mouth open wide in surprise.

“Oh shit .” Hinata gasped as Komaeda lowered himself completely, taking the entirety of his length with one movement. He gripped at those skinny hips, desperately seeking something to put him in a little control and his brain succumbed to ecstasy.

"Haha!" Giggling to himself, Komaeda slowly drew his hips back up. "You really are a virgin, aren't you Hinata-kun?"

It felt as though Hinata's face were on fire, "I-I already told you that!"

Bony hands fingers dug into Hinata’s shoulders as Komaeda dropped back down again, forcing Hinata to bite his lip so as to not let out another embarrassing sound. Slow drags up and down, plunging Hinata back into that tight heaven of friction and ecstasy. He allowed his head to tilt back, letting out a gentle sigh as Komaeda set a slow yet pleasurable pace. The kind of pace that set the mood, eased him into it, left both of them craving more. When his eyelids inevitably flickered shut, Hinata felt as though he were floating. The humidity was getting to him, along with those sickly wet sounds and heavy breathing warm on his skin. The warm weight of Komaeda’s body pressing against his made it all too easy to take whatever he was offering, to forget all of that assholeish shit he said and did in the past week.

The need winding around his gut was pulling tighter and tighter, his hips beginning to move up to meet Komaeda’s. He wanted more, if he was going to cum he needed more than just this. Hinata’s eyes flittered open, and he glanced down to his hands. Komaeda’s pleated brown skirt rested just beneath his fingertips, material all bunched up at the sides with a little bulge tenting it at the front. He couldn’t resist the urge to slide his right hands down Komaeda’s pelvis, carefully dragging his fingers over the bulge until he reached the tip.

“A-Ah!”

Startling, Komaeda almost jumped right off Hinata’s lap. His breathing was heavy and wheezy, lungs quietly rattling as he tried to catch his breath. The pale skin of Komaeda's face had flushed to a bright pink, he looked like he was going to throw up.

"Hey, wait…" Hinata murmured, tipping his head back up. "You don't look too hot."

There was a soft chuckle, followed by Komaeda clasping a hand over his mouth as he broke into a coughing fit. He dug his left hand tightly into Hinata's shoulder, stabilising himself as his body shook.

"Have you finally come to your senses, Hinata-kun? Though, can you really be that picky?" He croaked out, giggling between coughs. "You are a Reserve Course student, after all."

Sitting up, Hinata grabbed hold of Komaeda's waist again. "Hey! No no I'm not talking about that. You were sick the other day, weren't you?"

"Ah, I've had a cold that has been rather difficult to shake." Sheepishly, Komaeda averted his gaze to the floor. "Are you worried about catching it? I'm sure it's not something viral."

"I'm not worried about that, I'm worried about you going into respiratory failure!"

Komaeda laughed dryly, an almost bitter sound. "It is always a possibility! Trust in my luck to kill me the second I get a good thing."

Confused, Hinata blinked a few times. "Do you want to stop?"

"Do I want to stop…?"

Komaeda paused, repositioning himself in Hinata's lap as he considered his next move. He didn't want to stop; he was so glad to be finally here, to be doing this. Something so dangerous and taboo, and with a student who was not only beneath him, but a complete stranger.

The exact kind of scenario in which his luck could be completely unpredictable. The nervous feeling bubbling in his chest caused a creepy smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth.

"Not at all!" He chirped.

The cheery tone only furthered the furrow in Hinata's brow. "Seriously, you look like you're about to pass out, let me-"

"Don't get all soft on me now, Hinata-kun. I don't need lowly Reserve Course students worrying about my health."

Hinata blinked hard, recalling what Komaeda had said to him the day he'd discovered his dirty secret. The scowl on Komaeda's face as he glared up at him, the blood dripping down his lips, only to spatter against the concrete.

Komaeda didn't need sympathy. Komaeda didn't want sympathy.

His hands slid under the other's boy's thighs, gripping tightly and pulling him closer. Before Komaeda could understand what was happening, Hinata rose to his feet, picking up Komaeda with him and causing the other to gasp in surprise. He wrapped his legs tightly around Hinata's torso, fearing that he may be dropped.

Hinata pushed him down into the table, forcing him forward until his back was flush against the cold plastic. A can of drink was knocked over in their wake, and Komaeda did not neglect to notice the open manga and discarded plastic wrappers by his head.

Messy…

"Oh? Getting rough with a Main Course student are we?" Komaeda giggled, setting himself off into another series of coughs and barks.

"You were taking too long, it's my turn now."

Hinata slammed his hands down beside Komaeda's head and thrust his hips forward, pressing himself deep into the other boy. Blunt nails scraped against the plastic as Komaeda wheezed, his legs strangling around Hinata's waist.

"You really love this power dynamic thing, don't you? Did you seek me out specifically because you wanted to be fucked by somebody inferior to you?" Digging his nails into Komaeda's skin, Hinata moved with reckless abandon. "You're disgusting, Main Course students really are all the same."

It made Hinata seethe with an unbearable anger. He had never felt this pissed in his life, wound up so tightly that all he wanted to do was hit Komaeda until that stupid smile fell right off his face. But he couldn't deny just how good it felt, being put in his place by a girl dressed in her school uniform, the irrefutable proof that she was better than him.

But Komaeda was not a girl. No matter how feminine he looked, his hips were narrow and chest flat. His skirt had ridden up, exposing his cock that was bouncing against his stomach as Hinata fucked him, having slipped out of his lingerie quite some time ago. His little raspy moans and gasps sounded pretty girlish, though, and that was enough for Hinata.

“A-Ah you’re… hah! Come on you can do a little better than— f-fuck!”

Unable to resist the urge, Komaeda kept taunting him. Hinata was endlessly unamused by this, resorting to tilting his hips in order to get closer to Komaeda's prostate.

At least, that's what he was hoping. It was up, right?

A lucky guess, he supposed, and Komaeda was broken into whimpers. He scrabbled for the edges of the table, gripping tightly as it creaked beneath him.

It was overwhelming, the pleasure and excitement becoming too much for Komaeda. It felt like he was going insane, being rocked into so hard it was almost painful. The little giggles he made amongst the moans and whimpers were involuntary, but with every passing second he felt higher and higher. Closer and closer to reaching something amazing.

Is this what hope feels like?

It was a stupid thing to wonder.

Hinata himself felt as though he were melting, brain fuzzy with anger and arousal. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he panted, exhaustion beginning to catch up on him even though he was oh so close.

He leaned in close, burning his face in Komaeda's neck as he panted. The movements of his hips were beginning to stutter and slow, he was failing.

"Please…" Komaeda whined, wrapping his arms tightly around Hinata's neck. "Please please come on even a useless Reserve like you should be able to finish me off!"

"Sh-shut up."

The growl came out harsher than Hinata had expected. To apologise, he grabbed ahold of Komaeda's face with his left hand, kissing him firmly on the lips as he attempted to move faster. Komaeda eagerly licked into his mouth in gratitude.

Hinata was unable to hold down all of his sweet moans and pants when Komaeda was tonguing his gums like some kind of puppy. He groaned into the other boy's mouth.

How is he enjoying this so much? Surely it can't feel that good down there…

He creeped his other hand down to Komaeda's skirt, sliding his hand beneath it and carefully wrapping his fingers around his cock. His dick was practically drooling with precum, wet enough that he probably could have been mistaken for a girl. Komaeda's eyes widened in trepidation, and he pulled away from the kiss as Hinata stroked his hand down the shaft.

The word didn't even make it past Komaeda's lips, all he could do was mouth "Faster."

Thus Hinata obliged, allowing his hand to glide faster with the slickness of Komaeda’s skin. It felt incredibly awkward, moving his hips desperately whilst jerking his lover at a much faster pace than he could synchronise with, not to mention just how sloppy and pathetic their kisses were becoming with each passing second. At this point they were just pressing their lips against one other’s and licking.

At least Komaeda wasn’t hypocritical enough to make fun of him for his technique.

Komaeda’s thighs were tensing, and his hips were lifting from the table. He was whimpering like a dog in heat, barely breathing little pleads and begs. He was clearly so close, and Hinata could feel his own release creeping through his guts too.

He broke off whatever semblance of a kiss they were still doing pressed his left hand against the table, using it as a support as he practically jackhammered Komaeda’s ass.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, panting and moaning, as well as the squeaking of the table beneath their weight. Komaeda suddenly yelled out, digging his nails harshly into Hinata’s back as his hips thrust up to meet his hand.

His voice broke as he came, white stripes of cum painting his dress shirt as Hinata stroked him through his orgasm. Komaeda was shaking beneath his touch, breaths laboured and wheezy.

A rivulet of sweat rolled down Hinata’s forehead. He kept thrusting his hips, unconcerned with overstimulating the boy beneath him. He was just so close, he could feel it rising in his chest. Just a little more, just a little more and--

“Hinata-kun!”

There was a loud crack, followed by the sound of metal scraping against itself, and suddenly they were both falling to the floor.

Hinata grabbed a tight hold of Komaeda, gasping when they both landed on the cold linoleum. It all happened so fast. With so much adrenaline pumping through his veins, Hinata didn't even notice he had squeezed his eyes shut at some point.

Slowly opening them again, the first thing he did was look at Komaeda. The boy’s grey eyes were open wide in shock, face still flushed red and lips swollen from their activities, but he seemed mostly unharmed.

He pulled out of Komaeda, dick still aching with a need left unfulfilled as he crawled off of him. Komaeda also sat himself up, dusting off his shirt dramatically as though he hadn't cum all over it moments before.

“Hey… are you okay?”

Komaeda’s only response was to look at Hinata with those wide eyes, then to stare straight past him. A few seconds later he was giggling, soon breaking into a fit of raucous laughter.

Confused, Hinata turned around to look behind himself, eyeing the folding table in a crumpled heap on the floor.

He couldn't believe it.

They’d broken the table. They’d broken the fucking table, he’d been blue-balled by a fucking table, and Komaeda was sitting there laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

[slashesotron]

can we pls get more priest avery content, im so thirsty for him 😩😩😩

You can! Have a fic co-written with a friend!

WARNINGS: This is pretty mild as far as material here goes. Father Sebastian is a huge repressed dork. Reader is AFAB and a Satanist. Sexual content; fades to black. Self-harm in a ‘penance’ context. A couple [censored] S/ims screenshots as a treat. Enjoy!

———–

You were dragged to church by a concerned friend. They were just trying to help, really. You had told them you weren’t religious, but they insisted- the confession booth is good for you, they said! Just try it!

And they just looked so earnest you couldn’t say no.

You felt out of place in the church, as pretty as it was, filled with the faithful. You spent most of the sermon in the bathroom on your phone, trying to stay awake… but your friend came and found you, chiding you gently and dragging you back into the fray, into the line for confession.

You just wanted to go home, but….

Finally, it’s your turn, and stepping into the dimly lit, ornately carved little room and closing the door, something comes over you and you find yourself spilling your guts.

About how lonely you are, about how frustrating things have been- about being single, about having been celibate for far too long- it all just slips out like something else is controlling your tongue.

You pause.

“… Sorry. I’m sure this is all gross and weird to you.”

“……….. No, I know.” Comes the soft voice from the outside of the screen.

“… Wait, what? Do you mean you understand what I’m going through? Or…”

“I do, and…. Uh, well. It would be inappropriate from a member of the clergy.”

“… What? You can’t talk about sex stuff? I can never remember how, like, chaste you’re supposed to be…”

“…. I can listen, but revealing my own would be… a breach of protocol.”

“Oh. yeah… I guess it would be weird for you to confess to me. Sorry..”

“Ah, no reason to apologize, my child… go on.”

“I’ve never actually done this before. I haven’t been inside a church since I was little..”

“All are welcome. One needn’t be a member of the church to seek solace here…”

“I just… I don’t know why I was even brought here. They wanted to help, but…”

“Tell me what’s on your mind. Has anything been bothering you…?”

“I’m just lonely, I have been since I graduated… I’m not doing anything with my degree, and I hate my job too.. that stupid video store is gonna close any day now, and then what’ll I do? I dunno… Sometimes I just wish I could escape.”

“I see… I can understand how frustrating that would be… your future seems hopeless to you right now, and that’s a tough place to be in….” He pauses. “Tell me… what would your ideal future look like?”

“Um, I guess… A cozy house with nice windows to let all the sunlight in… A job I don’t hate where I can make enough money to live comfortably… Maybe someone I like to live with too..”

“…. What’s that person like…?”

“Like, hypothetically? Because I haven’t met them yet…”

“Yes, hypothetically.”

“Okay, well…. Cute, tall, I guess… Maybe glasses, but that’s just my type. Um… Besides the superficial stuff, just… Someone who’s sweet and kind and will be patient with. Also hopefully likes nerdy stuff but… I don’t know. Just someone who’s nice.”

There’s a long silence from the other side of the booth.

“Uh, sorry. I’ll just… I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, my coworker is probably waiting, I need to go–”

“W-wait. Please.” Another few beats of silence. “…… Could you go through the door at the back of the aisle? Just…. go quickly, no one should stop you.”

You stop, not quite believing what you’re hearing.

“Wh-… okay? I-I can do that, I guess. Do you want me to go right now, or…?”

“Please.” His voice is soft and nervous.

“Okay, um… I’ll be right there, then…”

You get up, hoping no one sees you, and step through the door without looking back.

A moment after, a tall man in black robes slips through the back door of the confessional, gently closing it behind him… and then he turns. Pale, freckled, a sweet, friendly face. Big round glasses, long, slightly messy strawberry blond (in a tiny ponytail as you saw with his back turned), and a softly anxious smile. “I’m sorry, this is…. very irregular, I just….” He stammers as he walks to you.

You blush, mouth slightly open as you stare at him. You back up against the door when he walks over, in shock. “Ah… Father, I– what’s going on?”

He crosses himself, stopping as you back away. “I swear I mean you no harm,” he says gently, “…. Heavens though are you beautiful…. Ah!  My apologies. T-this is- I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I believe you! I just… nothing like this has ever happened to me before…” You offer him a small smile. “… You’re really cute.”

The flush is instant, deep, and he turns his head away. “I-I, ah” Hands wringing, searching for what to say. “This is… Deeply inappropriate…. But…” He looks at you again, a small, uncertain smile. “… I’m not sure what I’m doing, Lord forgive me, but I felt we had to meet.”

“You don’t have to feel bad, I just…” Now it’s your turn to look away, your eyes fixed on the floor. “This is just unexpected! it doesn’t mean it’s bad.” You’re quiet for a moment, and then- “… Do you want my number??”

“Ah, I…. I shouldn’t,” He answers quietly, looking down at himself. “I don’t have a cell phone, but… you can call the church office between services and I’ll usually answer, or…” He looks up, shy hope in his eyes. “… You could come back to confession any time.”

You laugh a bit, covering your mouth with your hand. “You’re actually going to make me want to come to church…. but that seems a bit excessive. Can’t we get coffee, or…?”

His face falls a little and he looks back down. “I… can’t be seen, um, fraternizing with the congregation… outside of my duties. There would be scandal…”

“Really…?” You frown too. “Well… I guess I’ll be back tomorrow. Can I at least have your name…?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry-” He extends a hand and smiles. “Father Sebastian Wynter.”

“Sebastian…” You roll it over in your mouth with a smile before shaking his hand and telling him your name.

He covers you hand in his with his own, holding it for a moment, his gentle grip nearly burning hot. “It’s good to meet you,” He smiles softly, a touch of pink on his cheeks. “…. Safe travels.”

Your face falls at his words. “Oh… yeah, I guess you have to get back to work… Will you be here tomorrow?”

“I’m always here, not to worry.” A sympathetic smile.

“Then I guess I’ll see you then!” You smile back at him and leave through the same door you came in.

The next day, back in church, you look and feel out of place; the nicest thing you had was something that makes you look like a member of the Addams family. Avoiding the looks you’re getting, you duck into the confession booth.

A soft voice from the other side. “God bless you, my child.” And silence.

“Um… Sebastian, is that you?”

A little gasp. “Oh! You came back…” A moment’s pause- “… Was there anyone else waiting?”

“Uh, i didn’t see anyone else out there. looks like everyone’s just chatting after the service.”

“Ah, then… The door, then.” There’s the rustling of fabric as he moves, and the quiet click of the exit on his side.

“The same one…? Okay…” You get up and head through the door at the back of the aisle, adjusting your clothes as you look up at him. “I thought we were just going to talk in there… it’s nice to be able to see you, though.”

He looks surprised. “Oh, ah- my apologies, I shouldn’t have assumed-” And then his eyes flick guiltily over you, and his eyes widen, and he blushes.

Your eyes go wide too, and you smile nervously. “…What is it? Is there something wrong?”

He jolts slightly with a barely audible gasp, looks away. Crosses himself. “N-no, I just… I’ll need to add to my nightly penance. A pause, and he looks back, his expression warm, almost glowing… with a hint of something off. ”…… You are so very beautiful….“

“Thank you, um…” Confused, and fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve- you do like him but this is pretty weird… “What do you mean by nightly penance?”

He glances back down, nervous again. “Part of my devotion to God is penance for my sins. I can’t do confession, after all,” A short, sheepish laugh. “I… shouldn’t be fraternizing like this, a-and…” He murmurs, mortified, under his breath. “……. Impure thoughts.”

“Is this really that bad? I mean, I don’t even go here regularly. I don’t believe in this stuff… I only came here to talk to you, and the day before someone else took me. Does that really count as fraternization…?” You take a step closer, looking up with a worried expression. “I… really don’t think it’s a bad thing if we go out and get coffee.”

His nervousness clearly increases as you come closer, and he wrings his hands as he speaks. “Y-you may not, my dear, but I’ve quite literally dedicated my life to it… Priests, you see-” He sighs, takes a deep breath, and starts again. “…. Priests take a vow of celibacy. We aren’t supposed to go to coffee with people for… r-romantic reasons.” A pause, and more quietly.“….. E-even if we want to.”

Your face falls, but you don’t move to leave. “…Oh… I see…”

A few moments of awkward silence. “….. We could talk here,” He suggests, quiet, hopeful.

“… In this weird little back room…? I guess we could, yeah…” You’re quiet for a bit longer, and then, “Do you want anything out of this? Or do you just want someone to talk to..? Either one is fine! I’m just… I like to know what I’m in for..”

His eyes flick away, his smile gone. “…. I….. I don’t know…. I….”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you..  This is just a pretty new experience for me, and I just wanted to clarify…”

“N-no! No, you- you didn’t, it’s alright! It’s…” He looks away again, this time blushing profusely. “… It’s also very new for me. Uh,” He gestures to a couple of old wooden chairs. “Shall we sit?”

You look around before nodding at him, sitting on one of them as you look at your feet. “Can I ask you a question..?”

“A-ah, yes, of course.”

“Why did you want to meet me so badly…? Do you usually talk to people in this back room?”

That blush gets worse. “….. No. I don’t. This is… Just a room for clergy…” “…. I wanted to meet you b-because….” He hesitates, looks away, voice barely audible. “…. Because the person you described as your ideal partner sounded very much like me.”

Your eyes go a bit wide, you actually weren’t expecting that… “O-oh. really?? I thought so too, when I first saw you, actually…” You mumble that last part, looking away when you say it.

A long, awkward silence drags on in the little space.

“….. S-so! What are your hobbies!”

“Oh! Uh, I like scary movies and comics! How about you…? Anything besides, uh… God stuff?”

“Ah! I, ah, enjoy the occasional horror movie as well… They’re… A guilty thing, hardly appropriate, but…. Well. Do you… Have a favourite type?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you do? Really? I love slasher films, Scream is my favourite, but I really like found footage too! What about you?”

“Oh, y-yes, those… all of those are good, heh,” He wrings his hands. “Some quieter Japanese horror is also… fascinating….”

“Oh! I just watched The Ring last week!”

��That’s wonderful… That sounds like such a… p-pleasant experience….” Wring, wring. “… It would be so lovely to watch them with you….” He murmurs, looking away.

“I’d love that!” Your face falls. ”… But you can’t, can you? Fraternization, and all that…“

"I’ll… I’ll see what I can do. All we have in the church is an old TV-VCR for the children… If we had a laptop….”

“I have a laptop! But it’s at home…” You pause. “… You know, I’m used to movie nights where we go to each other’s houses…”

He looks aghast for a moment but it melts into thought. “…. If it was after hours… it could…. greatly lessen the risk of being seen…..”

“Yeah, see! We could even go to a bar or something… When exactly is after hours?”

The look of horror is back. “A- a bar? Oh, heavens no-” He clears his throat and smooths his robes over his lap. “Ah… 9 or 10pm would be best.”

“It was just a suggestion!  Sorry… I keep forgetting you’re an actual priest.” You laugh nervously.  "Well, perfect! That’s when I’m usually off work, but… What time is it now?”

He looks over to an old clock- “Ah… about 1pm…. It would be a while from now…. regrettably.”

“Oh! you could just– No, no, don’t listen to me. Nevermind!” You laugh again. “Never mind. Do you wanna just meet tonight, then?”

“W-wait, what-” If this man wrings his hands any more, they’re going to be raw. “Forgive me… what were you going to say…?”

“Ah, uh…. There’s a joke about satanic temptation in here, but… I was just gonna say that, uh. You could skip out on your church bullshit?”

He puts a damn hand to his heart and looks prone to faint “My—! My church–!!”

“N- no, you’re right, that’s… that’s not a good idea….”

He looks away and murmurs. “M-maybe none of this is a… good idea…”

You touch his arm, concerned. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t actually suggesting that you–” He made a little sound when you touched him, and now he’s REALLY blushing. “Oh.”

“I-I guess not. I’m sorry. I can leave.”

“No! Please… N-no. To….tonight. I can… come by. Is…. is that alright?”

“If you want to. Only if you want to… Oh God, I’ve been pressuring you into all this, haven’t I…?“

"N-no! No, I-” He gently grabs your hand in both of his; they’re almost uncomfortably hot. “Please. I….. I’m not very… good. At this. But….” A small smile. “… I’d like to figure it out.”

You take a deep breath, and then another, trying to calm down. “Okay. I’m sorry. Where did you want to meet…? Just my apartment, or?”

“I suppose that would be best… If- If you’d be comfortable….?”

“Yeah, that’s fine..! I hope you don’t mind it being a bit messy… but i can clean before you get there! Here–” Digging in your pocket, you pull out a pen and paper and scribble your address onto it. “Will you be able to find it okay..?”

“Ah- yes. I’m sure I’ll be alright…. um… 9pm?”

“Sure!” Your smile is back for a moment, but it fades again.  "Ah.. I’m sure you have to get back to your, uh, church bullshit.“

He laughs awkwardly this time. "Ah! Y-yes… church, uh, things, heh…” He gets up. “I, uh… It’s been very lovely seeing you again, dear- I mean, ah. I… very much look forward to tonight….”

“Yeah, I’m excited!” You get up too. “I’m… still really sorry if I upset you at all.”

“Oh, no! Please don’t worry… You’re very sweet and kind, I’m simply… not used to this,” He smiles. Awkward silence… then he kinda does a half-bow. “I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

You’re about to leave, but… “Oh… one more thing! What should I call you?”

“Oh! Um… Just… Sebastian, I suppose, as long as we’re out of earshot of everyone here…”

“Okay! Well…” You smile, “I’ll see you tonight.. Sebastian.“

A shaky smile. "Until then.”

He waits for you to leave before following.  Spends the whole day beside himself with nerves; several people ask him if he’s sick and insist he rest, but he insists in turn that he’s fine. He’s so relieved when he’s finally home… But then he remembers why he’s home, and the nerves return tenfold. He takes a shower, makes himself presentable… All the while wondering what the fuck he’s doing. When he rings the doorbell, his heart feels fit to burst out of his chest.

There’s a thump, a muffled ‘shit!’ from behind the door, the sound of the lock clicking, and then there you are, holding the door open. You’d swapped out your attempt at a church outfit for simple black jeans and a t-shirt.

“Hi..! I’m glad you found the place okay, come on in!” It’s a small apartment, opening up into the living room, a decently sized tv, surrounded by shelves and shelves of horror films both on DVD and VHS. To top everything off, there’s a large tapestry covering the window emblazoned with a pentagram.

He’s smiling, but he looks distinctly on edge; even despite the immaculate white button down under a beige sweater vest and slightly darker slacks, the creases down the fronts perfectly pressed right down to gleaming dress shoes. “H-hello!” He answers, stepping inside and nearly falling over at the sight of the flag. He crosses himself, murmuring a prayer under his breath automatically.

“Oh…!  You look so nice, I wasn’t expecting– Woah!” You put your hands out to steady him. “Are you okay? Do you need water??  Here, come sit…” You rest a hand on his back, guiding him to the couch.

He doesn’t budge. Like he’s frozen. He’s staring at that flag… won’t go any closer to it, still murmuring prayers.

“Sebastian…? H-hey.. what’s wrong?“

His eyes snap to you almost like he was in a trance. "I–” He takes a breath. “…I wasn’t expecting, ah- s-satanic m…materials. Blasphemy is, v-very uncomfortable….”

“Oh! Oh god, I’m so sorry, I thought I told you I was a satanist!! Uh… here, I can take it down, okay?” You offer an attempt at a reassuring smile. “And we can just… not go into my room!”

He’s still gazing at the tapestry, now as if lost in thought, not looking at you. “… My dear…. w-why would you want to spend time with someone like me?”

Your face falls for what feels like the millionth time today, and you start fidgeting with the hem of your shirt again. “I could ask you the same thing…“

"D-do…. Do you want me to be here? I…. I just don’t understand…. Are you seeking… salvation? Penance? C-…. companionship? I-I’m not sure if I should be concerned this is a cry for assistance or-”

“I… I thought… Earlier, you said that my ideal partner sounded a lot like yourself, and I…. I don’t know, it’s dumb for me to get my hopes up about things like that, but…..”

You look down at your feet. “It’s not a cry for help, I don’t want to atone for anything… I just like you.”

His voice is very very soft and gentle. “I…. I admit to having allowed myself the unwise reverie of.. something… with you, but…. my dear, am I not….” He sighs. “I do try not to judge. These are modern times, a-and things are changing, but… Would I not be…. an ill fit for you because of, well….?” He pulls a long silver chain out from under his shirt, a large, fine-looking silver cross dangling from it.

“I… I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, I…” You sigh. “You… you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I can tell you’re uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Sebastian…”

He smiles, shakily. “I… I am. But I’m… always uncomfortable. Especially, ah…” He nervously runs a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “E-especially… out of my element. Please understand… I’ve, ah, not been on…. a date, um… well. Ever….”

“Wait, ever? Not at all? Not even in high school?”

He’s blushing terribly. “Er, y-yes. I… I went to an all boy’s Catholic school, and the same for college and seminary school…. And since then, the, heh, the vows and all, so….” There he goes wringing his hands again…

“Oh… Oh, wow.” You blink at him, eyes wide. “You’re dedicated, aren’t you..? Wow…. Well, first, why don’t you sit down…? I can get you a glass of water or something, if you want.”

“Y-yes, it’s… been my life’s passion- oh,” He goes, somewhat hesitantly, over to the couch, and sits primly, clearly feeling very awkward. “That would be lovely, th-thank you very much.”

“… Sure.” You smile a bit, going over to the kitchen and returning soon after with some water, setting the glass on the coffee table in front of him before sitting down next to him. “So! Movie? Video game? … Board game?”

He tenses right up as you sit down, eyes darting to look at you even though he’s still facing perfectly forward, hands folded in his lap like he’s been posed for a family photo. You’re close enough that the scent of you wafts over to him, and suddenly he’s very very glad his hands are hiding his lap. “… The plan was, ah, a movie, yes? Some horror, I believe…”

“Oh, sure! Have you seen Scream? It’s my favorite!“

"I’ve been, ah, meaning to watch those…”

Your face lights up. “So you haven’t seen it yet? Perfect!” You jump up and head over to the shelf, bending down to grab the dvd before popping it in the player and getting everything set up.

His eyes are on your rear before he can stop them, and he’s immediately looking away and berating himself, murmuring yet another prayer to keep himself from temptation. His pants are…. Uncomfortable.

You turn around, smiling and blissfully unaware, before sitting back down next to him. You’re a bit closer to him than you were before, though not on purpose. “Do you need anything else before I start the movie?” You ask, remote in hand.

“Ah, no, thank you! You’re a wonderful host,” He smiles. “Sh-shall we?”

“Aw, thank you!”  You smile at him before nodding and pressing play, setting the remote down and getting comfortable.

He does not move, sitting stiffly like he’s made of wood. He anxiously tries to ignore your proximity and focus on the movie… But his breath catches ever so softly at the first onscreen shriek and spray of blood.

You look over at him, tilting your head. “… Are you okay? You said you liked horror, but… is this too bloody?”  Scooting closer to him, you hover a hand over his arm, worried

The slightest jolt. He looks over and smiles. “Oh, no, I’m fine. Please don’t worry!” His pants are growing painful.

“Well… just let me know, okay?” Smiling at him, you settle back onto the couch without moving back over.

Someone else on screen dies a gory, noisy death. His heart is pounding out of his chest as he desperately prays for strength to control himself. But the next death is too full of deliciously real screams of pain and fear, clothing torn, skin showing, blood pouring over it so tantalizingly that he breaks. “E-excuse me,” he breathes, and nearly trips over himself hurrying to the washroom, practically bodyslamming the door closed. He can’t get his pants open fast enough, already a slick mess of pre anyway, and he half-sobs silently into his free hand while the other strokes a desperately quick pace.

“W-wait, Sebastian, are you–?” But he’s already slammed the door before you can catch him. Getting up and pausing the movie, you head over to the bathroom door, knocking softly. “Sebastian…? Are you okay? Please tell me you’re not getting sick…”

He turns on the water. “I’m fine!!” He calls, almost even-voiced. “Just, nature calls! Heh,” Can a meteor strike him right now please? You being at the door amplifies his shame to a fever pitch, which, for some reason, his dick doesn’t seem to object to. An image of you bending over in front of the TV flits, unbidden, over his memory…. It’s immediately changed to less clothes… bare skin… blood over that beautiful smoothness, and- His whole body jolts as he curls in on himself, biting his fist to stay silent- successfully, thank God- and he catches his breath for a moment before running his messy palm under the water.

“O-oh, sorry!” You call, a bit embarrassed now. “You got up so quickly, I thought you had to throw up or something…” Muttering another apology under your breath, you get up and head back to your spot.

It’s a few more minutes before he comes out; having washed his hands and fixed himself all up. “Sorry about that,” He smiles, “I, ah, suppose I’m a little nervous. Shall we continue?”

“That’s okay!”  You reply quickly, unsuspicious. “I didn’t mean to, like… pretty much follow you into the bathroom, haha. I was just worried this movie was too much! Are you sure you want to keep watching?  It gets bloodier.”

“Ah, I assure you, it’s fine. I’ve seen many movies of this sort…” He sits back down, folding his hands primly in his lap again… With the left one covered.

“Alright then!” You press play, glancing over at him. “…You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable though, right? I worry…”

“Oh of course! You’re very kind….” But nothing untoward happens for the rest of the film.

As the credits roll, you get up, bending over again to pop the DVD out of the player and put it back on the shelf. “Wanna do something else?” You ask, without turning around.

He tries to look away, but ends up looking right at the flag again… So he stares at the floor instead. “Ah… It’s getting late, I should… I should probably be getting back….”

“Oh…” Your shoulders slump as you get back to your feet, turning around to face him. “Is it that late already…? I was having so much fun with you, I didn’t even notice…. It’s been a while since I’ve had any guests, haha.. Here, um… I can walk you to your car…?”

“Ah… I’m very sorry, my dear,” He smiles apologetically. “It’s just that I need to be up at 5 to be ready for service… D-don’t worry, though! We could do this again!”

Your eyes widen a bit. “Holy shit, 5 am?! Gross…” But suddenly you have an idea, and you make a mental note to check your work schedule to see whether or not you open tomorrow. “I’d really like to do this again..! I can put the tapestry away next time!”

“Ah! A-as long as there’s something else covering the window, I suppose….”

He stands there awkwardly, not sure what to say next.  "Er…. See you at church….?“

"I was going to walk you to your car, if that’s okay?” You move over to the door, opening it for him. “The least I can do…”

“C-certainly, heh…. Such a fine host…..” He follows, his nerves amping back up fast, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

You laugh a little, shutting and locking the door behind you as you lead him down to the parking lot. “Which car is yours…?”

“Th-this one, here we are…” It has standard keys… No autolock… It’s also beige. He turns to face you, smiling. “Thank you, you. It’s been a lovely evening….”

“Yeah! I had fun! I really hope you did too. I’ll see you again soon, and maybe next time I can make us dinner or something..!”

“Oh! Th-that would be, ah, very nice…. How kind of you to offer.” The sweet, excited, earnest look on your face melts his heart, and something twists deep inside…. I don’t want you to look at anyone else like that, ever!

He inhales a little sharply, then smiles. “I suppose this is goodnight…”

“Yeah…” You nod, but don’t move to leave, looking very hesitant. He pauses too, but finally he smiles and turns to get into his car.

“Good night, Sebastian…”

You watch him drive away with a dull pain in your chest, but your heart’s still pounding hard when you think about surprising him at the morning service tomorrow .

And he gets home a wreck. His trip to the bathroom at your house is only the first that night, and by the third he’s in tears… He pays his penance viciously afterwards, so much so he isn’t able to sleep for hours from the pain. But he’s there in church in the morning before anyone else, a beacon of light as always.

You didn’t manage to sleep at all, too nervous that you’d sleep in and miss the morning service, but there you are, all dressed up in your best attempt to look nice for him. Too afraid to sit near the front and risk getting caught up in conversation with someone, you find a seat in the back and wait for the service to start.

The congregation hushes as Sebastian steps to the podium; he smiles and nods in greeting to everyone, about to begin his sermon- when he spots you, who blends into the crowd here like a peacock in a bookstore. His jaw half-drops, moves like he’s trying to find words, but they’ve all left him; last night all comes back and smacks him over the head with the force of a flying brick, and in a second he’s blushing and acutely aware that he now needs to stay behind the podium…. he reaches forward to rest his hands on it, to steady himself, gain some composure- but all it does is remind him of how incredibly sore his back is. People are starting to murmur, confused. Finally, he smiles again, and apologizes, charming and collected- nothing like the stuttering mess you’re used to.

His sermon is remarkably captivating, the audience not making a peep throughout… and once he’s finished, he leads them through prayers, then blessing newcomers to the church and taking communion. Finally, he heads to the confession booth, getting entangled in conversation many times along the way… until he slips inside and the door closes behind him.

You wait a while, this time…. It seems like half the congregation has something to get off their chests. People scurry in and out, heads down, one after the other… but finally, people are starting to disperse and you have your chance.

“Hi, Sebastian… I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have come here, I just wanted to surprise you!”

There’s a soft gasp at the sound of your voice, interrupting his quiet standard greeting. “O-oh! H-hello, dear…. Er, d-did you enjoy the service….?” He asks, sounding heartrendingly hopeful.

You hesitate. “Um, I felt really out of place, and I wasn’t sure what was going on… I didn’t know any of the prayers, but…. You were so passionate about what you were doing! I really enjoyed that….”

He looks a little concerned at you words until you praise his sermon, and then he lights up a little, colour dusting his cheeks. “Ah… Y-you’re so very kind, thank you.” He hesitates. “….. I could teach you the prayers… We could do your blessing and communion right now, even…”

“You could…? Would you really teach me? ….. Um, what’s the blessing? And ‘communion’?”

He lights right up at the first half of you words- I could save you after all!! - but he stops dead “Ah… I’d anoint you with holy water, and then you take the bread and wine that is the body and blood of Christ, if you choose to let him into your heart to save your soul…”

There’s another pause, this time much longer and much more uncomfortable. “Uh… the holy water thing is fine, I guess, but… Does my soul really need to be saved?”

“W-well…..” He stares at his feet, wringing his hands again, voice quiet. “An unsaved soul goes to the fires…. The idea of you suffering like that for eternity is….” His breath hitches, and he looks away.

“Well, I mean…. I don’t really think that’s going to happen to me? I don’t even really think there is much of an afterlife, and if there is, I’ll probably party it up in hell anyway. Because, well, you know. Satanist.” .

The look he fixes you with is pure, unfiltered worry and heartbreak, genuine concern, big blue eyes glassy in the low light. All he can do is blink a few times, opening his mouth like he wants to say something, closing it again… And finally he sighs and looks back down. His voice cracks slightly. “I…. I see.”

Your eyes are wide and apologetic, asking for forgiveness. “Wait! All I was trying to say was that I won’t suffer, so please don’t worry! I’ll be okay…”

“I’m….. I’m afraid that’s not how it works in the eyes of the Lord, m-my dear, but….. I cannot- will not- force you. I, ah-” He heaves a sigh, bringing a shaky smile back to his face as he runs a hand through his hair. “D-did you… did you still want to learn the prayers…?”

“I… yeah! If it would make you happy…!“

And his face falls again. ”…. Ah. If it’s only for me, then… that’s alright. I, ah, appreciate your… consideration… you’re very kind.“ You frown too, hearing the dismay in his voice. You don’t want to be involved in this stuff at all, but maybe it was a mistake to tell him that… you just want to make him happy.

He tries to stretch a little and flinches… then flusters. Right. Last night…

"Er-” He starts again, awkwardly, “-I must attend to the flock for several more hours, but, ah…. If you wanted to…. watch another film tonight…..?”

You perk right up at his offer. “Really? Yeah!! I can make dinner for you and everything!”

He smiles, a little tightly, but he eases after a moment. “That’s, ah, very generous of you, my dear… What time would be appropriate…?”

You sigh, releasing a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “It just depends on when you’re free tonight!”

“I believe… I should be free at eight o'clock, provided all goes well… would… would that be alright?”

“Yes!! I’ll be ready then! Do you remember my address? ’ll cook something I think you’ll like, I’ll take down my tapestry, I’ll pick a good movie…! I’ll make sure you have fun!”

“Ah, y- yes. I do. You’re very kind, you…. I’m… Very grateful.” A pause. “…. I should return to my duties… Until tonight, then?”

“Okay! I’ll see you later!” And with that, you duck out of the confession booth.

That night, you’re setting two plates of spaghetti and meatballs onto the coffee table, along with a basket of garlic bread and two glasses of water. You aren’t sure if he likes soda, and alcohol was definitely a no-go, so… Water was the safest option there. With the DVD menu for a movie playing at a nice low volume, that tapestry safely tucked away, and a few candles lit, you do one last check to make sure everything is in order.

At eight o'clock exactly there’s a crisp knock on the door, and there he is again- a nice sweater with a collared shirt under it, pleated slacks, shining dress shoes, his red-golden hair tied up neatly at his nape, his bangs partly tucked behind his ears. He’s smiling, looking as nervous as ever, and he’s holding…. A fruit basket.

You jump a bit before going over to open the door, resisting the urge to hug him and just giving him a bright smile instead. “Hi, Sebastian…! Come in!!” You step aside to let him in before going to sit on the couch, patting the spot beside you. “I technically have a kitchen table, but I thought it would be more fun to eat while we watched movies!”

“Oh! How… novel!” He smiles, clearly having never done such a thing before. He hands over the gift a little awkwardly, not sure what to do with his hands a moment later. He sits where you indicate, folding his hands in his lap just like the first time. “It smells wonderful, you…! Ah, what are we watching…?”

“Thank you! This is pretty…. Oh, It’s another horror, a bit lower key this time. It’s about ghosts! I really like it, hopefully you will too.”

“My pleasure, not at all, not at all… I hope you, heh, enjoy it…” Another awkward pause. He obviously had no idea what to get you. “Ah, ghosts? That sounds…. Interesting…. Not about the Holy Ghost, I take it? Heh….”

You laugh a bit, still holding the fruit basket on your lap. “No, it’s… kind of hard to describe. You’ll see, and it’s not bloody or anything.” Pressing play and carefully putting the fruit basket aside, you pull your plate of spaghetti over to you and take a bite as the opening credits start.

He just laughs a little and takes his plate, but then pauses- “Ah, might there be a napkin I could use, dear?”

“Oh!” You set your plate down immediately. “Of course! Let me go grab some!” You hop up and rush into the kitchen, returning shortly after with a small stack. “Here you go!”

He stares at them, confused, for a good second, then hesitantly reaches out and takes one.

“Ah! T-thank you….” He unfolds it, all the way. Looks at it despairingly. Drapes it over his lap anyway.

You tilt your head, confused. “Is something wrong? Sorry if they’re shitty– uh, bad, I mean.”

“Oh, ah, it’s alright! Please don’t worry, dear. Thank you! Let’s say grace-” He takes one of your hands gently as he bows his head. They’re soft. Surprisingly so, for how big they are, and so warm it almost feels like he might have a fever. “Bless us, oh Lord, and these gifts-” He stops suddenly. “…. Ah, I- I shouldn’t- I don’t want to offend-”

The moment he grabs your hand, you drop the fork that you had just grabbed, and cringe as it clatters loudly onto the plate. For some reason, you didn’t even think about the fact that he’d want to say grace… More importantly, Sebastian is holding your hand. It takes a significant amount of willpower for you to not do anything weird, but you allow yourself this blissful moment- before coming back to reality. “No, it’s okay! If you want to, please go ahead.. it doesn’t offend me at all,” You offer gently.

He’s just staring at you, expression nervous but unreadable, the pulse felt through his palm strong and fast. He looks at you, then at your as if willing himself to let go, but he doesn’t, and the seconds tick by, and that beat only speeds up. He drops you hand and stands suddenly. "E- excuse me,” He stutters, and the bathroom door slams a second later.

“Ah… Sebastian, are you–?”  This time you don’t make any move to catch him or follow him, in the hopes that he’ll feel less uncomfortable. A heavy sigh, and you lean back on the couch, staring at the spaghetti on the table in front of you. And then hear something- it’s quick, and it’s quiet, but it almost sounded like a moan. More specifically, someone trying to muffle a moan.

You freeze. Oh my god, no. That couldn’t have been.. he’s not…. he can’t be! …but what if he is?

Despite your mind screaming at you not to, to sit back down and just wait for him like a normal person, you slowly stand, making your way over to the bathroom door- and this time unmistakable now that you’re closer, definitely Sebastian, definitely stifled. You knock softly.

The bathroom goes utterly silent, and there’s a few pregnant seconds before anything else. “I- I’ll just be a moment!” He calls, clearly trying to sound normal, but his voice is strained and from here you can hear that he’s breathless…

You stand there trying to figure out what the fuck you’re supposed to say. What are you supposed to say when your date ends up doing that in your bathroom?

It’s now or never.  "…Sebastian, I… I would. Um. I’d like you to come out here, please.“

Clearly trying to convince you that he’s only in your bathroom to relieve himself in the regular way, he makes an attempt at a joke in reply- "Haha! I’m, er, I prefer privacy when nature calls, j-just a moment-”

“… I heard you. Please come out here.“

Dead fucking silence.

For a while, it seems like he’s just going to pretend he doesn’t exist. Then finally, finally, there’s the sound of the tap running, then the soft click of the doorknob, and he comes out looking like he desperately wants to be struck down by holy retribution. Whole body stiff. Arms at his sides. His hair is in his face, but his head is partly turned away anyway, and what skin is visible is so incredibly red it looks like he somehow got a third-degree sunburn while he was in there. He says nothing.

You aren’t looking at him, either. There’s an uncomfortable silence before you take a breath, measuring what you’re about to say.

"I… suppose I just– I don’t quite understand why you need to hide in the bathroom and take care of yourself like that when you’re on a date with me.” Flushed, the back of your mind still screaming at you, you step forward, close enough to kiss him if you leaned up.

“I mean… I’m right here.”

His breath catches, barely audible, as he states down at you with wide, almost wild eyes, but he’s looked away again a second later. “I–!” He already sounds choked up. “I’m not supposed to do anything like this! To be here! And yet here I am, letting my sinful desires get the better of me, I– I can’t even show my gratitude for your hospitality! I should- I should go-” And he moves to extract himself from between you and the bathroom door.

“What?! No, please–” In a moment of panic and tearing up, you grab him, both hands holding tightly onto his upper arms. “I want you to stay! You said you aren’t even supposed to be here, but you drove here, twice! You listened to me that first day in confession, and you wanted to meet me in the back room! So you must want this as much as I do…!”

The second you touch him, he freezes; and he stays like that, still as death, until you’re silent again. Moments pass, his eyes never wavering from you.

Your voice softens, gaze sliding down to the floor along with your grip on his arms. “….Don’t go. I really want you to stay, and um…”

“….. I could help you take care of that.”

….. Slowly, hesitantly, he raises a hand to your face, fingertips ghosting down your jaw with agonizing slowness… His wide eyes flick down and fixate on your lips, and his thumb follows, brushing over the soft skin with reverence and disbelief. you can feel his hand shaking.

In complete awe, your eyes lidded and lips parted slightly, you melt into his touch.

“Sebastian…” Your voice is soft. “Come closer…”

His breathing has already picked back up, the tremble in it audible, but he does as you ask… Shuffling awkwardly forward and curling an arm around your waist, but there’s still space between your bodies. He starts to lean down, painfully slow like before, but soon enough his face is only an inch away from you, flushed deeply, sweat beading on his temples, breath heavy as if he’d already been making out for a while…. though his eyes are still as big as ever.

Unable to wait any longer, you grab the front of his shirt and yank him down, standing on your tiptoes as you press your lips to his. Everything you’ve been too afraid to tell him pours into the kiss. Your arms wrap softly around his neck and you pull him closer, one of your hands moving to run through his hair.

Barely a second after your lips touch, he convulses with a strangled groan, fingers digging into you back as he nearly doubles over- not breaking the kiss, but effectively dipping you by accident. He pulls off a moment later only to gasp into your shoulder, the shaking even worse now.

You decide not to ask about it, not wanting to make him feel worse than he probably already does. Moving your hand down to rub his back, all you want to do is comfort him. You’re tempted to ask him if this is better than hiding in the bathroom, but you keep your mouth shut, opting for a sweet forehead kiss instead.

He just clings to you for a few long moments, his trembling never fading, his hair slightly damp, skin misted, head down…. until suddenly he’s kissing you again, aggressively, but with a side of near-adolescent uncoordination, his hands running up you sides as he groans, furtively groping at your chest, pulling at your clothes.

You let out a tiny sound of surprise, melting into his touch. Your hands find his shoulders before stroking slowly down his chest, then you pull away for just a moment.  "Sebastian.. let’s go to my room–“

He almost doesn’t seem to hear you for a few seconds, too distracted with getting his hands anywhere he can reach- but he relents, pulling back just enough to give you a little nod, all burning eyes and red ears. The intensity falters slightly, his characteristic nerves showing through, but he follows where you lead.

Pulling urgently on his wrist, you lead him into your bedroom, hoping the altar in the corner is inconspicuous enough. You throw yourself onto your unmade bed, and with another excited tug, you’re pulling him on top of you. Eyes glazed, unfocused, lips parted in a pant as he finds himself barely balanced over you; he’d be mortified by how obvious his hardon is like this (never mind the mess) if he wasn’t miles away right now. He’s back to it in a blink, your shirt  pulled up and his hands on your chest, then his mouth…. He’s clearly never done this before, and it’s like he wants to do everything first, hands wandering with fervour and impatience. The only hesitation is when his fingertips graze the top hem of your underwear- he pulls his hand away, pauses for an uncertain second, and goes back to kissing you instead.

"Sebastian…” You breathe, your voice soft, giggling at the sudden touch, but your laughter quickly dissolves into happy moans. Despite his inexperience, you’re very much enjoying yourself. Reaching a hand out, you stroke through his hair, gently encouraging him to keep going. Your breath hitches in anticipation upon feeling his hand move down for just a moment– before he pulls away. You open your mouth to protest, but you’re cut off by another kiss before you can say anything. Grinning against his lips, you push him away just enough for you to speak. “Why’d you move your hand? I want you…”

That purr from you, that tone, drags a moan out of him as you fingers catch on his hair tie, spilling loose red-gold locks against his burning face. “A Thiarna, déan trócaire orm,” He hisses desperately against your neck, gone to hide and lay sloppy kisses against your skin as his hand snakes down between you- and right down the offending garment. The sound out of him at what he finds is accompanied by another shudder, different this time, palm slipping up slowly, then down- and then he yanks your underwear off and himself down, devouring you before you can blink.

---