#kudos to him for pulling through i could never

[tacitusauxilium]

She smiled softly, relieved that he actually listened to her. Yusuke had received massive kudo points even if he didn’t realize he was receiving anything. “Of course not.” Fuuka stated as she helped close the curtain and had her back to the curtain to give him even more privacy. She brought her thumb to her mouth and bit on it carefully.

Fuuka could sense Yusuke easily and knew he was safe and fine and yet—she had never told him about her Persona powers. Then again, how the hell was she going to bring that into……whatever the hell this is? Friendship? Dabbing into a relationship? She ran her fingers through her hair and groaned. It didn’t help she was finding him good looking and vice versa.

Hearing the curtain pulling away, she turned on her heels and felt the warmth of her cheeks heating up again. Lovely. Now he has the abs of Akihiko-san. How the fuck am I suppose to look at this man in front of me and not freak out?

She was just staring at his body and abs a bit too longer than she should have. “Y-you look great, Yusuke. A-and you even listened to me. I… just, wow.” She wanted to say so much more but felt like she was going to be vulgar or sexual with her words. Fuuka gulped and wanted to touch his abs, but kept her hands still on her chest. “…I can see how women can fall for you,” she bit her lip and blurted out, “i-including me…”

Just his hard working hands clasped gently around one of her hands as her heart skipped a beat. She quickly nodded to his statements and question. “Th-that would be nice. Make sure to pick trunks that are easy to see in water. Neon or a lighter shade of green since water can camouflage…” Fuuka blushed again, rambling when she felt nervous was a cute but annoying habit of hers.

“…I guess I’ll undress and buy this…” She watched as his hands left her and once he was out of eyesight, she closed the door to the dressing room and sat down on the bench. It had been years since she felt her heart racing like this. Fuuka stood up once she felt her heart calming down and reached for her phone in her bag. “…maybe just this once…”

For the first time, Fuuka decided to take a selfie of her in the bathing suit and once she finished, looked at the picture herself and smiled and exited out of the app as fast as she could. This was what she is calling insurance. In a matter of minutes, Fuuka made sure to grab the two piece and placed it back on the rack as she put her own clothes back on and exited the room. Fuuka could see Yusuke’s head bobbing around people and a little giggle left her lips. She kept the door open so that Yusuke could get in and out.

[vampdes]

DES says . . . love when he looks at me w love in his eyes euugh. feeling romantical bc of my boyfrie!! heehhehehe, i love him omfg.

ANYWAYS, kudos to my bf for inspiring this: how my MHA faves catch themselves falling in love with you ft. bakugou, deku, todoroki, iida, & kirishima. | masterlist : ★.

bakugou catches himself thinking about you at night, in the hours where he’s supposed to be sleep in order to have enough beauty rest for class tomorrow. not like he’ll be able to focus anyhow, not with you passing him notes, repeatedly clicking the heel of your shoe against his, humming the song which gets him humming—he groans in frustration, fights against his duvet that usually lulls him into a peaceful sleep, and tosses onto his side. he should, very much so, be asleep. but then, his phone begins to vibrate against his nightstand. it’s 1:34am, as his alarm reads in vibrant, red numbers, so it could only be you texting. against his better judgement, he picks it up, grimaced at the blinding white light that greets him, immediately turns down the brightness, then opens his phone, which immediately opens your text thread to him—most left unanswered due to the fact that reacting to your messages with a thumbs up or down is more than enough in his mind—that’s all about whether or not you should buy yet another plushie to add to your growing collection of mini-katsuki’s. he catches himself smiling against his better judgement. you send him a picture of you, decked out in a hoodie, his hoodie that he’d known you had ‘borrowed’ (stolen) from his wardrobe but had yet to see until this morning, shorts that have ‘B.K.’ printed on the side in chunky, block formatting, and with a plushie, the size of an extra-large squishmallow, of him in your lap. you were making a hand-heart above the plushies chest. whilst his thumb was hovering over the image, he accidently hearted it. you immediately responded with an uproar of shocked emojis and exclamation points. jesus, he let out a soft chuckle, you’ll be on his ass tomorrow. he wouldn’t want it any other way, though.

deku catches himself enthralled in your laugh. he’s funny, sure, but not that funny—you think so, though. you cackle, you snort, you howl, you slap his bicep with the back of your hand and double over with short, stuttering exhales of breath leaving you. he finds himself laughing with you, his shoulders bouncing with ever soft, breathy laugh that leaves him, and, at that moment, considers you contagious. everything you do and everything you’ve done, from pulling him up the ranks like a rocket, creating the funniest, silliest, cutest inside jokes that only the two of you get, to hugging him with your arms in a way that makes him feel comforted and sheltered and at home when he finds himself in a rut of emotions, and buying him new, hand-decorated journals whenever you catch him running out of space in his current ones, is undeniably contagious. he’s utterly happy to have stuck by your side during all of U.A., becoming a hero, and earning the spots the two of you have come to be in today, because if he didn’t, he’d never have fallen quite so deep down the rabbit hole of love you’ve led him through. he blinks, mentally surfacing from the pool of love he was utterly drowning in no matter the time, and there you are: smile on your face, your glossed lips spread wide, your body leaning forward, practically pressed against his side, and your head tilted. you say something, most likely another fact to add onto his many ones, and he does his own head-tilt, furrowed eyebrows, and somewhat puckered lips. he says what, you giggle and poke the tip of his nose with the tip of your finger. you say pay attention and he, even though he finds himself lost in you, says he will from here on out.

todoroki catches himself adoring you from afar. funny thing is, he doesn’t need to. you’re, just like with the rest of your shared friends, friends with him. you greet him in the morning with a personalized handshake, a newfound, yet always confusing in the first few seconds, nickname, and a gorgeous smile. you wave to him in the hallways everyday no matter what, because you, as you’ve said, found yourself interested in him. he never asked you to elaborate for his brain began to override itself with ideas of what you could’ve meant by such a thing. you share your homemade lunch with him everyday, yet again, in order to ‘gossip’ about the ‘certified underdogs’ at your agency. you, with lunch, bring him dinner. todoroki finds himself not wishing to cook most nights nor having the time to do so when he finds himself wanting to be with you instead of continuously eating whatever fills his cabinets. all in all, you consider yourself rather close to him, but he cannot, for the life of him, consider himself close enough to you. not even when you��re nothing but a touch away, close enough to where he could trace his hands against the swell of your food-filled cheeks, or when you’re cuddled against him during your rare night-outs. he wishes to melt away your worries and warm you on the coldest of nights. he wishes to kiss you, to hold you, to love you. even though he finds himself surrounded with your presence every waking moment of every day in which he yearns for you, and he could never want it any other way. yet, he finds himself doing so from afar. he wants to be within the bounds of your heart and never leaves—he burns with the heat of an overwhelming amount of volcanoes when he finds the realization of your evergrowing crush on him.

iida catches himself loving the newfound version of himself that you bring out of him. you are the direct opposite of him—brash, loud, outgoing, personable, carefree. you, as per what you told him, consider him a tiny, miniscule triangle inside of a hexagonal cage that has no way out. very specific, yes, but you told him that to his face, and he couldn’t find himself more offended. you told him he’s a rule follower, a goody-two-shoes, a certified square for goodness sakes! you promised to change that. you made that promise years ago during your shared time in U.A., and you continue to bring him out of his hexagonal cage everyday. at first, it was hard. he wouldn’t join you for midnight karaoke in your dorm, he wouldn’t respond to your text past 8pm, and he wouldn’t sneak out no matter what. but just like a flower, iida grew continuously. you presented him with something more interesting than those boring books he had stuck up his ass, you presented him with adventure and danger. going out of your way to trick him in order for a night on the town was the only way. outraged, upset, disappointed were the emotions he felt brewing inside him at the time where he met you in the courtyard. those emotions grew into a storm of something he’d never felt before. that night grew into nights which grew into days which grew into months which grew into years and years and years of fun. a tradition was created. a foundation was formed. a sheltered, shielded heart was melted. he is different, he is everchanging, and he has you to thank for it—he only wishes the status of friendship changes go something more. . intimate. maybe that’d be the first thing he changes for you.

kirishima catches himself falling for the way you dote on him no matter the situation. he’s a pro-hero with his own agency and an on-deck medical team for whenever he is fresh out of a fight where his ass was handed to him. he knows of his medical team, he knows they are professionals, he knows that glittery band-aids will not help the scars heal. he knows all of that and a bag of chips, but he, instead, allows you to dote on him like a puppy. he enjoys you worrying over him, fretting about his newly born scars, and hand-feeding him food. you coo at him, you braid his hair, you cradle his face, you kiss the tip of his nose, you cuddle him. even when he’s at the top of his health, you dote on him in other ways. you buy him gifts, you hold his hand whenever you wish, you invite him over for weekly dinners, you let him stay over in order for the time to roll over into breakfast, and you hold him. frame-wise, he is bigger than you. yet, when you cuddle, you’re big spoon. he’s stronger than you. yet, you never stop to prove that you can carry twice your weight (he ends up carrying it in the end, but he’s continuously amused by your efforts). he finds himself wanting you to be soft with him even though you treat him as though he’s as light as a feather. when you hold him close, he presses impossibly close against you. even though it is somehow intimate, it is otherwise platonic. friends. friends who. . do this, dote and love and care and craddle and do everything, with one another and share this amount of chemistry. out-of-this-world intimate, considered to be romantic, not at all platonic. kirishima has so much on his plate, but he would rather die than have you consider him as just a friend.

© vampdes . do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[ladylooch]

Messing Up a Good Thing - Jeremy Swayman

Summary: Jeremy and his best friend have been in love with each other since college. With a new, secure future on the horizon, suddenly taking this new leap seems as inevitable as them.

Word Count: 4.5k

Main Trope: best friends to lovers

If there is anything I’ve learned about life in the 26 years, I’ve been on this Earth it’s that life really is all about timing. 

Both the right time and the wrong one. 

Since I met Jeremy Swayman, we’ve always seemed to fall into the latter category. 

Jeremy and I met at the University of Maine our freshman year in college. I was the quiet, reserved wallflower and he was the athlete running into our literary class at the last possible second. He sat down next to me and immediately asked to borrow a pen and piece of paper. I took one look at his Maine hockey jacket and resisted an eye roll.

Another athlete skating his way through a college degree on his way to the NHL.

But the next class, Jeremy brought in my “borrowed” pen and a piece of fresh, notebook paper.

“I know you have college ruled notebooks, but I only have wide so… let me know if you want two pieces.” He said as he tossed his own notebook onto his part of the table. I stared down at the two, torn sheets of notebook paper, unsure what to do with them or him as he pulled out the chair to sit next to me again. The room was still mostly empty.

“Um, there’s more spots open. You don’t have to sit here.” I point out to him.

His hazel eyes had stayed on me for a beat too long and then he shrugged. 

“Why mess up a good thing?”

Our “good thing” extended out into being partners for any small group discussions or projects. Jeremy would have the most ridiculous takes on the dystopian novels we suffered through that had me belly laughing so hard I was crying. Then when the professor would call on him, he would present this wildly accurate portrayal of literary themes. He would get kudos and I was left breathlessly in awe of how funny, smart, and talented he was. 

I don’t think I really need to say this, but yeah, I fell in love with him quickly. 

Through college, we never even got close to dating. I pined after him agonizingly for the first year we were friends, but he did what college athletes do and built up a decent roster of prettier girls than me. Rather than compete with that, I took my place by his side as the friend. It’s a place I’m more comfortable in anyway. Jeremy had a girlfriend or two throughout college. I had a few boyfriends, but between the two of us, nothing really stuck.

After his junior year, Jeremy turned pro. The distance sucked but we made it work. Whenever I could, I dragged myself up and down the East Coast. But more than that, we FaceTimed every single day that we were apart. We still do now, even though we live in the same city again. As I was wrapping up college in Maine, my entire job search focused on Boston. I ended up getting a job at a local engineering firm in an entry level position right as I graduated. Jeremy came to cheer me on and gifted me the most gorgeous Louis Vuitton brief case as a token to my hard work.

Although it’s never been spoken between us, I’m smart enough to know that we’ve both had more than friend feelings for each other over the years. It’s just never been the right time. One of us was in a relationship. Or Jeremy was too busy. Or he was going to turn pro. Or I was contemplating a move oversees to London with my company. 

The timing has never fit. As I go through another swing of being hopelessly in love with him, his contract situation is the latest road block. What if it doesn’t work out between him and the Bruins? Am I going to uproot my life for someone who isn’t even mine? I hope it doesn’t come to that, but the longer this drags out, the less it feels like Jeremy really has control in this situation.

I rub at my eyebrow as I work through editing an important, department wide email about a new process change. I pick at a few stray eyebrow hairs above my eye lid, trying to ignore the consistent thump of a tennis ball against the wall. 

Thump. 

The ball pops off the neutral paint to my left and my dog, Grizz, rushes after it. He snaps his teeth a second too late then runs back across the room to try to catch it before it hits Jeremy’s hands.

Thump.

Grizz’s paws scratch against the floor. 

Thump. 

“Jer?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you not?” I ask without removing my eyes from the screen.

“Is this bothering you?”

“Yes.”

Thump.

“Does it make it hard to work?”

“Yes.”

Thump.

“If I keep going will it mean we get lunch sooner?”

“You really need to go back to being employed.” I mutter to him.

“Hey! I’m trying here… they’re being obstinate.” He huffs.

“You’re trying?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow and looking over at him.

Thump.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve picked up the phone and talked to them?”

“No.. Lewis said I shouldn’t.” He speaks of his agent that I worry is playing more hardball for his own interest and less for Jeremy’s.

“I think you should.”

“Are you saying that so I stop throwing the ball?”

“Yes.”

Thump.

I grab a stress ball from my desk and whirl it at him. He catches it as effortlessly as he catches 99 mph slap shots. 

“Get out.” I point towards the front door to my apartment.

“No! I can’t be alone!” He wails dramatically, falling to the rug. Grizz bolts over to him and begins lapping at his face aggressively. His tail whips and flails at Jeremy’s bent legs. “Ow! That thing is a weapon!”

With the ball discarded away, I am able to go back to editing my draft communication memo. In a few clicks, I send it off to my manager to review, then lock my computer screen.

“Lunch?”

“Yes. See what happens when you let me work? I get done faster.”

“I’ve learned nothing from this.” Jeremy says from the floor where Grizz is still licking his face.

“You know he licks his butt right?”

“Dogs mouths are cleaner than humans.” Jeremy insists.

“I know what that dog eats. There is no way.” I shake my head, then head over to the door to grab Grizz’s leash. He’s a great patio dog and will be happy to come with us to a dog friendly spot down the block. “Let’s go. I have to be back by 1 for a team meeting and you’ll have to decide if you can be quiet enough to stay or if you’ll need to go back to your place.

“Booooo.” He wails. I throw him a look to silence his complaining. “I’ll take a nap with Grizz in your bed.” 

My stomach flip flops at the thought of Jeremy in my bed. He’s been there plenty of times, both with me and without. The thought of sliding into those sheets again tonight and inhaling his lingering scent has a low buzz forming in my body.

“We need to get this contract done.” I mutter. As much as I love having Jeremy around more, he has been incredibly distracting the last week. It’s been hard for me to avoid my feelings with his constant presence. He’s been paying for all my meals, ordering groceries for us, taking Grizz out for walks, and doing odds and ends tasks around my apartment. It’s like we are a couple. Except we’re not.

Nothing reminded me of that faster than when he was showing me different hydroponic herb gardens and his Raya notifications kept blowing up from some girl named Ava. That’s such a hot girl name. Ava. Ugh.

With Grizz leading the way, Jeremy and I head down to a lunch spot with good soups, salads, and sandwiches. It is a hidden, unknown spot in a quiet part of the city so our chances of being bombarded by fans is slim. I head up to the counter to order for us and Jeremy sits with Grizz on the patio. Grizz loves all things patios, sunshine, and Jeremy, so his happy, signature smile takes over his whole face as he lazily lays sunning himself on the concrete. The man holding his leash looks equally as adorable with his black sunglasses, tightly trimmed beard and dark hair. 

From beneath those dark lenses, I can feel hazel eyes on me. They watch my approach in a way that has my palms starting to sweat. Moments like this, I wonder if we could ever be more. What it might be like to sit across from him as more than just friends. But then the worst case scenario smack me out of fantasy land. 

I’d rather have Jeremy as a friend than lose him to circumstances or realities of how difficult relationships are for professional athletes.

“Did you get my son his bowl?” Jeremy asks.

“Your son?” I snort.

“He’s practically mine too.” 

“Yet you’re never around when he’s suddenly barfing at 2:00am after giving him too many table scraps.”

“Alright. Fair. I’ll sleep over every night I’m in town so we can co-parent this dog.”

“I doubt Ava would like that.” I purse my lips the second the words are out of my mouth. Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

“Ava?” He asks, shaking his head slightly. “Who is that?” 

“Seriously, Jer?” I whine back slightly. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what? Who is Ava?” He holds a confused hand up, palm lifted to the sky.

“The girl who was blowing up your Raya inbox the other day.” 

“Oh.” He shrugs as a staff member comes to bring our meals to us, Grizz included. He starts scarfing it down quickly. “I’m off Raya again as of yesterday. Guess I don’t remember that one.” 

“He’s off Raya again, folks.” I make a joking type announcement to the patio. 

“It doesn’t seem to have what I want.” Jeremy says with a shrug after a bite of his turkey sandwich.

“You’re picky.” I point out to him.

“Okay, what’s your excuse?” He asks as he chomps on a chip.

“I’m career driven.” 

His eyebrows shoot up and he laughs.

“You try to quit every other week.”

“I could too if Grizz’s food wasn’t so expensive.” Never mind the rent in Boston.

“Ah. Blame the perfect dog. Mama is so mean to you.” Jeremy scratches between Grizz’s ears. “Dad would never.” He whispers to Grizz who licks his chops after demolishing his bowl. 

“You’re weird.”

“We have a connection. Also you only have this dog because of me. So I feel like I get to claim half of him.” It’s true. My first winter in Boston, I struggled. Jeremy helped by encouraging me to look at dogs for companionship. It helped for the lonely nights and to make friends at dog meet ups, pet stores, and neighbors in my apartment building. 

“I guess I should be asking for puppy support then? Mr. Millionaire."

“Send me a bill.” He chuckles around another chip. One hand stays between Grizz’s ears, scratching at him there until he sighs heavily, leaning into Jeremy’s leg. 

Jeremy is the only guy Grizz has really shown interest in my life. Of the few dates I’ve had here or there in Boston that have made it to meeting Grizz, he hasn’t liked a single one. Jeremy is a little too smug about that fact. It adds to his puppy daddy complex.

We continue to banter easily to each other as we finish lunch. Jeremy grabs a refill of his Arnie Palmer then we walk home to my place so I can get back to work. The rest of the afternoon, Grizz and Jeremy disappear into my room. I have to wake Jeremy up at 3pm because his phone has been buzzing non-stop on the kitchen counter where it had been charging. He groggily comes out, hair mused, eyes soft from sleep. 

“Oh! Damn!” He mutters, rubbing at his face as he clicks on his phone, bringing it to his ear. “Sorry I was- yeah?” He stops, listening. Slowly, a huge grin breaks out onto his face. He starts silently fist pumping, giving me a thumbs up and a smile that makes me melt in my spot. 

I love when he’s happy. I love when he’s this happy because I know what’s going to happen next.

After he clicks off the phone, he starts to laugh and cheer excitedly.

“Staying in Boston, baby!” He exclaims, crossing the kitchen to me. I throw my arms around his shoulders and he picks me up. His hands go to the back of my thighs to support my weight. Grizz barks and yelps excitedly, pawing at Jeremy’s thighs. “8 more years here!” He fills me in.

“Wow!” I exclaim with a bubbly laugh. “Wow, Jer… Congratulations.” I rest my cheek on his shoulder as he slows us down to sway together instead of of spin. “I’m so proud of you.” He stops his movements completely, causing me to pull away. We both realize how close our faces are. Yet we don’t move. Our lips hover mere centimeters apart. His part slightly. Our eyes search each other. I blink, looking away first. He clears his throat, releasing my thighs so my feet touch the floor again. 

“I loved fun-employment with you.” Jeremy says as I avoid his eyes by petting at Grizz to calm him down. He still pants happily, jazzed by our excitement.

“I can’t say the same.” I tease for a moment. Then shake my head. “I loved it too. Now, back to reality.” We look at each other. 

I mean it in a few more ways than hockey. Back to the reality of pining for each other and never doing anything about it. Back to sharing him with the world. Back to missing him when he’s all over North America. 

Back to business as usual. 

+ + +

I haven’t seen Jeremy in a few days now. He went right from my place to his place so he could take care of what needed to be done. The next day he was back at the Bruins offices, making social media videos, chatting with the media, and putting ink to paper to solidify the next four years of his life.

He texted, telling me we will celebrate soon. 

I’ve worked, walked Grizz, and tried to push aside this weird, grey sadness that has filled me since. I’m happy about this. I’m happy for him. But something is still missing. His life is molding firmer into all his dreams coming true and I feel like I’m lagging behind… being left behind is maybe a better way of saying it. 

Tonight, Jeremy played in his first game back in Boston. He asked if I wanted tickets - I guess they’re in high demand with the rest of his friends too. He wanted to make sure I could be there if I wanted to be. I said yes. 

He won, but admittedly looked a smidge off on his timing. A few snuck through that he normally would have had easily. It made me nervous sitting in TD Garden, wondering what Boston fans were thinking. Were they blaming him? Were we all moving forward? 

If so, why did it feel like my feet were stuck in cement.

After the game, I waited for him. He had a bunch of other people wanting to chat with him and congratulate him. They were all going out after the game with some of his teammates. I watched from the sidelines, soaking it all in. The way he makes sure everyone feels included. How he makes sure to ask every person something about their life and what they are up to. When he gets to me, he hugs me and exhales heavily. I can feel him relax in my arms. He holds on a few moments too long- we both do- then he pulls away, rubbing my back.

“Are you coming out with us?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I figured. Work.” He murmurs, understanding completely. I’m always tired on Friday from the work week. I’m a much better version of myself on Saturday mornings. 

“Thank you for the invite though. I’ll see you…?” I trail off because I’m not sure. He’s about to head on the road again.

“I’ll bring you coffee tomorrow?” He suggests.

“At noon?” I chuckle, knowing he’ll be out late and unavailable earlier.

“Fair.. I’ll bring you… something.” He chuckles.

“How about you call me when you’re up.”

“Better idea.” He confirms. “I’ll walk you to your car.” 

“No, I’m good!” I park in a special lot garage for families, so there is no need for concern of safety. I don’t even have to go outside. Jeremy frowns, glancing back at the group of his friends then he nods.

“Okay. Text me when you get home.”

“I always do.” I murmur, reminding him of our agreement, no matter where we are in the world to tell each other when we are safe. I toss a small wave to him, then a bigger one to the group who tries to get me to stay as I spit out excuse after excuse. But I do need to get back to Grizz. 

No one is more excited to see me than that fluff ball and he practically takes me out at the legs when I get home. We go outside so he can get his bathroom break and some sniffs in. Then it’s time for the couch and a mindless TV show. I pick Brooklyn 99 and despite the chuckles it pulls from me, I’m falling asleep before I know it. 

I’m not quite sure how long I’m sleeping, but it feels quick when a knock at my door is awakening me. I jolt, disoriented and confused at who it might be. I glance at my phone, blinking the sleep away. I see a few texts from Jeremy, heading to the door, assuming it’s him. 

I look out the peep hole and am confirmed with the sight of my best friend.

“Hey?” I say, opening up the door. I squint at the hallway light, hating how intrusive it is to my sleepy eyes. Jeremy stands on the other side in a jacket, black T, dark jeans and gray sneakers. In his left hand is a bottle of champagne.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” His voice has a huskiness to it. I briefly wonder if he is drunk. My eyes float up to his but they’re clear and sober.

“Um, I fell asleep watching Brooklyn 99 on the couch.” I admit. “Long week.”

“I probably didn’t make it easier.” He murmurs, hazel eyes softening as he takes in my tired face. I shrug in response then move aside for him to enter the apartment. No he didn’t make it easier. But I wouldn’t have traded this week with him for anything. It was magic in the way time with him always is.

“Thought you were going out tonight?”

“I did.” He says, setting the bottle on the counter. He motions to it, asking if I want some. I nod. He leaves the chilled bottle there then goes to the cupboard my glasses are in. He pulls out two stemless wine glasses, then goes back to the bottle. “But turns out, you’re the only one I want to celebrate with tonight.” A small, meaningful smile tilts the corners of my lips up. 

“Mhm.” I murmur as Grizz comes over, tiredly nudging at Jeremy’s hand for some scratches. “You sure it’s not for him?”

“I’m sure. It’s you.” He says simply. 

My heart seems to pause for a beat in my chest then begins rapidly pounding. Jeremy works open the bottle of champagne. 

“Woo!” He cheers at the controlled pop. Then he is rushing through pouring out two glasses for us. “Cheers, cheers.” He murmurs, handing me one. We clink our glasses together and take sips together.

“How did it feel tonight?”

“Good. Thank you for being there. I don’t think I got to say that at the arena.”

“You’re welcome. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Yeah. You’ve always been there for the big stuff. It means so much to me. You know that?”

“I do.” I nod. “Not many people stick together through moves, new cities, new jobs… It’s like everything has changed over the years, but not us.”

“Yeah, not us.” Jeremy echos. “Why mess up a good thing?” He repeats like that second class we had so many years ago now. I nod slowly. That may have contributed to our friendship continuing over the years, but it’s also become my biggest excuse. Maybe his too. 

“Wanna sit?” He asks, flicking his fingers towards the couch. I follow him there, tossing the blanket I had around my shoulders to the side. I click at the TV, turning the volume down on the episodes that have kept rolling while I slept. 

“Do you want to watch something else?”

“No.” Jeremy says. He takes a sip of his champagne, then sets it off to the side. He grabs my cup, doing the same. I frown in confusion. “I got you something.” He informs me, reaching into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a black jewelry box, putting it between us on the couch. “As a thank you for putting up with my annoying ass all these years, but especially the last few weeks. This all would have been so much harder without you. Every time I was spiraling, or unsure, you talked me off the ledge. You’ve always believed in me and this feels… as much yours as it is mine.”

“I feel lucky I get to share all this with you.” I tell him honestly. My fingers touch the velvet box, then pop the top open as I pick it up. Hugged by the plush fabric is a necklace with his number. It’s gold with a sleek black filling- Bruins colors- and obviously expensive. 

This isn’t a gift you get a friend. I know this and as I raise my eyes to his, I know he does too. He slides closer to me on the couch. Our legs touch. He reaches for mine folding them into his lap to get us as close as possible.

“What are you doing?” My voice sounds foreign, laced with wonder and worry.

“I don’t want to be friends anymore.” He whispers. He hesitantly reaches for my face as I sit stuck to the couch. His fingers brush my jaw and I shiver. My eyes close briefly, trying to absorb the difference in his touch now. I can hear every hitch of his breath as he pulls in a deep breath. “Babe, I’m in love with you…” The last word trails off between us. 

I’m overwhelmed by the emotions that flow through me. Internally, I’m sprinting for joy. I’m throwing up from anxiety. I’m screaming like I just won the Stanley Cup. Then it all comes crashing to a halt as I realize this is it. He’s taking the leap. We’ll either come out of this together or lose everything. 

Despite that, I know what I need to say.

“I love you too.” My voice cracks a bit so I clear my throat. “I always have.”

“Like a friend?” He whispers back. He hangs on every sound coming from my mouth like I hold the key to his survival from this point on.

“No. So much more than that. But I’m afraid to ruin this.” I admit quietly as his thumb traces my mouth. He watches his appendage go around my lips, his slightly parting before his eyes raise to mine. His bright hazel orbs have a look of finality in them.

“I’m not.” 

Then his lips collect mine in a tentative kiss. That first touch of our lips rocks my world. It explodes planets. It shifts moons and stars across my galaxy until the center of the universe is Jeremy Swayman. His right hand comes up to cup my neck, then he rolls his tongue out of his mouth to taste more of me. 

“Yes.” He murmurs into my lips. “So good. So right.” He pulls me in tighter so I collapse onto his chest, then he lays back on the couch with me on top of him. My knees slide to the sides of his hips. I straddle him confidently and start to kiss him back in the ways I’ve been envisioning for years. His hands wander everywhere on my body. They don’t stay suck on my hips; he takes his purchase of me like he owns me now. 

Fuck, I want him to own me. 

My hips roll against his lap and his run down my back to my ass, taking a hearty squeeze.

“Shit.” He suddenly says as he pulls away. My heart leaps into my throat. “Too fast.” He says breathlessly. 

“How can that be too fast? We’ve been slow burning for seven years, Jer.” He chuckles, looking up at me above him. He reaches up to tuck my hair back behind my ear. His fingers collide with my cheek and he smoothes the tips of them down my face to my lips swollen from his.

“I want to be able to tell our kids in another seven years that I did this right.”

I still, eyes growing wide at the confidence he says those words with. I put a hand on the center of his chest, feeling his wild heartbeat beneath my palm. I swallow thickly, then slowly nod.

“For our babies.” I agree, then slide off his lap. 

He sits up next to me, chuckling as he does. Grizz sits over on his bed, watching us with curious eyes.

“Our first baby doesn’t seem surprised.” The nonchalantness of it all is so Jeremy. It’s so us, really.

“I don’t think anyone will be.” I answer as I tuck my feet under my thighs. Jeremy reaches for the necklace box that fell to the floor when we got carried away with our kiss.

“Probably not.” He finally answers my statement. “Turn, please. Wanna see me on you…” I hum in appreciation, holding my hair up so he can secure the clasp. The weight of the necklace can’t even hold me down as I float on cloud 9 from how right this feels - the resolution of his contract, the necklace, him.

Our dog lazily smiling at us across the room.

Jeremy wraps his hands around my stomach then pulls me back into his body so we are cuddling together. Our glasses of champagne sit forgotten on the coffee table. 

All we care about now is holding each other in this way for the first time.

Jeremey’s hand trails up to my face, cupping my chin to turn it so he can kiss me again. This one is softer, more patient, knowing we have time to explore all of this together. His fingers move from my chin to his number on me. He traces the single digit then quietly whispers. 

“Finally mine.” 

I smile, unwilling to pinch myself to know if this is all real or not.

“I’ve always been yours.” 

The way Jermey beams back at me is all the proof I need to know it is anyway. 

More hockey fics of mine are here for your enjoyment.

[starkspondwater]

Please please please pretty please some Mysterion x Hero! Reader/New kid!! 🙏🙏🙏 Or civilian

I was a little nervous to start this one and then it just...ran away with every fiber of being. I loved the idea of a civilian getting into the whole hero thing and next thing I knew I was 6 pages deep into a document with more story to tell

Um...It is a bit longer than some of my other stuff I've posted on here, and I hope you like it! I wanted some tension (even though I'm not the most experienced writing it) and I hope everything comes across nicely! I may have crashed out once or twice trying to write this...but I'm deciding that I'm really proud of it!

Summary: Kenny's been doing this hero thing for a long time. Hell, he could even say he's been built for the dangers him and his team have had to face over the years. When someone new steps up, someone intriguing, he can't help but feel a pull, one that makes him think this all might be a bad idea.

Word Count: 6728 words

Putting on a Mask - Mysterion x New Hero!Reader

It started with a simple mugging.

Walking home at night had never been something that worried you before. Streetlights buzzed as the blanket of night surrounded you, shop windows dark and empty. It was comforting in a way, the silence. Days were always filled with noise, busy to a degree that had your mind screaming into a void of stress and anxiety, only quieting once your front door closed and you were back home.

You didn’t notice the other scuffle of steps not far behind.

It wasn’t until a flash of something out of your peripherals did the alarm bells in your head ring out. You felt a forearm clasp around your neck, yanking you backwards into another body much larger than your own. Through the shock you didn’t even hear the vague threats made by the mugger, only knowing that your air supply was feeling thin. Warm breath hit your ears, jostling you into fight mode. Flight never suited you.

Elbows came down hard into a paunchy stomach. As the attacker hunched at the contact, you slammed your skull backwards, a sickening crunch clearly heard. With his forearm loosened, you tore yourself away, ready to turn and kick when you were rudely interrupted. 

You had only seen glimpses of Mysterion, the masked hero staying out of the limelight while his friends took their glory. You knew his logo well, seeing the vibrant green question mark spray painted around town in support of his actions. And now here it was again, only now it was actually on the hero in front of you. 

In the split second it took you to spin around, Mysterion had the mugger up against the wall, the collar of his dark turtleneck clenched in his fists as he held the perp up. The man had the audacity to sniffle and slobber as though he had been the one wronged here, though possibly it could also be due to the blood spurting from his face. Either way, you didn’t care.

You were a little put off by the lack of a response from the hooded figure. He simply went about securing the mugger, deftly tying his arms back and dialing something into a small device. With only a glance and a nod your way, Mysterion leapt up, leaving you alone with a sad excuse for a criminal. Police arrived minutes after.

Lying in bed that evening, all you could think about was how…satisfying it was to get the upper hand. With a smirk, you considered how technically you were the one to take care of the guy, Mysterion just happened to be there and contacted the police. You had it handled. And he didn’t even give you kudos! 

If all it took to be like him was to wear a cool outfit and beat the shit out of bad guys, it really wouldn’t be so difficult. Most of the crimes around here were petty anyway, and you just proved that you had no issue taking care of yourself. With that spark of an idea, you sat up and got to work.

_____

Kenny was pissed. 

He had been on patrol all week, surveying the alleys and grimey crevices of South Park that he knew contained the filth of society. His eyes were keen, able to catch even the slightest hint of trouble. And yet, there was none to be found.

What the fuck?

He knew things were going on. Shady back alley deals and dangerous lurkers were being reported all the time, the radio Toolshed set up giving them ample advantage over the failing police force. It wasn’t until he heard murmurings among his civilian friends that he knew someone new had stepped into their game.

They didn’t give themselves any sort of name, only a calling card. A bright red X left at every scene. It was bold, and utterly stupid. Whoever this was didn’t realize what they were doing, the types of people they were messing with. There was more going on here than low level criminals with too much time on their hands…there were people that had lofty goals and horrible minds. That’s how he got to be this…thing in the first place.

He needed to find this wannabe hero and make sure they stopped what they were doing and they stopped it now.

A flash of burgundy under a streetlamp caught his attention. Violet eyes scanned the area and with ease he spotted you. Your getup was simple, tones of red covering your body from head to toe with a hood much like his own concealing your visage. Following from afar, Kenny kept you in his sights.

You had been trailing this guy for a while, one Frank Geene. He had been siphoning money from the local crack baby charity, reports of misused funds and grand purchases coming in from trusted sources. The man was cruel, ugly, and in your eyes needed to be knocked down more than just a peg. 

This time of week he fancied himself a gambler, cavorting with like-minded individuals in the basement of Price’s Goods. You were careful to keep yourself hidden, knowing the crowd he ran with. You had already sustained injuries the last time they caught you sneaking around and you were determined not to be found out again. Thankfully, his detail was off for the night, a treat for his men as he had himself a fun evening.

“And just where are you going?” A deep voice startled you, your body twirling automatically toward the source. There in all his purple glory was Mysterion. 

“I’m working.” Hand on your hips, you stared down the masked hero. Part of you was relieved you had decided on wearing your own mask. You don’t think you could’ve been this confident if he could see your face.

He was a little surprised at your tone. Normally when caught unawares, the other heroes at least had the wherewithal to look a bit sheepish at being caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. 

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” Kenny kept his voice low and deep, the familiar scratch in his throat at the effort. “It’s not safe to be out and about like this.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Mysterion,” you said with a glint in your eyes, “I’m a big kid, I can take care of myself. After all, I’ve been doing it thus far already.” 

With flourish you turned, cape sweeping out behind you as you skillfully climbed the rain gutter of the next building. One thing about your new little gig was you were getting a hell of a workout, climbing and running around getting easier by the day.

Scampering across the roof you could hear muffled steps behind you. So he was going to follow. Okay. Cat and mouse it is. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, you found your stride, approaching closer and closer to your destination. You felt a small amount of pleasure that the mystery man was still right behind you, silent with an increasing aura of frustration. 

Now to lose him.

Slowing, you waited for the right moment. As you felt the heat of his touch at your elbow you swiveled, catching him off guard. You ensured this moment would happen right at the edge, and dropping down you kept your focus on sticking your landing. With a slight flip, you got your balance back only to turn into a full on sprint around the corner, jumping over various strewn items along the alleyway. 

You knew at this next junction what window would be wide open for your use. You had opened it yourself just the day before under the guise of being an employee, thankful that batting your long eyelashes did just the trick you needed. Running past, you swung yourself up and over the windowsill, softly landing on tile and ducking down. 

Within seconds you heard him. Mysterion slowed, his steps coming to a complete stop only meters away from where you sat hunched down. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, his confusion felt even through the wall of the building. With a quiet ‘damn!’ you heard him continue his search, footfalls eventually disappearing. 

You finally let out the breath you had been holding, straightening up and taking in the small back storage room. Now, it was time to get to work.

_____

Kenny had nothing to go off of. None of his friends had actually seen you before on their own patrols, and on top of that were not the least bit concerned that someone new was trying their hand at playing hero. They knew better than anyone else it wasn’t safe, especially not for someone who had zero special abilities. 

You were grating on his mind, but he couldn’t help but feel a little exhilarated. He had years of chasing bad guys under his utility belt, the different catches and rescues running together into one big blur. But one night following you and he couldn’t get it out of his head. Hands in his hair he sighed.

“You alright, dude?” Stan was at the other end of the couch, tools spread out before him on the coffee table as he cleaned them. For someone who didn’t care much about doing his own laundry, he took care of those tools like they were a part of him. In a way they kind of were, Kenny mused.

“Just thinking about X.” Without an actual alias to go off of the group had resorted to just going by the calling card, something Eric found slightly hilarious and made a dirty joke of every time. Stan finished rubbing the gunk out of a drill before setting it down.

“I mean, is it really a big deal to have someone else out there?” Stan questioned, moving his body to face Kenny a little more, “Another set of eyes looking out doesn’t hurt, Ken.”

“It might hurt them. From what I can tell they aren’t like us,” Kenny sighed again, tugging on his  blond locks. “You should’ve seen them the other night. They can get around well enough but I could see the strain it had on them. They were breathing hard enough I’m sure anyone down the road could’ve heard!”

“But they still outsmarted you,” with a gleam in his eyes, Stan smiled. “Is that what this is? You’re upset that someone actually got away from the big, bad Mysterion?”

“No! Christ man, I’m not Cartman. I don’t have that big of an ego. I just…What if something does happen?”

Stan huffed out of his nose, the slight familiar whistle from the action making Kenny stifle a chuckle. Upstairs they could hear Kyle and Cartman arguing over something for the third time that week, muffled shouts unintelligible from the other end of the home. 

“If something did happen, it wouldn’t be your fault. There’s no way they went into this not knowing the risk. They’d be stupid not to.”

Kenny pulled his hands away from his head, an unsettling feeling beginning to weigh on his chest. There was something about you he couldn’t put a finger on, something that drew him in like a moth to flame. 

“For their sake, I sure as hell hope so.”

_____

“That’ll be $5.80, sir!” the bright and cheery smile you kept on most of the morning was starting to hurt your cheeks. You were in customer service hell but at least you were paid to be there, you only wish they didn’t schedule you so goddamn early.

That was the one drawback of your new venture you had resigned yourself to. Late nights hunting for nefarious activities meant that your sleep cycle suffered far more than it ever had in your life- and you used to pull all nighters to study! 

Yawning, you greeted the next customer, plastering on another smile. Ringing up items, the beep of the scanner tuned out after hearing it for so many shifts, you began your usual round of pleasantries. How has your day been? Anything exciting going on? Beautiful weather outside! Blah blah blah…

When you looked up into violet eyes you froze, a pack of gum stopped halfway through the scanner. In front of you stood a tall, blond man, one you had seen many times since you moved into the area. He was a flirt and you tried not to interact with him too much by dodging questions and letting your voice fade as you bagged his things. He was lithe, but from the muscle definition of his arms you could tell he was stronger than he looked. 

You normally didn’t look at him long but there was something about those damn eyes. They were so familiar to you.

“Hello?” Waving a large hand, the man had on a sly, steadily growing grin.

“S-sorry! Um, its just been a busy day is all!” You were slower in your motions as you finished bagging things up, giving the man his total. He stood there gazing at you for a moment. Opening his mouth to say something he was quickly prompted forward by some friend calling out from the exit. With a wink and a smirk thrown your way, he gently took the bags and left.

Something about that man’s eyes took hold of you, like you had not only seen them before but that the fact that you had was extremely important. You searched your memory for any instance of him. Classes, work, parties, anything at all that could’ve tipped you off, but nothing came to mind. You had a way with faces, especially good looking ones, and knew this would bother you the rest of your day.

As the next person in line took their place you pushed those thoughts to the back, but the image of those violet irises stayed.

_____ 

Your feet dangled over the ledge as you ate your sandwich. It was a quiet night as far as ass kicking went, only having to deal with some guy trying to steal a car. He didn’t even have a proper slim jim, simply trying to wedge some bit of metal into the window crevice that only served to set off the car alarm. 

You didn’t mind as you had bigger fish to fry. Your tip from the week before didn’t lead to much, just an empty basement with nothing but rat shit trailing along the corners. You did find one thing, however: a small playing card. The queen of hearts. 

Billie Queen was a vile woman, old and past her prime but acted as though she was hot shit on a stove. You recalled seeing her around town demanding some sort of special treatment for one thing or another- what she was doing with Geene however still baffled you. At present you sat overlooking the tiny building where her apartment was situated, window in perfect view.

You didn’t even have to turn to see who landed beside you.

“I told you not to do this anymore.”

“And I told you I can take care of myself,” you shot back, taking another bit of your sandwich.

Mysterion sat down, mirroring your posture. In the chill of the evening you could feel the pleasant warmth radiating from him. You both sat in silence as you watched the window, the flicker of a womanly figure occasionally rushing past. Eventually, you heard a sigh from your unwanted companion.

Kenny knew this was a bad idea, but somehow he got the feeling you and him were very similar about these sorts of things. He didn’t have many options with this small fascination of his.

“If you’re going to do this, will you at least let me accompany you?”

“No! Why?” Your neck twisted to gape at the man. The gaul of him to suggest that, it’s not like you were some kid playing pretend in the backyard, dammit!

“What you’re hunting right now? This is serious. It’s not playing cops and robbers like you have been.” His eyes darkened as he considered his next words. “What you're messing with could get you killed. And will. Unless you have some help.”

A shiver ran up your spine. 

You knew what you had been getting into was dangerous. The petty crimes were one thing, but as you got into more serious shit and bruises began to litter your body, reality had set in. More than once you had a close call with the sharp end of a knife, narrowly dodging as you traded your own blow. 

But something about the danger only made it more addicting.

Knowing that you were a part of something bigger, something that was bringing good into the world even if it was at your expense was a beautiful thing. Isn’t that why people like Mysterion did this in the first place? If he wanted to help, who were you to say no?

“Alright. But no coddling me.” Your eyes were steady as you addressed him, voice hard. “What are we going to do about her?”

“Her connection to Geene is shallow at best, but it was smart to come here. If anyone is going to have a little dirt on the bastard, it’ll be his little affair.”

The thought of the man’s wife, living in ignorance of not only her husband's crimes but also of his infidelity, puts a sour taste on your tongue. 

“How do we go about getting that information from her? I scoped out the entire place, there’s no way in besides breaking and entering. From what I can tell that lady isn’t going to bed any time soon,” Sure enough, Billie was still strolling past the window clad in a  fluffy robe, phone in hand as she talked heartily with someone on the other line.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” poking around the side of his belt, he brought out a grappling hook. “Second window from the left allows access into her place, and from experience I know she never leaves it locked.”

“You’ve…done this before?” You were curious. Of course the heroes of South Park knew things no one else did, upending more of the criminal underbelly than what was released to the public, but how much did they know?

“Ms. Queen has a long list of connections and thankfully, she documents them quite well.” With an attractive smirk, he leapt and headed for the next building. A glance back told you all you needed to know, that this affiliation with one another was happening and you were expected to follow his lead. Jumping down, you did just that.

He was a silent man, nary a word exchanged as he worked with you. You caught yourself ogling him as he maneuvered his grappling hook with expertise, shimmying up into the window and waiting for you to follow. To your surprise, Ms. Queen wasn’t living in some dingy apartment, having bought out most of the floor and creating an over the top bachelorette pad filled with animal prints and gaudy perfume. 

By the end of your expedition, information in hands, exhaustion took hold. Despite not doing much exertion, late nights and shitty meals took a toll on your body, and as you slagged behind the caped lad he noticed.

“Get home and rest up. Won’t do any of us any good if you’re not well.” 

“I told you not to coddle me.” Straightening up your back, you attempted to shake off your tiredness, but the aches remained. “I’m fine.”

“We passed this same building three times now.”

Well what do you know- the red brick building with toys showcased in the window was indeed one you had passed several times now.  This prick was testing you.

“Listen here, buddy, I know my body better than-” you suddenly found your backside hitting that very same brick building, Mysterion looming over you. You had never been this close to him before.He was tall and spindly, and god he smelled good. While most of his face was covered, you did take note of the small scar trailing down his chin, old and faded from years past. 

You watched as his eyes roamed your masked face, taking in the contours you allowed to be shown. You were thankful for the low lighting, hoping it was enough to hide your flush away from his intense gaze. For a brief second, his eyes darted down towards your lips before coming back up once more.

“If you push yourself too hard, you’re asking for trouble to find you,” his breath hit your face as he spoke, “You’re tired. We can resume later, I’ll find you.” 

With that, Mysterion ducked away, his cape following after. As you went to say one more thing, a need to get the very last word in even if he did catch you off guard, you were met with an empty space. Huffing, you made your way home, warm bed sheets calling your name.

_____

Kenny was confused. 

He had planned on talking to you, yes. He had planned on being gentle at first, before really grilling you about the dangers of what you were doing. He was prepared to say whatever he needed to if it got you to cease your solo operations. 

So why did he invite you to work with him?

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was the goofy flirt to all his friends, but the second that uniform was on his body that melted away and all that was left was Mysterion. All that was left was his will to protect. To sacrifice. He didn’t do partnerships, especially not with strangers playing dress up. What was it about you?

“Kinny, what the fuck are you doing?” Cartman stomped down the stairs, his heavy steps making the structure underneath creak. 

“Nothing, just…trying to enjoy a day off I guess.” Days off for the blond came few and far between. From the time he was 14 Kenny had worked his ass off, starting with odd neighborhood jobs, shitty fast food restaurants, and eventually moving into whatever allowed him his time to work at night. He worked most days, only allowing himself a day off a week to fully relax and reset. 

It wasn’t a good system, something Kyle constantly nagged him about, but he was used to it. He was used to a lot of things, like his damnation.

As he sprouted into adulthood, Kenny got better at avoiding the icy grip of death. But inevitably, as it always did, it would come for him, its embrace more like a constrictor as it dragged him down. He hated it. He hated feeling the pain and not having an actual release. He hated that he always came back time and time again, no one remembering the anguish they had expressed the day before as they witnessed his body breaking in front of their eyes. It was always as though he had been through nothing at all. That he was nothing.

It was enough to drive him into madness, but he wouldn't let it.

That’s why Kenny did this. That’s why he worked tirelessly to make his home a safer place because then at the very least his curse could do some good. It did good for Karen and Kevin, his friends and their families, and even the strangers he knew nothing about but felt an obligation towards.

“Wanna come with me to grab some grub? Kyle forgot my cheesy poofs again, fuckin-”

“Let’s go!” Hopping up, Kenny grabbed the boy’s arm and steered him to the door. A distraction sounded real nice right about now, and he wasn’t going to waste that time with Cartman’s bitching about their friends for the millionth time.

_____

It had been a few weeks since you began working with Mysterion, and it was driving you crazy. 

The man gave absolutely nothing away to you, he was like a brick wall. You attempted small talk, after all if you were going to work with the guy you should be able to converse, right? You only received short, vague answers. At the very least you were learning a lot about the lay of the land, from places to survey the town to setting small traps for the usual suspects. 

Watching Mysterion move and work was, while you hated to admit it, attractive. He was strong and capable, and you had to practically keep your eyes in your head from how hard you stared at him one night while he took down a rather large crook. You found yourself constantly wanting to know more about him, but every evening he’d dismiss you the same way, telling you to get a good night’s rest and that he’d find you later.

If only you knew he was dealing with his own conflicting feelings. As Kenny watched you grow and learn he felt a sense of pride. You were far stronger than he expected, and even with as much as you talked he found you endearing. More than once he had to remind himself not to get too close, no matter how much he itched to lift that mask of yours. He knew things were never going to work out for him, as every night he dismissed you the dread that something bad was to happen filled his insides, black and bitter in his soul.  

A good night’s rest was easier said than done. Today was…anything but good. No amount of sleep could help you out of the hole you had dug yourself into and even if you were to fall into a coma you wouldn’t be able to claw yourself out of it.

Despite actually getting more than a couple hours of shut eye, you still found yourself slogging through work, your arms feeling heavy with every item you scanned. It didn’t help that the usual facade you put on had completely slipped, making one particular rude man offer his unwanted suggestion of a ‘nice pretty smile.’ Utter bullshit.

Even a nap after your shift didn’t help, but that didn’t matter to you. You had business.

“How serious are you about this?” Mysterion’s voice was gruffer than normal, a strain to it that you weren’t expecting. His eyes were intense as they peered at you from behind his mask, hood casting ominous shadow on the rest of his face.

“Why are you asking me that?” You quirked an eyebrow. You thought all the work you had done would prove that you weren’t just messing around here, and the idea that he still just saw you as some kid was starting to piss you off. “I’ll have you know I have done a lot for this town so far you can stick whatever you’re thinking up your-”

“I know what you’ve done, X,” you froze at the name, allowing the hero to keep speaking, “I know the good you’ve done, I’ve seen first hand how hard you work. But what I have planned tonight isn’t just capturing some guy and leaving him for the police. These men are trained to kill.”

You felt your stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“I know no matter what I tell you, you’re going to go after them,” shaking his head, Mysterion came forward, placing both hands upon your shoulders. The weight was anything but comforting. “When we go in there, I need you to do something for me. Do not be a hero. If things fall apart, you get out of there as quickly as possible.”

“What about you?”

“You don’t worry about me. I’ll have my own way out.” 

Mysterion caught you up on his plan as you jumped from rooftop to rooftop. By his calculations, Geene would be at his most vulnerable after 1am, just as his lookouts changed shifts. It was a short window to get in, but that was to be the easy part of all of this. 

The proof needed to blow things out into the open resided in the big boss’ office, which was kept locked tight. To get to that office meant traversing through two floors of the building without being spotted. If they were, it was going to be a hell of a fight, and Geene’s men were known to play dirty.

You both watched dutifully from the building across the way, silence between the two of you. It wasn’t helping your nerves about the whole ordeal, especially when a yawn broke out from your lips, Mysterion shooting a look at you.

“Sorry, long day at work. I’m fine.” You said quickly. It wouldn’t do to be dismissed before things actually started.

“...You have a day job, should’ve known,” a chuckle from the hero startled you, your eyes wide in surprise. “Makes sense with how tired you are most days.”

“You try dealing with people all day,” chuckling with him a warm feeling filled you, “I actually had a man tell me to fucking smile today.”

“Asshole. At least doing this I doubt any mugger would say that sort of thing to you.”

“I don’t know…I don’t much prefer being called a dumb bitch but it’s part of the job I suppose,” eyes crinkling you took in the man next to you. It was strange how many details escaped your notice before, the light slope of his nose, the pretty pink of his mouth, even the light scar running past his chin.

Without that scowl he actually looked pretty cute, not that he wasn’t before just now…he seemed softer. 

“Think we’ve ever run into each other outside of this?” You joked, but in the back part of your mind you were actually curious. You saw most of the town every week, surely the two of you would've come face to face at some point. Mysterion thought about it for a minute, his head tilted.

“Probably, I tend to talk to pretty people when I’m not wearing a mask.”

That caught your attention. In the time that you started working with him, he’d stayed professional, cold even. Why tonight was he not only warming up to you…but flirting?

Kenny was already cursing himself mentally. He was running off fumes as well, and while his body was trained to deal with that his mind apparently was not, letting him run his mouth. Thankfully, he was saved from having to explain himself as he spotted the two thugs they had been watching begin to leave. It was go time.

_____

You weren’t sure what happened. After entering the first floor everything was a walk in the park, eerily so. That should’ve tipped you both that something was coming. Later you would consider that one of the people you and Mysterion hunted down may have talked, blabbed to Geene and his men, but at the moment all you could feel was panic. 

The second floor opened to you in a blaze of gunfire. 

Mysterion was quick to pull you behind a half wall, his body taught as his mind flew through possible scenarios. Your gaze was pulled away from his face to the bullet hole in his arm, bright red blood staining the fabric of his suit. 

“What the fuck is happening?” You couldn’t hear your voice through the blood rushing in your ears, the pumping of your heart a fast paced drum.

“They knew we were coming,” eyes darting around, he brought you up to your feet and prepared to run, “we need to get you out of here!”

This floor of the building was filled with cubicles and small offices, perfect as Mysterion worked to avoid the eyes of their attackers. Footsteps were heard all around them, shouts to find them and get rid of them from one booming voice above all. One Mysterion knew well. Bastard.

Coming around one corner office, the both of you were met with a muscular man, his hair plastered across his face. Instinctively you got ready to fight, the familiar adrenaline filling your body. Mysterion shot you a warning look, putting himself in front of you to deal with the newcomer. Before you could protest, another man came into view, this one with total focus on you. 

You’ve tussled with this one before, the nickname of ‘fathead’ coming to mind as you rolled your shoulders back. He had weight and strength behind him, but you had learned how to use that to your advantage. Though your body was beginning to feel fatigued, you were able to easily dodge and weave clumsy blows. Grabbing one arm and pulling it further past your head, his balance overturned, just as you wanted. Throwing a quick hit to the back of his head, you knew you won this match, however you weren’t able to feel victorious for long.

You didn’t notice the knife coming at you. 

Your eyes only caught the small glint of metal when a body blocked your view. With a grunt, he worked fast, trading punches with the other guy until he had finally rendered him unconscious. With those three down, it looked like you both were free to go, the general commotion going on from Geene’s men masking your location.

“Come on! We had one lucky break, we might not get another!” You tried to tug on Mysterion’s arm, only to be met with an unmoving wall. “What are you doing? Let’s go!”

As she shifted you saw it, the handle of the knife. Plunged into his chest, the hero was slightly hunched, his expression pained. You rushed forward as he fell to the ground, his labored breathing hitting your ears as you laid him down. 

“We can get you out of here, get you some help, but you gotta come with…”

“Don’t worry about me, you need to get out before they realize where we are-”

“I’m not leaving you here, goddammit!” Wet spots appeared on his face, tears you hadn’t realized were shed. Mysterion gave a small smile, one filled with sorrow and knowing. 

He knew what was coming for him, but you didn't.

Grabbing his face in your hands you brought your lips down to his, the salt from your tears mingled in with heartbreak. Shaky hands cradled your face, gently and calmly, as though the man they belonged to wasn’t dying on the floor in front of you. Pulling back you saw that his eyes, that wonderful shade of purple that held you captivated with every glance, began to dull.

“Go.”

It wasn’t until you got home that evening, bruised and scratched, that you realized you still had his blood on your hands. By morning you still didn’t feel clean.

_____

Kenny felt like the entire world had beat the absolute shit out of him.

Waking up after his deaths always felt like this, but with the addition of you it felt somehow worse. You didn’t know he couldn’t really die and as he watched your anguish he desperately wished you did. For him this was just another setback. For you? He was worried.

His body never came back 100%, always sore and broken for a few days before he could once again throw himself into action. 

He felt a pit in his stomach at the thought of meeting up with you again.

Today however, Stan convinced him to get out of the house, something about walking and fresh air helping him heal faster. The grocery store was fairly empty for a weekday morning, only a few of the town’s elderly residents out and about. A perfect day to just cruise the aisles, Kenny thought.

At the checkout lane he grabbed his usual pack of gum, throwing it onto the belt without looking up. As Stan counted the bills his eyes lazily scanned the magazine racks, when a gasp brought him to attention. 

Ah, the cute girl at checkout. He had seen her quite a few times, tried to flirt which seemed to just fluster her to his delight. But now she looked horrified, and at him nonetheless.

“Miss? Are you alright?” Stan kept looking between the two of them, concern growing in his gaze.

Stepping from behind the register, she came closer causing Kenny to back up slightly. He wasn’t sure he liked how intently the girl was staring at him, but something kept his feet rooted in place. A small hand came up, a ghostly touch along his chin.

“It's…you…but it can’t be. You died.” With those words he felt the floor drop beneath his feet.

The shake of your voice, the softness of your cheeks, the feeling behind your eyes…it was you. It had to be. Explanations danced along the tip of his tongue, never taking the leap to be heard. At his silence you found wetness at the corners of your eyes, and without another look back you sped off, leaving two confused heroes in your wake.

_____

He found you where he thought he would, the rooftop across from where it all happened.

You sat with knees to your chest, as though it would provide some protection to your already shattered soul. You watched him die, you saw the life that filled his body leave his eyes. It couldn’t have been him. You’d feel embarrassed at the scene you caused if everything else already didn’t feel so much worse.

“Glad to see you didn’t hang your cape up.”

Behind you stood the one man that had been haunting you for days. The images of blood and his limp body were constant, and yet here he was as good as new.

You didn’t say a word as you moved towards him, only stopping when you were close enough to feel his breath on your face. You felt his hand shoot up to your wrist while your fingers played with the edge of his mask, but he didn’t stop you. 

The face that stared back was familiar, just as you thought it would be. Kenny’s violet eyes were gentle, taking in every little indication of what you might be feeling. 

“It was the scar…that’s what got me at first. But when I saw your eyes again I knew it was you” with tears springing forth you launched yourself at him, arms locking around his slender neck. “I thought it was all my fault.”

“What do you mean your fault-”

“I was exhausted…you said to keep vigilant and I should've noticed him coming and then you-”

“It was going to happen at some point.” Feeling you shake in his arms he tightened his hold, “These things happen, and at the end of the day you got away safe. That’s what I wanted.”

“You died.”

“I did. Call it a curse.” Pushing back you looked at him with frustration. 

“I wouldn’t call having you come back a curse, you asshole!” Kenny could almost laugh at how you sounded, but the bite of his own bitterness came first.

“I died more times than I can count, in every single possible way. I’ve felt every kind of pain there is to feel,” tension building, Kenny felt himself vomiting out everything he couldn’t say out loud before. “I have had to watch everyone I care about grieve. I have had to watch how my death traumatized them again and again and again. And every morning, they forget. But I don’t.

“It’s been a lifetime of dealing with that. And I could live with it. But having that same thing happen with you? I can’t-”

“I remembered.” With that Kenny's mouth snapped shut. You did remember, didn’t you? “So I would prefer if you didn’t call the fact that I have you back a fucking curse.”

Mouths crashed together as Kenny pulled you back in, desperation pouring out of him in droves. A piece of the puzzle that was his entire being seemed to click in place in that exact moment, and like hell was to let that go. For once he felt seen and whole. 

Coming up for air, you took the chance to pull off your own mask. It wasn’t a surprise to know what you looked like, but something about doing this here and now solidified a trust between you. You were a team.

“We do have a lot of work to do if I’m going to keep you from dying again.” With a laugh, Kenny brought you close once more.

“At least you know I’ll be coming back for you from now on.”

[saessenach]

Ok some more organised 3x02 thoughts under the cut:

- LARRY BEING PUT FORWARD to tell Bertha Gladys ran away? 10/10 no notes also he looked adorable rumpled like that lololol

- Mr. & Mrs. Scott are so dear to my heart it isn't even funny. I love drama and family conflict and love persevering, even when it seems impossible, and the way their family plot evolved throughout the seasons is one of my favourite things about the show actually! They feel so real bc they bicker and argue and make up and MOST OF ALL LOVE THEIR DAUGHTER hi. Incredibly good for my heart to see them like this.

- HELLOooo DOCTOR KIRKLAND 😳

- everyone say "danke schön, Frau Bauer" for telling Miss Armstrong to shut it lol (also of course SHE signs the temperance thing later ksksk)

- BERTHA'S BATTLE OUTFIT HELLO god blue is such a good colour on her and that DRESS. I'm loving her playing the nominal villain in this, while also being the honest one between herself and Mrs Carlton (who might play sweet, but will pull rank at any given moment)

- one of my favourite running themes of the Russell family dynamic is that George and Bertha are imperative, and nearly impossible to face, BUT (and it remains to be seen whether this pays off or not, JF don't do me dirty) it absolutely feels to me like their ultimatums are never quite final. Especially when it comes to their kids, they subconsciously want someone who will stand up straight and won't fold like a house of cards (like they probably had to when they were young). It's so funny to me that all the Russell kids' suitors fold quite easily! Archie, Oscar, Mrs. Blane - none of them make it past the the first serious discussion with the parent (or even there, looking at u Billy lololol). I'm very curious to see who might get there - other than Marian ofc.

- veryyyyyy interested in where the national railroad project is going! How much of it is George's ego and how much of it is him sincerely wanting to be remembered for something other than just being evil Mr Russell in the newspaper caricatures 👀 I wonder if this will lead to him testing the waters with wanting to do more things FOR people, not just profit, and if it'll slowly nudge him to a Carnegie direction.

- all four Russells yelling in the living room 10/10 I love

- THAT goes straight into the top 3 GB kisses in this entire silly show. Holy shit.

- not Borden getting all of Bates' dreams come true off-screen lololol

- Charles Fane you will start coughing in three days 🔪🔪🔪 (the actor truly pulls off the punchable husband demeanor sooooo well, kudos to him)

- AURORA's FACE damn the woman can act

- Agnes accusing mutiny only to then MUTINY Ada's entire speech herself? Incredible, no notes. Also was delighted to see her and Marian on the same side for once - it's truly a fun shift for them AND THE WAY she made Marian laugh?? Delightful. Everyone's faces in that scene were insanely fun hehehe

- could there have been slightly less temperance talk? Sure. Buuut it's still hilarious that THIS is Ada's cooky way to keep her love for the husband alive kdksksks

- god dr Kirkland is so CUTE and look at Peggy being so adorable I'm 😭✨ MY GIRL DESERVES TO BE WOO-ed PROPERLY!!! She's been through so much!!!

- NOT BANNISTER CRACKING and Aurora solving it truly who else does it like them!!

- look George is right and he's being very gentle with Gladys but it's still like. GIRL HE'S NOT GONNA GET THROUGH TO HIM! He doesn't have the backbone for ittt. Would love a missing scene fic where George gets to confront him.

- go on Marian talk sense into him!!

- whenever Marian's courted, we get a new arrangement of her theme, which I find so delightful AND the melody is SO TENTATIVE here!! It's such a lovely touch - when she's with Larry, it's like it wants to play, it wants to soar, but won't quite trust itself to let go. Love the soundtrack reinforcing the characterisation!! I have such a soft spot for that tune.

- clutching my pearls like an old society matron everytime these two are being saucy this season. Between the hand-holding under the table and the carriage kiss here, these two are serving PEAK period courtship and I'm here for it

- is Mrs. Astor leaving an event organised by Aurora in ep2 a show staple?? (yes I'm recalling the s1 bazaar and sighing longingly)

- Larry smoking with his curls all over the place is perhaps his best look so far. Also LOVE JACK's fitting!!! Lovely character work between the two of them - it works especially well since Larry is by all means new money, and it's fun to see him take Jack under his wing!! The parallel from last ep comes to mind again, between George wanting to win over the mine-owners at all costs VS Larry's "by the time I'm done with you, you'll have a house on 61st yourself" to Jack

- Billy Carlton GROW A SPINE CHALLENGE. Gosh I love the drama.

- ok the scene with those two in the pink bedroom deserves its own post, I'm unwell & insane about them

- THE DAY I'M IN YOUR BOARDROOM GIVING YOU MY IDEAS ON THE RAILROADS AND THE STEEL MILLS

- Bertha Russell the WOMAN YOU AREEEEE

- 198392 injured 1 dead yes that's me

- same note as on Marian's theme - when Bertha lies to him, their melody (which by the way, is the show's main theme, which I am sooooooo normal about) goes the sliiiiightest bit off, slipping back into silence as opposed to its usual triumphant tone. I'm insane about them.

- Peggy and her parents are the SOFTEST and my heart is full AND ALSO THE FOLLOWING SCENE WITH AGNES. It took the entire episode for the three of them to sit down, and when they do, it's one of the best scenes of the entire damn show. Nghhhhhfghhhhhhhhhh 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

- love how everyone across the street is so busy about Gladys that they're like sure Marian's part of the family. Yeah no notes, we're delighted you could join us. I love them.

- I feel slightly bad for Gladys but more so I'm OBSESSED WITH THE GLINT IN GEORGE'S EYES DURING THE FINAL SHOT. HE'S GOING TO WAR WO-HOOOOOOOOOO

Ok this ramble was insane if tumblr deletes it I'm outttt

[amora1tarada]

Notes: This is the first fanfiction that I had the courage to post! I’m super excited but also a little nervous. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it. English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes, and I’d be grateful for any tips you have! I’m considering a part two with some smut, but I’m still building up my confidence in English to try it. Have a nice reading, and please don’t forget to repost, leave kudos and comments—your thoughts mean the world to me!

World count: 2k

nightwing/dick grayson

The sound of footsteps dragging across the hardwood floor was what broke the silence of your apartment, jarring you awake from a fitful sleep. The clock on your nightstand blinked red: 2:47 a.m. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. You’d recognize his tread anywhere, the slightly uneven steps that meant he’d probably taken another beating tonight. A familiar knot of fear tightened in your chest, but a wave of relief washed over you as well. He was here. He was alive, at least for now.

With a sigh, you threw on the robe hanging by the bed, clutching it tightly around your body as you moved through the darkened hallway. You were so tired—exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep could ever fix. It was a weariness that lived in your bones, a heaviness that came from watching someone you loved throw themselves into the jaws of danger night after night. You tried, every time, to tell yourself it wouldn’t happen again, that you’d close the window and let him figure it out on his own. But the truth was, you could never turn him away. Every time he stumbled through that window, beaten, bruised, and bleeding, you were there to catch him.

When you reached the kitchen, he was standing by the sink, his back to you, gulping down water like he’d been running for miles. His shoulders slumped in fatigue, his usually immaculate hair disheveled, and from the faint reflection in the window above the sink, you could see a small cut on his lip, a bruise darkening along his jaw. He looked… worn. He always looked a little worn, but tonight there was something different. The way he leaned against the counter, his hand gripping the edge so hard his knuckles had gone white, it was like he was trying to keep himself anchored to the ground.

“Hey, sweets,” he said, not even turning around. His voice was rough, more from exhaustion than pain, but you could hear the tension in it. “Sorry for waking you.”

You took a shaky breath, closing the distance between you and him. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” You tried to sound lighthearted, but the words felt hollow. How many times had you said this? How many nights had he apologized, and how many times had you brushed it off like it didn’t matter?

In truth, it did matter. Every time he came to you like this, a little more of your heart chipped away. Every bruise, every scar—it was like you were carrying them too, bearing his pain in silence. There were so many times you wanted to scream at him to stop, to beg him to leave this life behind. But you knew he never would.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded. He finished his water, setting the glass down on the counter with a dull thud. You could feel the question hanging in the air, the one you always asked even though you knew the answer would be the same.

“What happened?” you asked softly, stepping closer, your hand brushing lightly against his back. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“It’s nothing. Just… a long night,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. But you knew him well enough to know it wasn’t just that. He leaned into your touch for a moment, letting out a long, shuddering breath, and then you felt his body sag, as if all the weight he’d been carrying suddenly became too much.

He turned to face you, and that’s when you saw the rawness in his eyes. There was guilt there, a deep, gnawing pain that he was trying so hard to hide, but it was spilling over, cracking the mask he always wore. He reached up, his hand trembling slightly as he touched your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. “A woman got shot tonight,” he said finally, the words falling heavily into the quiet. “She… she was just an innocent bystander. If I had been faster, more careful… maybe…”

“Dick,” you murmured, placing your hand over his, trying to still his shaking fingers. “It’s not your fault.” You spoke the words gently, firmly, hoping he would believe you, though you knew he wouldn’t.

But he just shook his head, a haunted look in his eyes. “It feels like it is. Every time someone gets hurt, I… I can’t shake the feeling that I should have been better. Done more.”

You took a deep breath, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to be perfect, that he didn’t have to carry the world on his shoulders. But you knew he wouldn’t listen. His mission, his need to protect Gotham, was woven so deeply into his soul that nothing you said would change it.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He stiffened at first, but then he melted against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath, warm and uneven against your skin, and his grip tightened, like he was afraid that if he let go, he would fall apart.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered, the words barely audible. You could feel the exhaustion in him, the weight of every battle he’d fought, every person he hadn’t been able to save. And for a moment, you wondered if he would finally break, if he would finally let you in, let you carry some of that burden with him.

But then he pulled back, his expression shuttered once again, and you knew that he wouldn’t. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Still, you took his hand, leading him toward the bathroom. He followed silently, and you could feel the tension radiating off him, the heaviness of everything he couldn’t say. You wanted to tell him how much it hurt you to see him like this, how every bruise and scar he bore felt like one etched into your own skin. But instead, you just filled the bathtub with warm water, your fingers brushing against his as you gently helped him undress.

As he sank into the tub, you knelt beside him, reaching for the shampoo. Your hands moved carefully, massaging the lather into his hair, washing away the dirt and blood from his night. His eyes drifted shut, his body slowly relaxing under your touch, and you could see some of the tension melting away. Here, in this quiet, dimly lit bathroom, it was almost like everything was normal. Like he was just a man, and you were just the woman who loved him.

You could feel your own tears slipping down your cheeks, though you tried to hold them back. Watching him like this, so vulnerable, broke something in you. You wanted so desperately for him to stop, to give up this life and just… live. With you. But that was a dream, one that would never come true.

When you were done, you helped him out of the tub, drying him off with slow, careful strokes, your hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You dressed him in fresh clothes, guiding him to the bed, and he didn’t resist as you brushed through his hair, letting your fingers trail gently against his scalp.

“It’s enough, sweets,” he murmured, his voice soft and thick with sleep. “Can we just… go to bed now?"

You hesitated, looking down at him. You wanted to tell him everything you felt, all the fear and pain that you kept bottled up inside. But he looked so tired, so worn down, and you couldn’t bring yourself to add to his burden. So you just nodded, slipping under the covers beside him.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his face buried in your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you pressed your face against his chest, hiding it from him. “It’s fine, Dick,” you whispered. “I’d do it all again.”

The silence filled the room and it was almost sacred, a rare moment of peace in a life filled with chaos. He was holding you close, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as if he was afraid you’d slip away, vanish into the dark. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and grounding beneath your hand on his chest, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this was your life—that he wasn’t Nightwing, that he was just Dick, and that he was yours.

A sliver of moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting a pale glow across his face. His eyes were closed, his lashes casting faint shadows over his cheeks, and you let yourself study him, unguarded and still. Every line of his face was familiar to you, etched into your memory from a thousand stolen glances. But there was something fragile about him tonight, something that made you want to reach out, to hold him a little tighter, as if you could shield him from the life he’d chosen.

He must have sensed your gaze, because his eyes fluttered open, soft and filled with an exhaustion that went beyond the physical. For a long moment, he just looked at you, as if he was searching for something, some answer hidden in your face. And you held his gaze, your own heart pounding as the weight of all your unsaid words settled between you, heavy and unbreakable.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he raised a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that stole the breath from your lungs. “I don’t… deserve this,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, covering his hand with yours, feeling the roughness of his calloused fingers beneath your touch. “Don’t say that,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “It’s not you who decides.”

For a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, to turn away from you ignoring your feelings. But you saw the vulnerability so clearly in his eyes in a way you’d only seen glimpses of before. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and your breath caught as his forehead rested against yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Why do you keep doing this, night after night? Why do you keep letting me in?”

You swallowed hard, should you tell him you love him? That you had always loved him and always will? That you just couldn’t leave? No matter how hard you tried? The words were almost spilling from your lips, But you couldn’t bring yourself to say them out loud. “I don’t know, I just care so much about you, that it hurts. I can't seem to let you go.”

A shuddering breath escaped him, and he closed his eyes, his face a mix of pain and guilt. “I’m just so sorry for everything I put you through. I…I thought you hated me at this point.” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles at the base of your neck. “For dragging you into this shit. I’m sorry, I really am.”

You shook your head, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. “I could never hate you. I just… I wish you didn’t have to carry this alone. I wish… you could let me in.”

His eyes opened, locking onto yours, and in the soft glow of the moonlight, you could see everything he’d kept hidden—the fear, the longing, and now there was a new feeling that you couldn’t quite decypher what it was.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours in the lightest, most delicate kiss, as if he was afraid that if he pressed too hard, you’d disappear. It was a kiss filled with hesitation, with years of longing and fear, with all the words he’d never found the courage to say. And as his lips moved against yours, slow and tender, you felt your heart shatter and mend all at once, as if this was the moment you’d been waiting for, the moment you’d always known would come but never truly believed.

You kissed him back, your hand moving to cup his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the faint scrape of stubble against your palm. It was soft, unhurried, a gentle exploration that spoke of all the times you’d imagined this, the way his lips would feel against yours, the way his breath would mingle with yours. And in that kiss, you poured everything—all the nights you’d spent worrying, the tears you’d shed for him, the love that had grown quietly in the depths of your heart, waiting for this very moment.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a faint, almost disbelieving smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your back, grounding you, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of peace in his expression.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “Just… stay with me, like this. Please.”

You nodded, your hand moving to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. “Always,” you whispered, and you knew, deep down, that it was a promise you would keep, no matter how many nights he stumbled through your door, broken and battered. Because this was where you belonged—right here, by his side, in the quiet hours of the night, holding him together even as he held you.

As he pulled you back into his arms, his lips found yours again, a little more certain this time, a little less hesitant. And under the soft glow of the moonlight, in the silence of your shared space, you kissed him like you’d always dreamed, like he was the air you needed to breathe, like he was the very heartbeat of your soul. Because, in a way, he was. He always had been.

The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, a gentle exploration of everything you’d both kept hidden. His hands moved up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along your cheekbones as if he was committing every detail to memory. And in that kiss, you felt years of pain and fear melting away, replaced by something softer, something that felt like hope.

When you finally broke apart, he held you close, his head resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet. Neither of you spoke, because words felt unnecessary. Everything you needed to say had been shared in that kiss, in the way his hands held you, in the way his eyes met yours with a vulnerability he’d never let anyone else see.

And as you lay together in the quiet, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, you knew that this was what you’d been waiting for, what you’d been fighting for. In that moment, you knew that you would always stay with him, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much you wished he would stop, you knew you would always be there for him. Because even though he was breaking you, piece by piece, you loved him. You loved him more than you loved your own heart, and you knew you would stay by his side, no matter how many nights he stumbled through your door, broken and bleeding.

Because that was what love was, wasn’t it? Holding on, even when everything in you wanted to let go.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics that have a bad boy Louis character as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

🖤 What Really Matters by @lovemylarry

(M, 116k, uni) After finishing school, Harry Styles starts studying at Manchester University. Harry is a nice, innocent boy who has his heart in the right place. In contrary, Louis Tomlinson doesn't have anything in common with Harry. 

🖤 Strawberries & Cigarettes by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

(E, 76k, omegaverse)  Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

🖤 The First Year by @parmahamlarrie

(E, 46k, uni) When Louis Tomlinson was assigned a first year student to be his roommate for his final year at the University of Manchester, his expectations were low. All he needed was a cheap place to sleep and keep his stuff amidst his nights out, willing his brain to forget his past. 

🖤 Buried Like Treasure by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 40k, royal) Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion.

🖤 Want It Flowing Through My Streams by screwstyles

(E, 30k, omegaverse) Harry has just qualified for his first Grand Slam, and he’s prepared to make the most of it – that is, until his heat unexpectedly hits him only a few days before his first match.

🖤 i’d burn this city down to show you the light by you_explode / @nobodymoves

(E, 23k, strangers to lovers) Harry's a sheltered rich kid and Louis's a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry's house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.

🖤 taken by lust’s strange inhumanity by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry

(E, 20k, omegaverse) One of the reasons Harry said 'yes' in the first place was because he believed Louis Tomlinson, the campus’ most notorious “bad boy”, would be here.

🖤 For You, I Will (I Don't Believe in Magic, but) by theweightofmywords / @lil0

(E, 17k, criminal Louis) Louis leads two lives, when all he wants is a simple one with Harry.

🖤 Saturday Detention by @fallinglikethis

(NR, 15k, The Breakfast Club au) Five boys with nothing in common end up together in Saturday detention. Maybe if they can get past their first impressions, they’ll realize they're not as different as they thought.

🖤 Wild by LarryUniverse

(G, 10k, boarding school) the au where louis is forced to go to boarding school and hates it from the minute he looked at it but a curly haired, frenchy, photography obsessed stunner changes his mind.

🖤 Canny With The Flow by thinlines / @thinlinez

(E, 9k, omegaverse) Omega Harry brews a plan to bag his crush and executes it. Period.

🖤 Sun-kissed Hurricane, Perfect Storm by iwillpaintasongforlou / @canonlarry

(T, 7k, high school) Harry is the quiet kid in the back of his statistics class who writes a lot and dreams about Louis’ cheekbones . Louis needs a statistics tutor ASAP before he flunks and the quiet kid in the back of the class seems like a good choice.

🖤 If You Could See Him Like I Do by BornOnABeach

(T, 7k, getting together) The gossip came from everyone. But the people who talked didn't know Louis like Harry knew Louis. 

🖤 Baby Doll by zedi

(E, 4k, pwp) PWP with shy nerdy Harry and Bad Boy™ Louis

🖤 We can wait 'til tomorrow by fallenflowercrowns / @headband-husbands

(T, 3k, neighbors) Harry pines hoplessly after his best friend who he thinks rejected him, Louis turns up under his window one night. They go on an adventure.

🖤 we're swimming with the sharks until we drown by velvetnoodle

(T, 3k, casino) There’s only one thing that makes Harry’s job on the casino floor bearable, and that’s a chance to grab the attention of the mysterious man who frequents the establishment often.

🖤 dark dark nights and violent things by StarryDay13 / @daydreaming-sunflower

(T, 695 words, rich Harry) Harry's friends are rich assholes and Louis just wants to go home and cuddle (and maybe get high).

- Rare Pairs -

🖤 To Catch a Thief by StormDancer

(E, 49k, Zayn/Louis) There are some rules even thieves have trouble breaking. Marriage vows, for instance.

[numberonetacostan]

What's Done Is Done (It Feels so Bad)

Read on Ao3 Read on Wattpad

Summary:

Taco can’t sleep. The day had been exhausting, between sneaking into the hotel, seeing everyone again (or rather, letting them see her), dying and coming back to life for the last time, watching a conceited CEO explode. Losing Mepad. But despite the torpidity that fills her body, her mind won’t let her rest. It scrambles through thought after thought, regret after regret, possibility after possibility. Could she have gotten Pickle’s forgiveness, if only she’d given a better apology? How had she never realized she had no life outside of the game? Was there a way they could have saved everyone? Could Mepad have remained with them? What had Cobs done to him?

She pulls her arms out and stares up at the moon. She needs to get away. She needs to get up and do something that isn’t stewing about the day’s events. There’s no way for her to go back in time to redo her discussion with Pickle, shake herself out of her stupidity, or shoot that conniving corn cob before he has a chance to build that miserable ‘Me’ machine. At the very least, not unless Test Tube were to decide to make yet another time machine. But Taco can at least answer one of her questions.

Please consider reblogging this post, and leaving comments/kudos if you like the story!! It makes me very happy when I know people are reading and enjoying my works!!! <3

[ghuleh-draws]

A Mary Goore commission for the very lovely and talented @da-rulah!! This particular Mary stars in “The Mayor’s Daughter.” It is such a delicious read—do yourself a favor and check it out. Excerpt under the cut. ♡

“Wanna try something new. Get over here, doll,” he instructed, beckoning you over. You rose from your seat, closing the distance between you both. He leaned back onto the sink, folding his arms over his chest as you got a little closer than necessary, stood between his feet and leaning your hands on the edges of the sink. Mere inches separated you, and you waited for him to continue.

“That’s a pretty shade of lipstick you got on tonight,” he flirted, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb and inspecting the red residue that lingered on it when he pulled back.

“You should recognise it, not the first time I’ve worn it for you.” If he remembered right, he’d know you wore it the first time he’d snuck in through your bedroom window; the same pretty shade of blood red. “You asked me back then if I thought it would look good on you, and then you kissed me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he mused, feigning thoughtfulness. “And it did look good on me...” You giggled at that, and it damn near sent Mary to his knees right there and then. He would never get fucking tired of that giggle. “Have you got it on you?” he asked, before he could get too distracted by that pretty little sound.

“Of course,” you said, patting the little purse hanging from your shoulder and down by your hip.

“Good, you might need a touch up when I’m done with you,” he smirked. “Think you can make some pretty little lipstick marks for me?” You nodded, moving in to kiss him immediately but he stopped you, his finger on your lip. You pouted, sagging your shoulders.

He pulled his finger from your lips and pointed it to his cheek bone, where the black met the white of his thin and chalky paints. You took the initiative, and stood up on your toes to reach, planting a very deliberate kiss to the area. When you pulled back, you marvelled at your work; the prettiest lip stain sat where you’d pressed your lips against him. Mary turned his head to look sideways into the mirror behind him, smirking at the transfer.

“Perfect, need more though,” he said, turning back to you and pointing now at his jawline on the other side of his face. You obliged eagerly, lingering just a little longer this time and pressing your body against his where he leaned on the sink. You could feel his body tense under you, like he was trying to act cool and aloof but fighting an urge rising inside him...

“Can I choose a spot?” you teased by his ear, letting your breasts press into his chest just a little...

“Choose wisely, doll...” he warned, with no real warning behind it whatsoever. But you already had a spot in mind...

Read the rest here! Don’t forget to leave comments and kudos! ♡

[lovelynim]

TickleTober2024/Day 30 - Magic

Genshin Impact - Kinich x Lyney

Kinich looked at the rose in Lyney’s hand, blinking a couple times as if to process what just happened. Where did that flower even come from? How did Lyney do that? Those and another thousand questions passed through his head at that moment, but there was only one thing he could think of saying.

“Are… you the devil?”

“Wh- no!” Lyney giggled, shaking his head before placing the rose back in his hat. Of all the compliments and comments people made about his tricks in Fontaine, he certainly never heard this one. How amusing. “As I said, I’m a magician.”

“So, magicians are devils?” Kinich asked, cocking his head to the side and earning another giggle from the other guy.

This scenario never crossed Lyney’s mind until he visited Natlan. How to explain his “magic” to someone who never saw magic? Should he feed whatever fantasies his new friend had in mind or tell him the truth about his tricks?

Lyney sighed, leaning over the balcony and resting his head on the back of his hand. “Would you like to see another magic trick?”

Kinich thought for a moment and, after a couple seconds, looked back up to Lyney. “Ok,” he nodded.

“Alright, pay attention or you’ll miss it!” Lyney announced, speaking as if he was in some sort of actual stage. When he was sure Kinich’s eyes were glued to him, he began his little performance.

First, Lyney flashed Kinich with his brightest, most charming smile. Then, Lyney covered his lips with both his hands and, when he moved them away, a plain, emotionless facade remained where the smile was.

Lyney clenched his hand into a fist, tapping his knuckles with his index finger. “It’s here,” he whispered, enticing Kinich’s curiosity.

“Now, with a bit of magic and with the help of my cute assistant,” he said, reaching out for Kinich’s wrist, “let’s see what I can do.”

Lyney pressed his fist into Kinich’s palm, gently opening his fingers as if to give something to him. Then, he climbed Kinich’s arm with his fingers, caressing his wrist, forearm and then his elbow. “Oh, silly me. I dropped it.”

“Dropped what?” Kinich muttered, as confused as he could be while looking at his hand in Lyney’s grip.

“My smile,” Lyney nodded, as if it was something obvious, “it’s hiding here!”

“W-whahaht?!” Kinich gasped, letting out a surprised giggle when Lyney’s hand that was resting over his elbow “jumped” and latched onto his side, squeezing and tickling it. “Stohohop it, it tihihickles!”

“Oh? But I’m not tickling you, I’m trying to get my smile back,” Lyney teased, pulling Kinich’s hand to further expose his ribs and underarm to the series of ticklish pokes and prods that followed through.

Just when Kinich felt his cheeks warming up, the tickling was gone - like in a magic trick. “Aha,” Lyney cheered, holding Kinich by his chin, “so here is where my smile went, hm?”

Even after Lyney let him go, it took Kinich a moment to sit back. He touched his own cheek, smiling slightly as tingles still lingered over his body. “...you’re the devil, indeed.”

A/N: I was going to try my hand writing my first fic for AFK Journey, but I ended up doing some last minute changes in the course of action

Anyway, still not really sure how to write for Natlan characters, so be patient with me

Also, huge kudos for @mxncher_17, on Instagram, for making this comic that heavily inspired me

[skeltnwrites]

S'mores - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie takes you camping

Word Count: 3.6k

TW: bad driving, maybe a bit of angst

A/N: This might have something to do with that box of money from my last fic (kudos to those who guessed correctly), also writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet so good luck if you thought the last one was fluffy

Silver-clad fingers tap against the steering wheel, more in tune with the van’s blinker than the Ace of Spades cassette blaring through the speakers. Eddie glances over his shoulder before veering into the next lane, throwing up an apology wave to the sedan he just cut off. You peek up from the map, sights darting to your side mirror, then to your boyfriend. He’s inches from scratching the sticker-loaded bumper ahead of you, gassing and breaking repeatedly. 

You’re well aware that Eddie’s never been a good driver. Frequently snagging curbs and pushing speed limits, once having picked a note from the windshield about his poor parking job. It’s a miracle that he’s only been in a couple of fender benders over the years. You once nabbed his driver’s license, swatting away his hands so you could see the grainy photo of teenage Eddie. But every now and then when his foot slams against the pedal and you lurch forward in your seat only to be caught by the belt, you wonder whether it was a fake. Today, somehow, he’s in even more of a rush than usual. 

The tape ends, leaving you in silence apart from a distant honk and the familiar chug of the air conditioning. “You know the campsite isn’t going anywhere right?” 

He hums dismissively, hands gripping ten and two as his gaze darts between the road and his rearview. 

You throw a palm over his thigh, squeezing. “Eddie.” 

He’s locked in, swerving in failed attempts to get back over. “One second, sweetheart,” he manages when you retract your hand. There’s a risky opening and he takes it, the car behind instantly laying on the horn. Your eye twitches. 

He rolls to a stop, with nowhere to go between the bumper-to-bumper traffic as far ahead as you can see and highway patrol parked in the median. “Seems everyone and their mother had the same idea, huh?” He turns to you with a dopey half-smile. 

“What’s the rush?” 

He shrugs, picking at the rip in his jeans, “Just wanna get set up before dark.” 

“We’ve got flashlights.” 

“No– well, yeah. It’s not that. I just don’t wanna have to worry about it later.” 

You tilt your head, “No biggie if we set up late.” 

He nods, knowing you’re right. 

When you’d got home from work Eddie didn’t give you a chance to kiss him hello before he urged you into the bedroom to pack for a surprise weekend camping trip. Rented camping gear and a bag of gas station snacks were thrown into the back of the van and within the hour, you were on the road. As he pulled onto the interstate he’d abruptly toggled off the radio as the host discussed details of the pending meteor shower, the part of the trip he intended to keep secret. You pretended not to hear when he asked, despite having read about it in the paper the afternoon before. 

The sun sinks out of sight as you reach the exit ramp. A light pitter-patter against the windshield has you preemptively cranking up your window. Your feet cross each other over the dash as you trace the approaching circle on your map with your finger. 

“You said Bronson?” Eddie asks. 

“Mhmm. Left on Bronson Road.”

“Ya sure? Cause it’s definitely blocked off.” 

You whip your head up at the construction signs and equipment lining the street, or lack of street rather. 

“Damn it.” You rub the bridge between your nose. 

“I could just try to drive through it? I mean those big trucks can–” 

“Eddie,” you raise an eyebrow. 

“What!” He slaps the dashboard, “This girl's gotten us through a lot of adventures, right? One more won’t kill her.” He’s dead serious; Zero problem with driving past a sign that says ‘Closed’ and ‘Do Not Enter’.

“I’ll find another route, keep driving.” 

“Come on,” he groans, sagging into his seat.

“Do you want to pop a tire and be out here all night waiting for help?” 

He scoffs like you’ve insulted him, “I know how to change a tire.”

“Do you have a spare?” 

His mouth opens in rebuttal and quickly shuts.

“Drive,” you roll your eyes, hiding your smirk behind the map. 

You try another road that connects, or so you thought until you pull up to a dead-end sign. It’s pouring now and pitch black out, road signs are hard to see, street lights are sparse, and you’re both cranky from being trapped in a car with each other. It’s your fourth attempt at rerouting when Eddie declares you are officially lost. 

He holds his hands up in defense, “Look I don’t wanna say it but–” 

You send him a glare before he can finish. “We’re not lost.” 

“Look, it’s okay if–”

“But we aren’t. Look, right here,” you flick a pen against the paper. “I’m telling you this is the one.” 

He falters at your serious stare, biting a nail, and sighs, “Okay. Fifth times the charm, right?”  

“That’s what they say,” you smile. 

To both of your surprise, the fifth time is the charm and you’re able to get back on track with your navigation skills. You’re on a long stretch of dirt road, miles since the last light or building or car for that matter. Still, you swear you know where you are and Eddie believes you. He drives shockingly slow, bobbing his leg and squinting at the windshield. The wipers squeal against the glass, working overtime.  

You push your palm against his knee. He continues to drum against the floor mat. 

He feels your gaze and anticipatorily answers, “Have to piss.”

“You did on the side of the road like half an hour ago, dude.” 

“Think it’s the rain. Rainiest fucking day in Indiana history. Thought it would’ve stopped by now.” His voice trails off in this dejected sort of way that you rarely hear from Eddie. 

You’re lips form a tight line and you bring your fingers up to his nape to scratch under a thick mop of curls. “It’ll let up bub.” 

He nods, eyes trained ahead. 

You literally scream when the headlights glare against a campsite sign. Eddie smiles so hard you’d bet his cheeks hurt. An unimpressed teenager mans the check-in booth which you pull up to. She slides the window open to abruptly tell you they closed ten minutes ago, not allowing you to reply before it slams shut. Eddie raps on the glass, pointing to a crisp twenty-dollar bill which she accepts, offering a parking pass and spot number in return. 

The van is parked and you jump out, delighted that the rain has let up some. It’s sprinkling and clouds block any hint of stars, but you couldn’t care less. Eddie grabs the tent first, recruiting you to help stomp the stakes into the ground. He fumbles with the flaps, scratching his neck trying to understand where the door is supposed to be when the rain picks up again. You scramble to finish setting up, throwing bags, food, a radio, and whatever else easily accessible into the tent. It isn’t until you’re both inside, soaked to the bone, that you realize how cramped it is. 

“This is definitely not a two-person tent,” Eddie chuckles, hunched over like a wilting flower, knees digging into yours. His curls are slick and shiny in the lantern glow. 

You flick a mosquito off his arm and grin, “It’s cozy for sure.” 

He flops on the twin-sized inflatable mattress you’d previously used as an umbrella. You wriggle up beside him, clothes drenched and clinging to every curve. 

“I mean think about it, this size would go for, what, a grand in New York? They’d call it an urban studio apartment with bright ceilings and textured floors,” you say magically.

His laugh bleeds into a dramatic groan as he slings an arm over his face. You leave a wake of kisses from his elbow over to his wrist until he’s peeling it away to hold you. Your cheeks are warm against his palms as he says, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to see the meteor shower.”

You lift an eyebrow, “What meteor shower?”

He covers your face, snorting, “Shut up, you knew. You aren’t a good liar.” 

You crack a smile, peeling his fingers away one by one until you can see him again. 

“But really,” he says, seriously. “We are soaked and cold and we didn’t even get to make s'mores!” 

You drop your head to his chest, “You’re right. I don’t think I’ll survive without s'mores.”

His hand finds your crown, his lips too. “I’m serious!” 

“So am I,” you mumble into his tee. 

You are content to lay there in each other’s warmth for a while despite the chills worming up your spine but Eddie breaks the stillness, “Come on. Get up. We need to change.” 

You lift your head, “Wait!” You poke at his chest, “I need to tell you something.” 

He hums, brown eyes heavy as they search yours. 

“I love you,” you say earnestly. 

“Sap!” He pushes you off, crawling over to his JanSport to fish for dry clothes. He chucks you a pair and you waste no time stripping off the sticky fabric. Before long, the lantern is off and you're wrapped in the single dry blanket, shuffling back into him for more warmth. He pecks your shoulder and mutters, “I love you too,” before you drift off. 

You aren’t sure what time it is when you wake but Eddie is breathing hot air onto your neck, curls itching you in a way that makes you pull away. His arm slinks under the covers as you sit up. No light leaks through the tent so it must not be time to get up, you decide. You feel far from sleep, however. It’s cold and somehow sticky. The pant leg pinched up your calf gets tugged down, only to realize the fabric is damp. 

Eddie must feel you shuffling because he starts mumbling and groping around your pillow. His hand claws at your sleeve in an attempt to suck you back in. He whines sleepily when you don’t budge. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, sliding a hand up the tent’s coarse walls. 

“What,” his voice catches, soft against his pillow and hoarse with sleep. 

“I think,” you swipe at the floor until your fingertips graze a freezing puddle. “There’s a hole in the tent or something.” You blink rapidly trying to see the damage. 

He cranes up with a hum, elbowing you as he scratches his face. 

“The floor is wet.” 

“Where?” 

You wrap your fingers around his in the darkness, guiding them past your body to skim the floor.

“Shit,” he sighs. 

You prod around, shoving away non-lantern-shaped or textured items. 

“Here,” Eddie clicks his lighter. It sparks a few times before lighting, casting skewed shadows against the walls. He yawns, gesturing at the lantern with closed lids. You click it on, dangling it over the gap beside the mattress—golden light glimmers against the water. Eddie climbs over you to view it, hair swaying as he shifts. Your heavy eyes travel up in tandem to catch the steady drip from the roof. A small, fraying line splits the fabric. He pushes a thumb against the next forming bead. His tongue slips back in his mouth to clear his throat, “I’ve got duct tape in the van but I don’t think it’ll stick to this.” He scratches the canvas, “‘specially not in the rain.” 

You nod, observing as his brain churns. His gaze flicks to his wrist watch and then he’s folding over his legs in a cat-like stretch. Hunched over, he says, “It’s too early for this. Let’s just go sleep in the van.” He hums as if to ask, “How does that sound?”

You trace the curve of his spine as he stretches, “‘kay.” Neither of you move. Rain pelts the tarp rhythmically. 

“Come on,” he sighs deeply before pushing up to unzip the tent. Stray raindrops blow inside, a couple catching your hand where it bunches clothes together. You sweep whatever is near into his bag, passing Eddie his sneakers. You don’t bother lacing yours. 

He throws his denim jacket over your shoulders before you race out, shoes squelching against the mud. Your heel dips into a puddle as you plant your hands against the slick sliding door. Eddie jams the keys in the lock with rehearsed practice, climbing in and pressing buttons until the rest of the locks click. You rapidly pull the metal handle, nearly eating shit as your foot slides. 

Eddie jumps back out. “Piece of shit door,” he grumbles and bumps your hip, pushing with you until the door lurches open. When he clears it, you slam it behind him. The backpack and his jacket are discarded onto the floor before you climb over the center console after him. He starts the car, cranking the temperature knobs until warm air blows from the vents. 

As soon as your eyes meet, you crumble into giggles. Any bit of sleepiness left has vanished. His hair is flattened with moisture and his cheeks rosy from the cold. You curl your nail under a black strand stuck to his chin.

“Needed a shower anyway,” Eddie shakes his hair out like a dog, spraying you in the face. 

You yell and shield yourself with your sleeves. 

He licks a stray droplet off his lip then leans over the seats searching. Eddie gets up and squirms between them, kicking the water bottle in the cup holder. You slip your shoes off, pushing them under the seat to avoid tracking any more mud. 

Your palms hover flat against the heat for a while. It’s quiet per Eddie standards so you glance behind your seat. In the dim car light, your boyfriend shuffles through his backpack. He’s chewing on his lip as he tips it over to dump the contents out, mostly clothes. His eyes widen when he finds you staring. 

“Find me something to wear?” You ask. 

He nods after a moment, still watching you like a child with their hand in the cookie jar. You turn back around hesitantly. 

You busy yourself with reading the campsite pamphlet you’d been given at the entrance. But the grinding of the slider door has you whipping your head back around. Eddie’s halfway outside, shouting, “One sec’!” The door shuts abruptly leaving you alone in the van. You climb into the back, cupping your hands against the foggy glass. Your boyfriend has his jacket slung across his back as he crouches into the tent. A couple of minutes pass and he’s running back. You pull the door open for him and he thanks you as he hops in. 

“What?” You question. 

He flashes a tight-lipped smile, “Forgot this.” He holds out his lighter in one hand, placing his jacket on the floor neatly with the other. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’ve got like three in the glovebox, Eddie.” 

“This one’s my favorite.” The lighter is lime green, adorned with a fading smiley face drawn in sharpie, thanks to you. He scratches his neck sheepishly. You don’t know whether to believe him since he’s never shown a preference for lighters before now but he seems genuinely embarrassed that you’ve found out. 

“Oh,” you settle with, choosing to let it go, lest you embarrass the poor boy further.  

You dissolve into separate chores in the back of the van. He smears the puddle by the door with his already wet t-shirt and you hunt for another pair of his pajama pants for yourself. Dry clothes are dwindling, having soaked two pairs each already. But you manage to find new bottoms and a fresh shirt for Eddie. He’s slipping it over his head, crisscrossed on the floor in only his boxers. You circle the small space, plucking any soggy clothes off the floor to hang dry on a camping chair that had been left in the van. As you scoop up Eddie’s jacket something rolls out onto the floor. You kneel to pick up a small, black box with your free hand. You scratch curiously at the velvet, wavering to hand it off to Eddie. Gears turn in your head as you glance up at your boyfriend who stares at you from the floor a few feet away. Your expression mirrors his, mouth agape, eyebrows raised. 

“I—”

“Is this?“ You say simultaneously. 

Your limbs are locked in place, mouth dry as you try to string together a coherent question. Suddenly the heat pouring from the vents is too hot. You might as well catch fire with how your cheeks burn. 

He deflates in front of you, shoulders sagging and chin drooping in one motion. 

You shove the box into his hands as if that will fix it. 

He furrows his brows and looks away, “Shit.” 

You are about to offer to pretend you haven’t seen it when he continues.

“This whole trip has really gone to shit, huh?” He shakes his head, throwing a hand out defeatedly, “I mean– I had this whole perfect plan and I was trying so hard not to fuck it up. The shower and the fucking rain. Hell, Steve, even Wayne warned me to do it right and I– I just.” He scoffs, head tipping back against the door. “I almost lost it.” 

It’s then that it dawns on you that Eddie Munson, your boyfriend, intended to propose to you on this trip. That he plans to marry and spend the rest of his life with you. 

“–want you to think that I don’t care enough—“

“Eddie,” you whisper.

“–and I wanted you to know how seri—“

“Eddie!” Your on the dirty floor of his van, knees digging into his as you push the box further into his chest, “Fucking ask me already.”

He melts under your stare, breath shuddering hesitantly despite your growing smile. “I– Will you—“

You're already nodding at the first word. “Yes, you idiot.” You’ve lunged into his chest, smiling uncontrollably into his neck. 

He chuckles nervously into your temple, slowly wrapping an arm around you. But he pulls back, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately. 

His eyes dance around your face, lingering on the spot below your ear he likes to kiss. He presses his nose there instead, giggling like a little kid. “I can’t believe you said yes,” he whispers breathily, more to himself than you. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” You squeeze him, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I dunno, I just thought,” he trails off. 

“Eddie,” you peel him off your skin, waiting until he looks at you. “This is perfect.” You knead your nose and eyes before anything escapes. “I don’t care if it rained or if we didn’t see the meteors or about fucking s’mores for Christ’s sake!” You smack him lightly in the chest, smiling hard. 

His eyes are glassy and he swallows hard. “You haven’t even seen the ring yet,” his voice shakes when he says it.

“There could be a paper ring in there for all I care.” 

He grins, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Should’ve told me that before I bought something.”

You laugh wetly and he brings the box up to your hands to open together. Rings are not something you and Eddie had discussed much if at all and yet somehow he managed to find just what you envisioned. 

The tears finally fall as you say, “It’s gorgeous, Eds.” 

He chases them away with kisses, cupping your cheek to pull you closer. 

When you're momentarily done studying the jewelry you press your lips to his. He’s reluctant to pull away, diving in for a second, then a third, like you’ll change your mind if he lets you go. 

“Here,” his hands are shaking as he plucks the ring from its cushion and cradles your hand. The ring slips on easily, a tad too big, but “Wayne knows someone who can tighten it.”

You nod, grinning wildly at your hand. He’s watching you with a similar wobbly expression when you glance up. You remain a tangled pile of soppy limbs on the metal floor until your back aches. He’s pulling you up and clicking off the lights before crawling up front. 

“I don’t know how you expect me to fall asleep now,” you whisper giddily, cheek pressed to the reclined passenger seat. 

From across you, he says, “I don’t think I can either.” He watches you fondly as you twist the ring around your finger. He’s thinking about how stupid he was to worry so much about what Wayne and Steve fucking Harrington of all people warned him about. That he knows he’s never felt so strongly about someone before and that he’d be crazy to let you slip away. 

Your gasp breaks his stream of consciousness. You’ve sat up, pointing through the windshield. “Look!”

“What?” he’s ducking his head, flipping up the sun visor, and glancing from you to the glass, trying to track your line of sight. Then he finds it, a long arc of light breaking through the clouds. It’s faint, fading in and out of the darkness as it streams from one end of the sky to the other. It passes, and you both observe for more, wide-eyed and stiff like dolls. 

“Look at that,” you blink deliriously, slumping back into the seat. 

“Did you get the universe in on this or something when I wasn’t looking?” He’s baffled, chuckling to himself. 

“Maybe it’s a sign,” you smirk. 

He nods, leaning over to peck the corner of your lip. “Didn’t need one. Knew you were it from day one.” He slinks back into his seat, leaving you a blushing ball of flames.  

[anotherlifelesshawksloverplshelp]

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

Sweetness

Dabi x reader!!!

Kudos to Mel, she unintentionally gave me ideas to write and getting me to write it in the first place (I was procrastinating like a mf…)

I took a little turn with it and made it sfw. I was gonna add hints, but honestly I'm happy with it as is.

IF YOU WANT A PT. 2/CONTINUATION WITH A LITTLE SPICE PLEASE REPOST/COMMENT AND SAY SO! Also requests are open for now so feel free to bother my inbox.<333

Content/warnings: Insecurity, scars, (idk if those are necessary but i could understand the tw), just fluff, reassurance, and some love<3 2k

...

"Does it bother you..?"

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It was a late morning. He had been hanging low with the rest of the league for a week and a half now, everyone either recovering, plotting, or taking their chance to just rest. Taking loss after loss was exhausting, so the break was necessary, you thought. Their entire group had years worth of festering emotions, motivations and conviction. Would it be so bad to not sit there and simmer in self pity and loathing for a week?

Dabi had chosen to crash at your place midway through. He didn't mind the group. Whether he was aware of it or not, they were growing on him, but he'd never admit that. But you had grown on him more.

So, when you woke up, turning to see a tired Dabi propped up slightly against your pillows, being dragged out of thought by your stirring and shooting you a sidelong smirk, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sleepy joy sparkle in your chest.

"G'mornin', doll.." he murmurs, his voice sultry, laced with a deep exhaustion that he'd never admit out loud, masking it with his cocky tone. You smile at him happily, scooting a little closer.

"Morning, Tou'..." You snuggle against his arm a bit which he absorbs, letting it feed his ego. He slid that arm under you, wrapping it around and pulling you up against him, looking down at you with those cool blue eyes.

"Like what you see?" Is always the first thing he ever said to you, whether you guys were out and you looked at him to ask a question, meeting up at the hideout, him  stumbling through your window with burns and blood. Something he said without thinking just to get something out of you. His way of saying “hello” or “I see you.”

You nod regardless, used to his arrogant demeanor by now. Your eyes trail the way the white sheets wrapped at his waist contrasted his dark burns along his stomach, the way his staples glimmered with the morning light pouring through the thin, airy curtains, following the curve of his smirk back to his eyes. You stretch up, pressing a little peck to his cheek which he chuckled at like you were amusing, tugging you a little closer, tracing lazy shapes into your back. He lays back a bit before humming "Go back to sleep, doll, I ain’t going anywhere."

You look up at him, tracing the sharp, messy edges of his hair, the way it contrasted to your light room, tracing back down to his glistening staples. You gently reach up and graze his skin, trailing it down his neck to run along the staples on his chest. 

He glanced down at you as you do so, the sensation sweet but dull, a muffled cry to his damaged nerves and thickly grafted skin. His smirk faltered, now just watching you quietly, the way your eyes were drawn to his skin...

"Does it bother you?.."

Your eyes snap up to meet his, furrowing in question. You were used to random or hypothetical questions from him, more often than not posing questions just as an exclamation, like "Who would've thought?" with humour before elaborating, or "Isn't it funny..?" before going on a rant about something having to do with society or heroes. But this... something about his tone was different. You could feel a sudden shift in his demeanor seep into your skin as you rested against him, chest feeling oddly heavy.

Does what bother me?.." You ask quietly.

"My skin. Does it bother you?" He asks again, strengthening the foundation of his tone again so it'd sound more natural to him, but you weren't going to let go of what he had first offered. Your motions stop, reaching up and running your thumb down the staples on his chin before cupping his cheek gently.

"Of course not." You say in gentle disbelief that he would ask that question. You search his eyes as they watch yours, totally still. His large free hand raised to brush against the side of your face, cupping around your ear, stapled palm against your cheek which you leaned into.

He took in the action, watching you with almost sad yet unreadable eyes. He was so expressive in his own ways. He thought he was so slick, but deep down he was just a kid when it came to people. When it came to himself. He’d sit there and argue your lectures when he’d go do something particularly bad or get hurt, answering with short, snarky responses, but his eyes would convey the guilt he felt. He’ll ignore, yell, or disvalue his teammates at face value, but you’ve seen the way he still counts the heads in the room, or his eyes will flicker with concern in a tight situation. He wasn’t inhuman just because he had baggage and some scarring, and your heart ached that he couldn’t see that. That he couldn’t understand you saw him. 

“Don’t give me that..” He murmurs, feigning minor irritation at the look you gave him, but it was more than that. He averted his gaze, opting to look at the wall. He was shutting you out.

You huff softly, giving his hand on your cheek a squeeze at which he glanced at you in the corner of his eye. 

“I don’t need you to pity me.” He states.

“I’m not pitying.” You say shortly, eyes flickering across his expression, the slightest pursing of your lips as you look at him.

He scoffed like he didn’t believe you, and you couldn’t entirely blame him. Nobody likes to accept words offered to them when they feel someone doesn’t have a true understanding. You got a little closer, not overwhelmingly so, but enough to reassert your presence, desperately trying to show you were here for him if he didn’t understand it any other way.

“Your scars don’t bother me. You don’t bother me. If you did, you wouldn’t be in my bed at night. If you did I wouldn’t be bringing you food despite your protests, not caring if you eat it all, just wanting you to eat something. And I think you know that, Touya.”

That’s right. How could he have given you his name? You knew he cared, and he knew you cared enough to share that with you. The name itself made him happy and sick at the same time, but the way you uttered it so sweetly, with genuine care. You could see him. Although nothing could outweigh his goal against his father(which he hadn’t spoken about with you yet, he’s just not ready), maybe your affection was good enough for now. 

He shifted to face you a little more, not entirely on his side, pulling you in close with a sigh. He didn’t like being vulnerable or anything like that, but he didn’t like when he had to shut you out too. He made a steady compromise, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a huff. 

You didn’t know if it would be right to say you loved his scars or not. They were a part of him, whether anyone liked them or not, but you did. Not whether or not they were attractive, or tolerable, but simply because of him. It was a part of his story. It showed his past and what made him who he was now, but it didn’t define him either. If you didn’t like them, then you simply wouldn’t like him. You didn’t know if that was necessary to say to him or not, but in your heart you held it as your truth for him. Instead you simply say..

“I love you, Touya. I’m not going to hate you for something like some skin…”

He looks at you. He knew it could be repulsive. He should know, he lived in it. Skin too tight for himself, scars that he had to stare at everyday, some days it felt more real than others. 

You cup his face and kiss the tip of his nose. “I promise, baby.”

You were too good for your own good, he thought. He didn’t care about your past, anything you may or may not have done. You were too sweet. Sugar that flooded his bitter existence.

“Damn…I love you too, doll.” is all he muttered, but it was sincere. He sounded a little choked, but you knew better than to expect anything to dampen his lashes. You sigh softly, pressing featherlight kisses along where the large scarring patches met the fresh skin, your touch incredibly careful.

He appreciated it. Although you couldn’t hurt him, his nerves being too damaged for anything you do to bother him, the muted sensation of your skin on his was still loved by him. Your affection over the skin he hated so much lifted his heart greatly, you adorning him with love and care steadily chipping away at his rough exterior. What had he done to deserve you?

You reached up, pressing a reassuring kiss on the staples on his chin, watching you sending him a shiver through his entire body pleasantly. It was intoxicating when you loved him, and he swore you damned him into an addiction. 

Your eyes flicked between his, searching gently as his gaze rested on you before pressing a loving kiss to his lips, him reciprocating softly to convey how he loves you back. He can’t help but be handsy either, one hand moving to your ass, the other to your hip to keep you close, humming lowly against your kiss. 

You prop yourself up a little on one arm to adjust the angle to deepen the kiss, which he obliges to, leaning in a little.His hand on your hip slid to your thigh to pull you up and over so you were straddling his hips, tongue grazing your lower lip as a request, but not forcing it, which you allowed. 

His hands trailed up and down from the small of your back to your thighs, touch light and teasing in contrast to his usually harsher grip. He was never this soft. You knew he wanted you, he made that very clear all of the time you two had been together, but it was never really like this. 

He was admiring you. Yes he held an attraction, yes he loved you, but he didn’t always look at you like this. You’d get his approval here, his protection there, but this was different. You cupped his face, breaking the kiss to watch the way his gaze softened over you, looking up at you, his expression almost sad. You peppered his face with kisses. His forehead, his brows, under his eyes, all along his cheeks. He drank it all, basking in your affection, eyes fluttered shut as you did before cracking a smirk and catching your lips once more to stop you. 

“Hey hey hey, leave a little room for air, wontcha?” He chuckles, his voice and tone a sweet break from the previous conversation, which you giggled to. He stopped you and pulled you to his chest, hand on the back of your head as he held you there softly, sighing, a sigh that expressed the genuine relief he felt deep in his chest. 

You loved him. And he was coming to terms with loving you too. Maybe there was something else to live for other than hate after all. One other thing that would make this inevitable march towards his death worthwhile. Maybe… 

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[shadowsingers-mate]

In the Fire's Embrace (Elucien Fic)

Summary: In the heart of battle, amidst steel and fire, Elain is seized by a vision—her body frozen, her mind lost to the storm of prophecy. Lucien is by her side in an instant; becoming her shield, her sword, her sanctuary.

A/N: The fabulous artwork used in this fic was made by the lovely @works-of-heart . Kudos to you, I love everything you create. Link to her artwork is here. Go and show some love to her creations!

The battlefield smelled of blood and steel, of burnt flesh and magic thick as storm clouds.

Lucien had long since stopped trying to count the bodies. His blade was slick with blood, his muscles ached from the relentless dance of war, but he did not stop. He could not stop. Not when Elain was here. Not when his mate—his delicate, steel-spined mate—had insisted on coming to the front lines.

He had fought wars before. He had seen battles more gruesome than this, had survived hellscapes that would have driven lesser males mad. But never—not once—had he been this afraid.

Not for himself.

For her.

Elain.

She had stayed behind the main assault, positioned where the healers worked frantically over the wounded, where the risk was supposed to be minimal. But something had pulled her forward—some invisible force, some call in her bones that Lucien could feel through the bond. It had yanked her away from safety, had made her steps quick and desperate, her breath uneven.

And then—she froze.

Lucien saw it from across the battlefield. Saw her go still, her hands limp at her sides, her eyes wide and unseeing.

Terror slashed through him.

He ran.

His body moved before his mind could catch up, dodging spells, blades, the screams of dying soldiers. He cut down anyone in his path, uncaring of how many fell before him.

Because Elain was not moving.

He reached her just as an enemy lifted a blade to strike—

Lucien’s roar tore through the battlefield.

The male did not even have time to register his mistake before Lucien was upon him. With a brutal, vicious slice, he severed the soldier’s hand from his wrist, then drove his sword into his chest. Blood sprayed across the dirt, the male’s body crumpling at Elain’s feet.

She did not react.

Lucien barely noticed as he turned, blade flashing, cleaving through another enemy that dared step too close.

Elain was still standing there. Lost. Her pupils were blown wide, her chest rising and falling in short, rapid breaths.

A vision.

Lucien had never seen one take hold of her this way. Never seen her so utterly consumed, so paralyzed by whatever images had seized her mind.

And she was defenseless.

A war waged around them, soldiers surging in from every direction, and she stood in the middle of it all, an unmoving target.

Lucien moved.

He grabbed her, his arm a band of iron, sweeping her into his arms, pressing her against his chest, shielding her from the chaos. His other hand lifted his sword once more.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice thick, wild, as he pressed his lips to her temple.

She did not respond.

Lucien braced his legs and fought.

With one arm locked around her, he became a living, breathing shield, swinging his blade with deadly precision. His muscles burned, his wounds screamed, but none of it mattered.

Because his mate was in his arms, vulnerable, and there was nothing—nothing—he would not do to protect her.

A spell arced toward them—dark, curling magic meant to kill.

Lucien snarled, twisting them both so his back took the brunt of it, fire licking along his spine. His teeth ground together, the pain sharp, searing—but Elain did not feel it.

She did not so much as flinch.

"Come back to me, sweet girl," he rasped against her hair, his voice barely audible over the din of war.

He could feel the vision holding her captive, could feel the distance in the bond—like she was slipping further, further, into something he could not reach.

"Elain." His voice was raw, desperate.

Another soldier lunged. Lucien pivoted, his grip tightening around her waist as he swung his sword in a deadly arc, slicing through the male’s throat. Blood splattered across his face, hot and sticky, but he did not loosen his hold on her.

Never.

Another attack. Another. They came like a tide, relentless and hungry, and Lucien fought them all, his body a barrier, his blade an executioner.

His breath was ragged, his heartbeat wild, but he did not stop.

Because she was in his arms. And he would burn the world before he let it take her from him.

Another arrow shot toward them. Lucien barely had time to shift, taking the hit to his shoulder with a sharp grunt.

"Come back," he growled against her ear, tugged at their bond. "Come back, Elain. I need you."

She did not respond.

Fear crawled up his throat. His grip on her tightened. What if she did not return? What if whatever had stolen her away would keep her?

Lucien’s chest ached, but he only held her tighter to him, his voice breaking as he whispered, "You are mine, Elain. And I am yours. Come back to me."

A gasp.

Her entire body jerked.

Lucien’s heart nearly stopped.

Elain’s fingers curled into his armor, her breath sharp and uneven. He felt her return to him through the bond, felt the awareness slam back into her fragile frame.

And then—her voice. Small, shaking.

"Lucien?"

The breath he released was shattered. His forehead dropped against hers, his chest rising and falling in frantic, desperate relief.

"I’ve got you, sweet girl," he whispered, his hand cradling the back of her head, his fingers curling into her hair.

Her entire body trembled against him.

Lucien swallowed hard, pressing another kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth—quick, frantic kisses that were more reassurance than anything else. "You are with me. You are safe," he assured her.

But there was no time.

The battle was not over.

Lucien lifted his head, scanning the battlefield. He was bleeding, panting, but he did not let her go. He would never let her go.

His free hand lifted his sword once more.

"Stay with me, Elain," he said, voice dark, fierce, trembling with everything he could not say.

Her fingers curled tighter into his armor. "Always."

And with his mate clutched against him, Lucien turned back to the battle.

And he fought.

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

A New Treatment - Part 2

Summary: Lullaby has managed to treat Most of Lana's issues regarding the invasive bond of the Silver menace, but the issue is by no means resolved. So now the question remains, how does one move forward when the path is blocked by an adversary that is both stubborn and lethally competent? 

Warning: Emotional Breakdown , Eavesdropping

Previous Chapter : Here 💙

Next Chapter: Currently Unknown

First in the Series : Here 💛

I must give the usual kudos to @kit-williams and @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for use of their ocs!

Other awesome creators in the husbandry sphere include BUT are not limited to...

@sleepyfan-blog @egrets-not-regrets @legionsofthehungry

@passionofthesith @bispecsual @bleedingichorhearts @beckyninja

@moodymisty @boop-le-snoot @angronsjewelbeetle @jaghatai-khock

The guestroom is dark, save for the afternoon sunlight streaming through the shear curtains. You'd asked Khopesh to turn off the lights when he'd carried you in here. 

He always carries you. When will you stop being useless and carry him for a change? 

Shut up! 

Now you're both laying against the headboard of the reinforced bed, you wouldn't ask Khopesh to doff his armor in a strange place, even if you desperately want to feel his warmth and more of his skin against yours. 

You burrow your face deeper into the crook of his neck, and force yourself to drown out those awful thoughts with the sounds from his heartbeats and purring. It's not happy purring, but he's doing it to make you feel better. And you feel like if he stops holding you, your entire self will break apart. 

But you know Khopesh won't do that, but it doesn't stop the pain and the fear and the overwhelming sense that things Just Keep Getting WORSE. 

“Why do things keep getting Worse!?” You ask, partially muffled by the skin of his neck. 

Khopesh doesn't have an answer, nor do you expect him to really. But it does surprise you when he asks. “Are you…truly unhappy with our life?” 

You immediately pull back to look in his eyes. “No!” How could he even Think that? You grasp his face, mostly gently and emphatically tell him. “No! NO! Sweetness you are the Light of this life!” You plead, but nowhere near done. “You Are the warm shadows that hold and protect me at night! You're the laughter I feel in my gut when I see your face each morning and I think about your goofy antics! You're The best damn thing I've Ever been able to hold and call mine!” You promise, and pull his head to your chest. “I'm sick of anything and everything that keeps getting in the Way of that!” You growl. 

You feel Khopesh smile against your chest, as his arms wrap you closer. You both stay that way for a moment. 

“I'm…tired,” You admit, and begin running your fingers through your Khopesh's hair. “We should've been able to just stay Home today.” 

Khopesh shifts his gaze to yours. “Do you wish to leave? Because if so I will carry you out that door and you will Never have to even Think of this place again.” He promises, and you know he means it. 

You smile at his consideration, then sigh. “No…there's still more that Needs to be done.” You'd already told him Who that silver magic belonged to. “Besides…It's not Lana's fault she's caught magic jeebies from an asshole.” Your words cause Khopesh to snort and chuckle. You smile, and take a moment to just breathe in Khopesh's scent. 

“...Do you regret coming here?” Khopesh asks you. 

You take a moment, and then you shake your head. “No…I don't. Because I can't regret helping someone who needed it. I just don't…like being caught off guard.”

Khopesh hmms, adjusting his hold slightly so he can trace his nose along your jaw. He inhales your breath, he can feel the pumping of your blood through your veins.

God you wish you could both be having reunion sex in the shower right now.  

You inhale deeply, and exhale. Then you repeat that a few times. You sit back and look Khopesh in the eye. “We should go back out now. Lana deserves to know what's going on.”

Khopesh smiles softly. “Then so it shall be.” He begins to shift so you can both dismount the bed. 

“But yeah when we get home we're having a LOOOOONG fucking nap. And a hot shower before that.” You declare, sliding down the bed to stand on the floor and offering your hand to Khopesh. 

The Nightlord smiles as he takes your hand and ‘pulls’ himself up to stand. “Hot as in the temperature or hot as in…” He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Both.” 

“Yes!” Khopesh purrs and walks with you to the door. 

At which point you hear some scuffling and whispering. 

“Back up dammit.”

“Can you hear anything?” 

“Even if I did I'm Not telling you and Move your elbow Hydra!” 

“Gee snappy snappy Hatchling.” 

“I am Not your hatchling!” 

“You’re certainly whining like one.” 

“Aren't you all supposed to be giving them some Space?” A voice slightly further away asks the bickering space marines. 

“Shit!”

“I Told you this wasn't your business face stealers!” 

“Oh that's rich coming from you, tell me, who snuck down here and pressed their ear to the door first?” 

“That's not!..I'm not! They are Both my Family! It's different!”

“So eavesdropping is Fine as long as it's Family. Right…”

“You all need to back up.”

“Wait, I think I hear something!” Followed by a few small sounds pressing to the door. 

You turn and smile at Khopesh who can tell you've got mischief on your mind. He smiles back and you take that exact moment to open the door. 

Thunk! THunK! THUNK! 

A stumbling gaggle of Space Marines fall into the room. Claude, then two of the Hydras…it's actually Talos and Keed, you Think. 

“Oof! Ah Brother! Lullaby! We were-I mean I- ah, I was just…” Claude fumbles. 

“Eavesdropping?” Khopesh smiles pointedly. “Really Claude I thought I taught you better.”

Claude sighs, and deflates a bit. “I know…” He works to get to his feet with a quickly muttered. “Get off.” To the hydras, who acquiesce with some more grumbling about Claude being prickly. 

“You got worried,” You address Claude as he stands, and take his armored hand. “I appreciate it sweetie. But Khopesh is right, it's better to give people space when they need it instead of hanging outside doorways.”

“Well no, I mean I taught him how to eavesdrop better than That.” Khopesh corrects. 

You turn to your Love, your Light, your shining moon with that Fucking Audacity and he greets your look with a smile. 

“The damn Audacity on you!” You chastise but there's laughter under your words. “I should make You repair the bathroom door for that!” 

Khopesh's teeth show as he smiles with delight. “Oh but my Love you Know I'm no good with builder's tools! You'll just have to find some other way to…correct me.~” He purrs, bringing his face close.

A blush erupts over your face, and you huff with a “Hush you!” before turning back to the door and proceeding on your way. 

The Hydras make room, and Khopesh follows you like a shadow once more. Claude follows on the other side and you see Anrir in the hallway. 

His ancient eyes regard you with a level look. “How are you feeling?” He asks. 

You quirk a half smile. “I'm well enough to talk about where we go from here.” You reply. “Something tells me this won't be an easy patch of road ahead, for Any of us.” You walk on, shaking your head. 

“Oh joy…” Anrir groans, but doesn't argue. 

Your group proceeds back to the living room, and the attached dining/kitchen area where sounds of upbeat chatter are emanating. 

At the table eating the various take out items the Hydra's had brought, were Lana, Orlys, and Zarius. Zariel was sat there as well, clearly taking some time to have Lana in his arms. 

If he's the busiest of the shoal he may get far less time with her. He and the others are also probably happy to see her eating well. The dining group turns to you as they see you. Lana jumps up. 

“Are you okay?” She fusses worriedly, then turns to grab a mug from the counter and a kettle of hot water. “Here, let's pour you that cup of tea I promised, any preference for type?”

You smile at her generosity. “I'll take green tea with milk and sugar if you've got it.” You pull out a chair and sit down. The others follow suit, sitting or standing in the dining area. 

Lana nods with an “Of course,” before she gathers those items, and gives them to you so you can prepare your cup. While it steeps you fold your hands and take a breath. 

Time to try…and explain. Khopesh is sitting next to you, providing you silent support. 

“So…I'm sure you're wondering why…everything.” You begin, opening your hands. “While I can't explain Everything…I can tell you what I saw. And what I Think is causing your issues.”

Lana holds her own mug, and her face shows concern for your tone. “But I thought you managed to treat me. I already feel so much better.” She assures. 

You smile, but it doesn't touch your eyes. “I've treated your current symptoms.” You correct. “But the root cause is still very much a problem. One that we'll need your input on how to address given…the exact nature of it.” 

“Okay,” Lana agrees. 

How to put this? “So…You've got what Looks like the roots of an intense bond. And the being it came from is a Silver Space Marine who attacked my Astarte friends and family and is now being held in custody.” You say. “And he knows about my abilities because I used them to help defeat him. And if he didn't already know he Definitely knows now because I was somehow able to jump into his head when I touched the main source of the silver magic. Aaaaand I'm pretty sure he wants me dead for that. Well…More dead anyway.”

A moment passes. And Everyone in the room doesn't truly know how to react, even those who already know most of this information. 

“Also I think the invasive bond is messing with the bonds from your Alpha Legion Marines And your life force in general, which caused your symptoms.” You explain further. “So if we can't get rid of the main vine the exhaustion and pain will just keep coming back as the invasive tendrils regrow.”

Lana's face is so…so heartbreakingly hurt and confused looking. Zariel holds her closer, and her other Hydras crowd around her. “But…I don't understand? How could this have happened? I've never even Met a silver space marine, let alone whoever you're talking about!?”

You bite your lip, you'd been thinking about that while decompressing, and a painful Painful possibility had come to mind. 

“I'm afraid it might be…My Fault.” You say, flexing your grasped hands together. It's a soothing motion. 

Zariel looks at you incredulously. “How on Earth could you be responsible for Any of this?” The other Hyrdas murmur similar sentiments. Keed particularly looks concerned or…frightened? 

“Lullaby…?” Khopesh asks worriedly, wrapping an arm around you. 

You take a deep breath. “When my Family had that encounter with Draco- the Silver  Space Marine. I used my powers to absorb his psychery, and empower my loved ones.” You state. “But I absorbed too much, and ended up having to expel it. I was able to ground some of it with help but…” You swallow. “The rest forced its way out in a scream.”

Anrir interjects. “Dear child, do you really think an invasive bond could form from that?”

You look to Anrir then to Lana as you speak. “We know I can help bonds form if the two parties are close enough together. And I have No Idea how far that scream traveled, but it's possible that if you happened to be in the radius it could cause some of the silver magic to…reach your soul and seed the bond?” You explain. 

“This is speculation…but I can't help but feel it's a possibility and I'm so, So Sorry, for pulling you into all this.” You say, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes again. 

After a moment, Lana reaches out and grasps your hand. “Please don't blame yourself, I mean…you couldn't have known your power would do that. If that's even what happened in the first place.” She pleads with you through her eyes. “This is Not your fault.”

You wish you could believe that as deeply as she seems to. But before you can move to your next point, Keed speaks up. 

“Indeed, it is Not the only possibility.” He states grimly.

The others look at him, Lana included. They note his fear and…like he's remembering something painful. “Keedy?” Lana asks, reaching for him. 

Keed takes her hand, and brings it to his lips. “Forgive me my precious jewel. But I have withheld something from you.”

“Are you sure you wish to discuss it?” Zarial asks his shoal mate. But Anrir interjects. 

“After All that has happened I feel I must Insist that you do.” He says, and you feel your stomach twinge a bit at the growl under his tone. 

Orlys shoots him a look. “The experience was Not a pleasant one. Give him a moment.” 

“I will give him as many moments as he needs, but my patience is Not limitless.” Anrir responds cooly. 

“You needn't tell me twice.” Keed assures. “I did not explain this as I Hoped this could be resolved without bringing it up. In fact I'd hoped to put the entire event behind me and Never have to consider it again. But…I Too have had an Encounter, with the Space Marine you speak of.”

Khopesh's arm wraps around your shoulders just a hair tighter. “You Knew where the malignant psychery came from, and you Did Not tell us?”

“As I said, I Desperately wanted it to not be needed. I could see and recognize the psychery and it's origin…but I had No Idea that it had actually latched onto Lana as an intense bond.” Keed elaborates. “As Talos told you, we noticed Lana's condition began to deteriorate about two months ago and before the most recent Sanguinala celebration. Slightly Before that, is when…He found me.” 

You note how Keed shudders, but he composes himself quickly and continues. 

“I was just walking home after a patrol. And I suppose he thought I was an easy mark.” He growls. “It must've been shortly after he was zapped here. He…he invaded my Mind, he Plundered my memories for information.” He breathes sharply. “And I Know he could've seen Lana, there.”

Realizing what he's implying, you ask a plaintive question. “Do you think Him seeing Lana through Your memories could be enough to seed a bond?”

Keed lets out a heavy breath. “I don't know…after he'd violated my mind. He placed a mental block upon my memories so that I would not remember seeing him. Pfft! It's almost Merciful compared to what most Grey Knights would usually do.” He shakes his head. “After that I went about my normal life until my brothers pointed out the gaps in my memory, and I could get the block removed. The bastard even had the Audacity to attach a small psychic flare to the block, so that when it was undone it would lash out at whoever tried to remove it.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose as he finishes. “Fortunately, it wasn't able to cause much harm due to Ancient Terra's psychic weakening effect. I thought I could put this aside but now I Wonder…could seeing our precious jewel through My memories, or even coming home with the silver bastard's spell still attached to me…could That be the reason our Lana was affected so?”

“I…I don't know…” You hmm, and decide to mix your tea and take a sip. “But I guess no matter how it happened…we have to figure out how to move forward.”

The Hydras glance between each other, perhaps having another mental exchange. Eventually Zarius speaks. 

“What are our options?” 

It takes you a moment, but you are actually a little shaken by them addressing you so directly. I mean up until this point your figured it would be: do your magic removal services and bounce but now…

Now things are far Far more complicated, and this group of Alpha Legion who are far more experienced and dangerous than you could ever be…are looking to you for guidance. 

You glance to Anrir, who gives you a weary smile. “The ball is..How do you say? In your court my child. It has to be as you are the only one here who can affect bonds.”

You take a moment, then you nod, and fold your hands together to think. 

Then you speak. “Well the way I see it we have two options.” You announce. “Option one is leaving the intense bond as it is. I'm pretty sure it would be called…incomplete at this stage, and we develop a schedule where I can treat Lana regularly so the bond's effects don't have a chance to become so severe again. The drawbacks would of course be travel for either of us as Lana would have to come to me or vis versa. I also won't disregard the possibility of diminishing returns…no that's not the right world ah…”

“Medicinal Resistance?” Anrir supplies. 

You snap your fingers. “That! Yes, there's no guarantee my treatments will remain effective, for all we know every time we trim the bond back it could just regrow faster each time. And that's not even considering the risk of jumping into the Silver bitch's brain again by accident.” 

You lift your other hand for emphasis. “The Other option is bond rejection, if you refuse it the bond will die and wither and I'll be able to swoop in and prune it the rest of the way.” You say. “Come to think of it I might have to prune the bond from His side in order for it to be properly removed and not affect the Hydra bonds more.”

Lana leans forward. “Rejection. No question!” She states emphatically. “There's no way I'd want to be bonded to someone like that!”

A beat passes, and you almost expect to get a call from Hura about Draco thrashing in agony from the bond snapping. But…nothing seems to change. 

Lana follows up. “So…how do I do that?”

You chew and shift your lips around as you think. “Good…question. I mean in theory saying ‘I don't want this’ should be enough but…” You pull on your warp sight and…

The ugly silver Tumor is still there. You cuss under your breath. 

“Yeah of course it's not gonna be that easy…” You sigh, putting your head in your hands. 

Anrir strokes his chin. “Well…you did say the bond seems incomplete. Perhaps it must be made complete Before it can be refused?”

You stare at him. “Are you saying we have to bring Lana to Him?”

““ABSOLUTELY NOT!”” Keed and Zarius snarl in unison which startles you and causes Khopesh to grab you into his lap. 

“You must be Losing your Mind in your old age, Nightlord! If you think we'll let our Lana anywhere Near that Monster!” Zarius actually stalks over to Anrir, but before he can get properly in his face (bad idea, bad bad idea) Claude gets in his way. 

Anrir remains completely calm, but does speak slightly louder so he can be heard over Claude's defensive growls. “I believe this is your mate's choice as She is the one affected.”

Zarius's growls cut off and he whips his face towards Lana with a panicked expression. All the other Hydras look at her with similar expressions. 

Lana thinks for a moment then meets Anrir's eyes. “You know what? Yes.”

“Lana!” “Precious jewel you Cannot be serious!” “It's far too dangerous!”

“Enough.” The protests cut off with that single word, and she slides down from Zariel's lap and approaches Anrir with a confidence fueled by rage. 

“Let's go Meet this…what did you say he was?”

“Grey Knight.” 

“Fuckface, got it.” Lana nods. 

Zarius and Keed both try to plead directly with Lana. “My Pearl Please, you don't know how Dangerous he is!” “He could invade your mind and do Throne knows What to it Please Reconsider!”

Lana turns to the Hydras with a sharp look. “I want to see him. Not because he's apparently bonded to me, but Because I want to give him a damn piece of my mind!” She states. “He's made All out lives so much harder and for What!?”

Claude chimes in. “Ah…at the time he insisted the psychery inclined Scouts come with him to receive more…training. Ugh.”

“Abuse, he was going to ‘train’ them with abuse.” You supply, flexing your fingers with displeasure. 

Lana gestures emphatically at your explanations. “See!? Even if Nothing else can be done. I want to march up to that…that…that Son of a Bitch and tell him! I wanna tell him he's Damn well out of Luck because I've already got some Great Astartes for partners and I Don't Want Him!” 

The Hydras seem touched by Lana's compliment towards them. “Oh Lana…”

Zarius cooes, wrapping her in his arms. 

The others follow soon, they're still unsure but…they love their Lana and want her to get better. 

Also seeing her chew out the Grey Knight would be Amazing, if also stressful and scary to think of her being that close to such a monstrous beast. 

Finally Talos speaks up. “You won't let him replace us right…if the bond ends up sticking?” He asks and his voice is so, so painfully genuine. 

Lana pulls back a bit so she can look him in the eye. “Never!” She promises, bringing her hand up to gently brush his face. “Even if he Didn't do all those awful things and approached me like the perfect gentleman…I'd never oust Any of you for him. You're not dolls or toys to be thrown away when a new shiny one comes. You're Mine, and you're…you're damn near the best things I've ever loved.”

“”’’💙 LANA! 💙""” The Hydras cry in unison and hold her even tighter. They press enthusiastic kisses to her face and she giggles at the ticklish feeling of being overwhelmed by affection. 

You smile at the scene, and feel a familiar warmth bloom in your chest. You turn to Khopesh, who smiles at you but is also wrinkling his nose a Little bit at the abundant PDA going on. But he can't deny he'd do the same to you if there were five of him. So he decides to focus on pressing his lips to your forehead. 

Anrir and Claude stand by, one imagining his own bonded love, and the other well…

“If I ever get bonded will I become so…forward?” Claude asks his adopted father, which causes Anrir to chuckle. 

“Perhaps, perhaps not my boy.” He answers, with a smile. 

[mochilatae]

Everybody Here Wants You (Namjoon x Fem Reader)

Word Count: 8.92k (ish)

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem Reader/YN

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Standing/wall sex, flirting, alcohol consumption, oral sex (you receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple/implied squirting orgasms, nipple biting/sucking, kissing, intense sex, tension, hair pulling, scratching.

Genre: PwP, Strangers to lovers

AUs: None

Summary: You're traveling for work and it's the same old grind. You stop for a drink and some people watching but eventually discover you aren't as invisible as you think.

Author’s Note: Based on a song and inspired by an idea from @worldwideseal.

The usual: ignore typos or any other 'errors' you may find and just enjoy the story. Thank you for reading!

If you like it and want to leave a kudo, please feel free. Reblogging is appreciated but never required.

Tag List: @kiestrokes @askkrisachan

The bar air was warm when you stepped inside.

The difference was a welcome relief to the chill that built up on the walk from the hotel. In spite of all the places you’d traveled throughout the fall and winter seasons, the cold was one thing that could still take you by surprise.

At least this time you’d remembered an overcoat and added it to the others on hooks near the door a moment later. Coats had owners. That meant people socializing, which wasn’t a bad thing–even if you weren’t in the mood for conversation. It beat another night in the hotel room, staring at the TV and going through 200 channels with nothing appealing to watch.

That was the one thing you’d learned in the entirety of your travels across the country so far: you alone, staring at a wall was NOT a good combination. 

Finding your way further into the bar space, you looked around again, taking a little extra time to note shapes and bodies. People were seated at tables all around. There was a calm murmur underpinning the vague sound of music coming from a jukebox in the farthest right corner. 

The figures at the bar glanced your way with impassive stares. A few seated patrons gave a cursory nod in passing. Eyes followed you all the way to where you’d stopped: the end of the bar closest to the small dance space in front of the jukebox. 

The bodies there still swayed to the music as you turned your back on the view, bracing an elbow on the bar edge. The bartender was already headed your way and matched your leaning posture, smiling briefly.

“What do you need tonight?” 

You scanned the shelves behind him and vaguely pointed. “The Prosecco on the 3rd shelf there—any good?”  

He didn’t look back and his smile changed his features, reaching his eyes finally. There was a subtle sag in his shoulders. Clearly he hadn’t determined you to be a pain in the ass and that was a relief. You wondered how many difficult customers he got each night. The weary and cranky ones from travel, stressed about a missed or canceled flight and looking to take it out on the first inconvenience they encountered.

People could be awful about their liquor. 

Compared to that all you wanted was a corner seat, in the dark with a good sparkling wine. There wasn’t much more of a simple fix for your occasional bad mood. 

“I don’t have many requests for it, but–” He shrugged and picked a wine glass and set it on the counter. “--It’s a good choice, if you ask me.” 

You grinned, watching as he twisted his wrist, working the corkscrew end of the opener deep into the cork. Eventually you replied. 

“Well…I did. I’ll give it a shot.” 

“Sounds good.” He tipped the bottle and poured just under a half portion then paused, glancing briefly. “...More?” 

You squinted, having a moment of debate before you nodded, making a tiny pinching gesture. “Maybe just a little bit.. It’s been a long day.” 

“I hear that a lot..” He chuckled, carefully pushing the glass towards you. Once he’d put the bottle back and returned, there was another lull as he leaned both arms against the bar top and watched you bring the rim to your lips.

It was hard to tell what the color was as you let the first mouthful swill over the back of your tongue. This bar lighting played tricks, giving goldenrod and rose hues to the bubbling liquid swilling in the glass. 

“Thoughts?” He asked, both brows raised slightly. Despite not smiling, he had a hopeful, curious look. You were a little fonder of this bartender compared to others in cities around the country. He didn’t act jaded enough about human interaction to have been at this job for a long time.  

You set the glass down again, swallowed quickly, then wiped at the lingering tickle in your nose. The wine bubbles were doing a mischief and you hadn’t quite gotten used to it. 

“It’s good. I’m not a wine expert, but.. I could buy a bottle of this for my place.” 

“And where is that?” 

“Pardon?” You grabbed a napkin, dotting your lips dry. 

“Your place–the city. Where are you from?” He WAS going the extra mile. Not that he needed to. You’d planned to tip, closing the tab later. 

“Are you always this friendly with patrons or is it just my lucky night?” You blinked, then leaned back a little, hands lightly gripped on the bar edge. It wasn’t that you could even help asking–this kind of interest and friendliness was rarer than a 2 dollar bill in your travels this month. The bartender smirked and stood upright slowly. 

“The crowd’s a little thin tonight and you didn’t look stressed so I figured it was worth making some conversation. Hope that’s okay?” As he spoke, the man kept his hands busy, rearranging glasses, body still facing you. The pattern of clinks and thunks while his hands were out of view told you he was doing the busy work stuff–another endless part of his job, no doubt. 

“I don’t mind it. To be honest I haven’t met a bartender who even talked to me beyond the drink order in all the places I’ve been lately.” Saying the city name, when it finally left your lips, brought his eyes back up, shining with curiosity again. 

“I haven’t been there. Is it as low energy downtown as this city?” 

“You want more action? I guess you could say don’t go there if you do–there are busier cities. Like…I don’t know..LA. Baltimore…wherever the mode seems to be 24/7.” It wasn’t your thing. You preferred a hometown pace–calm and steady. Even if that meant trading the excitement of keeping your mind and senses busy with people or places. 

“Don’t necessarily like that city nightlife stuff either. The pace is a bit…much. But I can say sometimes it would just hit the spot to go out and be crazy for a few hours. Ever feel that way?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I find those urges are a little quieter traveling so much like I do. But..the money is good and I can’t complain. I get plenty of vacation time every year. My flight miles account balance has never been higher.” 

The bartender gave a warm chuckle. “I like that attitude.” A brief pat on the bar, then he half turned away as a figure approached the other end of the bar. “I’ll be here if you want another glass or get the urge to try anything else on the shelves.” 

“Thanks…” You smiled back and picked up the wine glass again. Although you’d only taken two decent sips, it was nearly down to half again. Another mouthful went down your throat and you continued. “..I guess you would probably get sick of the whole bar scene seeing as it’s your job.” 

“It does wear on me sometimes. The busier parts of the travel seasons make it an uphill battle but I can’t say I’m mad at the money I make.”

“Speaking of which..” Your hand went for your clutch, resting nearby. Digging around inside you eventually came out with cash. A folded wad of bills that looked impressive. Counting a few out, you laid them on the bar and pushed them his way. 

This time he looked at the money, then his eyes came up. “You don’t have to.” 

“I’m not a fan of zero tips.” 

“I’m already ahead for the night.”

You couldn’t be sure if he was telling the truth on that as it didn’t look like a very busy night from your perspective, but you’d only been here for a short while and more customers had come in. 

“I’ll leave it here. You can take it or maybe someone with sticky fingers will do you the favor and help themselves.” Adding a playful wink, you turned away with glass in hand. Clutch in the other hand, you stood up fully and turned towards the music that suddenly didn’t seem so bland or muted. 

This place had good wine and a great selection on the jukebox. You’d have to remember it when you came through again–whenever that happened to be. As you sauntered towards the dance space the bartender called out a ‘Thanks’. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

“You didn’t dance.” 

You’d reached for your coat when the voice spoke at your back. The only person who’d spoken to you before was the bartender and this DEFINITELY wasn’t his voice. You looked over one shoulder.

No mistaking: this was not the bartender. Silly you, thinking it would be and he’d somehow changed his voice. Could the Prosecco be that strong to warp your perception? You had every drop in the glass but it wasn’t a full serving. 

You turned fully to face the man who’d spoken to you. No doubt who he’d approached and talked to: you were the only person in the entrance space by the door. All the other coats had gone home with their owners. Or back to hotels—wherever they went, you were alone now. 

Or so you’d thought.

The bartender had become a friendly shadow, slowly moving from one end of the bar to the other after the lingering customers were cashed out and long gone. It seemed the bar was as empty as the dance space and tables. Clearly you were wrong.

“Excuse me?” You were openly bewildered and whoever this man was, he didn’t seem to take it personally, based on the genial but measured smile on his face. 

“The music… You stood over there by the jukebox and didn’t dance. Not a fan of the music?” 

You looked across the way, to the dark shape that was formerly bathed with electric colors and humming all night with music that turned out to be not too shabby. A few songs even had your hips swaying but you’d figured no one cared enough to look. That’s what you got for assuming.

“I’m not into dancing in public much..” You immediately regretted the complete bullshit that just streamed from your lips and focused on squeezing the woolen fabric in your grasp. 

“Unusual place to be then–near the jukebox.. Is that like tempting yourself by sitting near the desserts at a buffet when you’re on a diet?” 

“Okay,” You sighed. “..That was a lie. I guess I just didn’t have anyone to dance with so I didn’t bother.” 

“That’s a shame.” After he paused and glanced at his watch, the man looked towards the jukebox, now cooled against a shadowed corner. 

“It is closing time anyway..” You began anew, working to finish putting the coat on. The man’s cough caught your attention and you looked over, surprised to find his eyes on you again.

He was pleasingly tall–dark eyes and dark hair almost the same shade. It was far too hard to tell if the color was black or brown in this minimal lighting. 

“It is.” He agreed. 

“Time to go.” You hinted. Outside those doors was the promise of a darker, slightly colder walk to the hotel and your unit on the third floor. At least this place had a working elevator. 

“..I wanted to dance too.” 

“Hmm?” You’d finally pulled your coat on, hesitating. This guy was still talking to you–for real. You looked around him, tickled in a strange way at how far you had to lean in order to see the bartender far beyond with his back to the place as he stood at the open till. 

“I didn’t have a partner either. Would you like to dance?” 

“Didn’t you just agree that it was closing time?”

“Yes.” 

“So that means no more drinks. No more music. No more food. We leave, like everyone else, and call it a night.” 

“I don’t think I want that.” He responded, dark brows going even over his eyes without any menace. There was a kind of determination in his narrowed stare. You didn’t quite know how to question it so you went with the common sense angle again.

“Unless you’re the owner, it’s not about what you or anyone else wants. We’re customers and this place is closed. I’d rather not get trespassed and spend the night in jail. My room at The Green Tree is acceptable. I’ve got a lot of traveling to do tomorrow and the risk versus reward is a bit more than I’d care to entertain tonight, in all fairness.” 

The man smiled wider, looking you over with a measure of enjoyment. Whether it was something you said or how you’d said it, he seemed impressed. And you had to admit, you liked bowling over strangers. It served you well in business. 

“Well put. Is there any chance that you’d dance with me somewhere else?” 

“You’re starting awfully late to try and pick me up.” You teased, equally surprised but more delighted than he’d been at the boldness and timing. You’d been hit on before–that wasn’t a new thing.

“I’m not sure. I honestly just want to dance. I saw you were alone and I’m alone. My timing isn’t the best, but…” He paused and looked again towards the jukebox.

“If I can get the okay, would you dance with me? Just one dance. I can’t explain but it would just close the night up so perfectly.” 

You took another look at this man, from head to toe. It was a long way to go as he proved a good deal taller but he was well dressed in dark slacks and a button up. If he’d walked here too, he was going to be chilly strolling back to his home or motel or…wherever without something more to cover up. 

“How were you planning on getting the go-ahead for this dance?” 

“The bartender is still here. I’ll ask. Doesn’t hurt to try.” 

You watched as the man turned and made his way to the bar. The bartender paused and glanced back. After a moment of what you assumed was the strangest conversation he’d probably had this week, the bartender nodded.

When the man returned he wore the most relaxed, pleased smile that showed a perfect set of dimples,mirroring each other on each cheek. Your mouth hung open a little as the man spoke. 

“We’re good for one dance. Come on..” 

Disbelief flowed through you watching the overcoat return to a hook. When the man held out his arm, you took it and walked with him. The corner he led you too looked much bigger when empty, even full of shadows. 

“I think we should get on a first name basis, at a bare minimum.” You suggested, watching as the man walked to the jukebox and felt around the back. It was more than a few seconds before a neon glow fired in all directions, washing the dance space in a rainbow of colors as the machine came alive. 

“First names… Reasonable enough. You can call me Namjoon.” The man replied, standing again, then dipped a hand into his pocket while the other arm braced across the jukebox. He scanned the selection menu and you heard the familiar, muffled jingle of change shifting.

You smoothed hair away from your forehead with an even sigh, feeling the first twinge of nervousness in the silence. “Well..Namjoon, I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Eyes narrowed, he continued to debate. Namjoon was taking this more seriously than you would have, given what was likely a spur of the moment decision. “The options on this thing are impressive. …Do you have a preference?” He said.

You tried peeking at the options but only made out glowing white and the unintelligible scrawl of black print. Time to throw caution to the wind. It wasn’t like you’d paid much attention to the music the whole time you’d been here earlier. 

“Not really. This was your idea.” You managed a quick smile. 

Meeting Namjoon and taking him up on his offer was enough of a surprise that you could do without the added pressure of deciding for you both when you didn’t know anything about him at this point. Musical preferences could be a very touchy thing. 

A quarter dropped into the coin slot and Namjoon stabbed one of the many buttons, then turned your way and held out a hand. It was a slow stroll to the empty dance space. As he drew close and looped an arm around your middle you stole one last quick look around, still not quite believing this was happening OR that everyone was really gone, except for the helpful bartender.

A gentle tug at your mid section drew your eyes to his as Namjoon began to lightly sway to the music starting to swell. Without the crowding voices of other bar patrons the music seemed much louder and filled the space impressively enough to chase away everything else around you both. 

“Hey..” Namjoon gently chuckled. “...Bad choice or—?”

“No.” You quickly shook your head and fingers curled around his palm as it cupped your hand. It was more of a nervous reaction than anything else but his brow still lifted quizzically. You pushed on, focusing on matching his steps but keeping passive enough to let him lead. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing..” You replied. “I just… It’s not every night I end up dancing with a stranger in a bar after closing.”

“Well..I guess there’s always a first. You HAVE danced with a stranger before, right?” The added wink and dimple on his cheek when he grinned was making you soft in the center. Your fingers tightened again and this time you were quietly surprised at the responsive pressure of his grip pulsing.

It wasn’t just body heat rolling up from the gently, sagging opening at the top of your blouse. It was a rush of embarrassment or maybe desire. Neither of which you were prepared for and both suited the moment perfectly. “Yeah, of course. Maybe not in an empty bar with the whole place locked up.” 

Namjoon looked over your shoulder as he turned your back towards the bar and squinted in the direction where you vaguely recalled the bartender had been drying glasses and trying hard to make it not look like he’d been staring–not that there was anything else to look at while he did whatever closing duties still needed to be done. 

“Doesn’t seem like he’s locked the doors yet…” 

“He probably wants to..” You stopped briefly and Namjoon hesitated, then you were turning again, making wide side steps across the space and gently listing left, then right. It was getting warmer. The music and heat closing in around you. 

“Probably. …The song’s almost over—and that’s a shame.” Namjoon murmured, nose teasingly close to yours. By now you were over those nerves, finding they were pushed down and out by something else: a pleasant pressure that squeezed your belly tight and made your nerves taut but not in a fearful way. 

The flat, firm pressure of Namjoon’s palm rose up your spine as he slowed a little, following the crawl of the music and the smokey vocals, bringing you both back towards the jukebox and bringing his handsome features into hypnotic shades of red, green and blue. 

“It is?” 

“Yeah.” His smile stayed, glowing just right under these electric colors. You were practically standing still, swaying on two firmly planted feet with this broad arm belted at the small of your back and the sudden taste of some nice cologne rushing through your nostrils, riding directly to your brain. “..That means we have to stop. I won’t lie..It’s been a long time since I danced like this.” 

“With a stranger?” 

“With anyone.” Namjoon whispered over the final strains of the last few notes as the song disappeared and the world around you went quiet. You heard an errant thunk in the jukebox and then nothing further. The lights were still washing you both as he gazed down into your eyes. 

“Sounds bad, I bet.” He was trying to get ahead of what he didn’t know: your opinion on that detail and save face maybe, by playing the odds. But he was wrong. You thought no differently about him.

“I wouldn’t say that.” You offered with a shift of both shoulders. Namjoon’s gentle possession of your hand ended as he let it go but his touch returned to your nearer hip. You didn’t move to remedy that. His chest expanded as he took a breath. 

“Well.. I’m glad. We don’t know much about each other.. But can I tell you something?” 

“Sure.” You almost breathed. You didn’t plan to be here much longer before flying out to your next destination, but you suddenly wanted to know as much as you could about this man. His wants and needs. What he was searching for and what he left behind at home–wherever that could be.

“I really liked dancing with you.”

You couldn’t help smiling and Namjoon’s smile widened when yours broke. “Yeah?” 

He chuckled, adding “Even if it’s been a bit and I’m rusty.. Guess it’s true–dancing is one of those things you don’t really forget. One of nature’s blessings to the human being.” Namjoon stepped back and you almost grasped at his shirt to pull him close again. The heat and the sweet–both you wanted all over you again. It was suddenly too cold and getting dark as the jukebox flickered. 

“Where—” You began but Namjoon spoke again, leaning near the side of the jukebox. It went completely dead and dark a moment later as he unplugged it and dropped the cord to the floor. He was upright, hand extended to you in no time. The relief that came taking hold right now was unsurpassed.

“--Let’s go. That guy probably wants to get home. I’m thinking we should take the hint. Would you mind if I got us an Uber?”

“Where are you staying?” You didn’t quite recognize the name of the hotel when Namjoon said it but if you could make any assumptions you pictured it as a basic, mid range place. Most of the hotels around this town were fair to good on Yelp. He didn’t look like he slummed it. 

“You?” He asked, taking his phone out as he walked you both to the door and collected his coat, minutes later. You nodded to the bartender as he waved briefly, then turned and grabbed your coat, leaving the last hook empty finally. Just how long HAD you two been here and how much time had you lost? This was a new and strange experience. 

You gave the hotel name again and Namjoon shrugged into his coat with a humming smile. “Yeah. I thought about that place but I also wanted to change it up. I regret it. My room has about 100 less channels on the TV. Not worth the savings.” 

“You’re not missing much with those extra channels, trust me.” You replied. Namjoon’s palm rested on the door, then pushed it open to reveal the night, a bit colder and damper than you’d left it. 

“That’s a relief.” He smiled. Namjoon took a glance outside, then nodded towards the empty sidewalk just beyond. “Let’s go. Uber is on the way and I want to make sure I get you back at a reasonable time.” 

You had no idea what time it really was but based on the size of the moon in the sky and the nearly deathly silence outside, it couldn’t be early. The entire world seemed asleep out there which meant late enough you could hope to get just enough sleep to be coherent at the continental breakfast tomorrow. 

“Thank you again.” You slipped through the open door and footsteps followed you after it shut. Namjoon kept up with easy strides, all the way to the curb and stood almost shoulder to shoulder. You should work up enough nerve to lift his nearer arm and tuck yourself into the warmth there. There was a quiet contemplation in the way his gaze went to the sky as he waited, then finally replied. 

“No need. I want you back in your room safely. That’s non-negotiable.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------

 “Have you ever done this before?” You asked, watching Namjoon open the door to his room. He barely paused after sliding the key card back into his coat pocket to smile over one shoulder. 

“Can you clarify? If you’re talking about staying here, yes.” 

You grinned, following him through the open door, then let it shut behind you as lights came on throughout the room. This place was quite a bit different than your room: a longer hallway leading from the door to the main space and you noted what looked like an impressively sized bed. You’d sprung for a single but you were sure your bed wasn’t nearly this big. 

“I’m talking about having someone come back to your room that you just met---a stranger..” 

“I wouldn’t say we’re strangers,Y/n. We know each other’s names and we had a very nice dance.” 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the large, wall-mounted mirror opposite the end of the bed as Namjoon hung his coat on a hook and tossed the contents of his pockets on the TV stand nearby. For a moment you didn’t recognize yourself: the large eyes and the nervousness all over your face. In your work life you didn’t ever show this much panic. 

But in your work life you didn’t tend to dance with strangers after closing in empty businesses. And they weren’t nearly as handsome as Namjoon naturally was.

Dutifully you slid your coat off and hung it on one of two chairs neatly pushed in against a small table tucked against one corner. Namjoon was at the window and pulled the curtains open a little with an outward sweep of both arms–a gesture that drew your attention. The impressive width of his upper body, hugged by a fitted dress shirt, kept your attention.

At a loss for where to put yourself and feeling a bit more exposed with your overcoat gone, your fingers laced together as you stood and stared. Eventually Namjoon turned his back on the view and smiled again. 

“Am I still a stranger to you? We can fix that.” 

Feeling all kinds of knots suddenly kinking up your insides, you barely smiled. “Kind of.. There’s plenty of things I don’t know about you.” 

“I’m an open book. Ask me anything.” 

“...Why are you here? Is it a work thing?” 

“Something like that.” More dimples as Namjoon strolled closer, fingers working to loosen the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. He rolled the material, standing well within your grasp. All you could do was stand here, inhaling more teasing notes of his cologne–and that was better than the gaudy floral smell of a freshly cleaned hotel room. 

“That’s a cagey answer, Namjoon. Are you a secret agent or a health inspector or something?” 

He chuckled and you went warm from your scalp to your soles. His forearms looked strong, shifting a little as he crossed his arms, head tilting in amusement. 

“Nothing nearly as fun. Let’s just say I do risk assessment. Just..boring stuff.” 

“No kidding?”

He nodded and you watched his Adam’s apple slowly go up, then down.

That bed was neatly made. Either he did it or took advantage of the maid service and liked neatness. The way he had his room still almost picture perfect was fascinating to you. 

No question how it would look like your luggage exploded in your room if you’d asked him to come back instead. You hadn’t quite gotten the nerve and right now you couldn’t be sure if he was a neat freak, just careful with his choices, or not quite settled in yet. 

“What’s your line of work?” A fair question and one you should have expected. Even so, you kept it vague enough.

“I work in sales. Just as boring..” 

“Yes.” He winked, arms back down to his sides. “I wasn’t that good as a sales person. I don’t like making people want something and getting their money for it.” 

“It’s not quite like that for me.” You countered. The tension relaxed in your belly and you took another look around as Namjoon turned away with a sigh, then walked towards the basic coffee maker on the counter near the tv stand. Even his kitchen space had a little more. This place would have to be on the list of suggestions for your next company sponsored work trip–which would come way, WAY too soon.

“Isn’t it? Good.” Namjoon unwrapped two plastic cups from their sterile packaging and set them side by side, then squatted down and opened a small black fridge just below the counter. 

“Wow. You have a fridge too?” Even though he’d loosened his cuffs and rolled his sleeves, the back of his shirt was still perfectly taut, showing off a good amount of muscle in motion while he hunted around in the cold, confined space.

“Doesn’t your room get one? This place doesn’t have the best towels but honestly these fridges are pretty impressive for the size. There’s a bucket on the bedside table–with ice. Can you bring it over here?” 

His request felt so easy and normal. For a brief moment it was like you two had always shared this space. No hesitation. No nervousness. Namjoon asked for what he wanted and his request was simple.

That was why he got what he wanted as you returned with the black ice bucket, lid going onto the counter, then the bucket too as you set it down carefully. There was ice nearly to the top. 

“My room has some amenities. A coffee machine and these huge bath towels–maybe they’re even sheets but..” 

“Sounds pretty damn good, honestly. I love big bath towels. And the soft ones..” He hummed, then grunted, standing with a modest size, dark green bottle. Your eyes went to the label as he peeled the foil off the top. 

“...Champagne? Here?” 

He grinned bigger and tossed the balled up foil onto the counter. It was bottle top, not a cork as you'd expected. Namjoon shook his head, popping the cap off a moment later with a firm push of his thumb, seeming unbothered at the clatter as it skidded then bounced across the counter top to disappear. 

“We’re on a budget. Martinelli's…that okay?” 

“Absolutely. I love that stuff, actually.” Emboldened, you stepped close and grabbed one of the cups. Namjoon tutted but didn’t do more than fake a frown, bringing the bottle towards your glass. 

“Ice?” 

“Maybe the next round.” As he poured the thin plastic cup chilled in moments. Carefully your grip tightened. Namjoon poured himself a glass, dropped in a few ice pieces, then set the bottle on the counter. 

He took a testing sip, then swallowed and his chin jerked towards the bed. “Let’s get comfortable.” 

Wordless, you took a massive swallow and followed, resting one ass cheek on the edge of the bed–as much as you could get away with and look like you were mostly sitting properly. Why you couldn’t sit more casually was a mystery but your belly somersaulted at the way the bed sank down when Namjoon’s weight lowered onto it just out of reach. 

“Did you really like the dance?” You asked. Mostly you believed but still couldn’t understand that it was you chosen for the experience. Already it beggared belief that you’d walked into that place tonight and Namjoon noticed you, let alone approached you. Just how long had he been watching your self debate by the jukebox? 

“Why wouldn’t I? I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to dance. Sometimes you just miss the human contact.” 

“We’re both traveling for work…we run into people a lot. That’s human contact, isn’t it?” 

“Not quite, Y/n.” Namjoon finished his drink, leaned over and set the cup on the bedside table. Sitting back upright he was much taller than you too, just like when he was standing. Or like when he’d pulled you close and moved to the beat, swaying oh so nicely. Naturally. The way you’d forgotten a dance could feel, with another body against your own.

“The basic interactions of traveling or living your life, day to day, that’s one thing. It’s easy to socialize and satisfy that urge. There’s something missing from that–something I keep thinking about, even on the go lately.” 

Having no one to go home to was never a problem or something you noticed until tonight. 

“You know what I’m saying, Y/n?” Namjoon’s gaze was on you when your eyes found it a moment later. Even though it was a warm, patient stare you still flinched. You could fall into those eyes and never climb out, work schedule be damned. You couldn’t fly across the world to escape this feeling. “..Do you miss it?” 

“Miss it?” 

Namjoon flashed a measured smile then scooted closer. The bed sank further, the shift pulling you closer with a gentle lean. The way you’d found yourself inclined earlier, in the dim bar, swaying through the gentle strains of the song he’d chosen. 

To your surprise he stood, holding one hand out again. You were surprised and confused, watching with eyes a bit wider. 

“Stand up.”

When you were on your feet Namjoon gave a gentle tug and your front was pressed close again. This time Namjoon’s arm wrapped higher up on your back. The slow, easy motion was back–a left to right shifting to some beat only he could hear. He spoke again. 

“This is what I mean.. I like this. Don’t you, Y/n?” 

The temperature in the room was rising and the first of many things was happening: a section of your nape and lower back were dampening. Right between the breasts would be next. You lifted your eyes, head tipped to stare up at Namjoon’s face to reply.

“It does feel good. Dancing..” 

“I don’t mean the dancing. There’s no music, but we don’t really need that to be like this, do we?” 

“No.” You took a deep breath, rewarded again with an undiluted Namjoon scent. His free hand ran along your side and settled on your hip, lightly gripping the curve.

Motion slowed more and his lips came closer. The kiss happened so slowly. The warmth of his mouth had you moaning and the kiss deepened rapidly. His jaw flexed and yours did the same. Another moan and Namjoon pulled back, running his lips down the side of your neck and pecked at your collarbone. You sank fingers into flesh and material.

He stopped under your ear on the other side of your neck. “Seems like we understand each other pretty well, hmm?” Namjoon chuckled against your skin. “Can I be a little bold and tell you how much I wanted you tonight?” 

“Yeah?” With a moan you slid fingers along his scalp.  

“Yes. Watched you for a long time after you came in. You’re beautiful–Never seen anyone like you.. I bet everyone there wanted you.” 

“Namjoon..” You grunted, feeling painfully shy and wanting to roll your eyes at the same time but he put an end to further objection when his teeth sank into your lower lip. After it slid free he pecked where he'd bitten.

“That’s what I think..” He growled. “..You’re here with me. I wanted that more than anything and I’m not a guy who gives up on things I want.” 

“Doesn’t seem so..” You managed, head going back and senses tipping into the beginning of euphoria. 

Palms cupped under your ass, bringing you higher. You could barely gasp when your feet left the floor. Namjoon started to walk, only stopping when your back met a wall by where you’d entered the room.

“W….what–” 

Namjoon’s mouth slid across yours, then sank against you for another kiss. He front crushed closer, the weight pinning you in place. He looped one arm around your midsection and used the other hand to feel around your hips. 

“If you want me to stop, I will Y/n.”

You didn’t want it to stop. In fact your body was humming for more, faster. You squeezed thighs tighter around Namjoon’s waist and he groaned, clawing each side of your leggings down to expose both hips before he paused. 

“Need some room…” He whispered, pulling back to look down between your bodies. Your legs fell free to let him move. Namjoon didn’t waste time, shoving the bottoms down to your ankles. The flats you wore dropped to the floor and he flung the leggings away. 

You’d already begun to hook thumbs into the waist of your panties when Namjoon took a knee and buried his mouth against your mound.

You froze. It wasn’t more than a blink and your hands instinctually found handfuls of his hair for a firm grasp. He wasn’t going anywhere and you were holding on for dear life–two mutually exclusive facts about the evolving situation.

As he kissed, Namjoon murmured, bathing your prickling skin with praises. Comments on how good you smelled and tasted after each peck and lick. Broad, wet lines along your skin, running over both hip bones and down to where your thighs joined, did wonders to make your core red hot. 

By the time he tugged the panties to your calves and they shuffled down to the ankles, your moan was floating through the hotel room air–and Namjoon’s tongue was swabbing right down your folds. He came right back up as fingers clutched and yanked the panties off. After a kiss to the inside of one thigh, Namjoon was back up and found the back of your knee, gripping the sensitive space just being, to haul your thigh back up. 

Somewhere between kneeling and standing, Namjoon had taken care of his own bottoms. They were pooled around his ankles with the belt leading impact in a confirming thump. The warmth of his erect, bare cock grazed against your hip as he pressed you to the wall again. 

Your other leg circled him to join, ankles crossing just above his bare ass. You didn’t need to see it to know: he had a fantastic ass. There hadn’t exactly been a known plan for seeing this much of him, but you could safely bet you’d get a good look at his backside later and it would more than make up for a lack in this moment. 

Namjoon’s shoulders flexed as he ducked his head and nuzzled along your top. Having his power to keep you steady left you free a hand from holding his hair to pull your top high. As high as you could manage: just above your breasts, exposing the delicate lace of your bra. It was a slightly flirty number, even if you hadn’t expected it to be seen. 

An approving growl rippled through Namjoon’s throat as he stopped at one breast and inhaled against skin. One sucking kiss later and he popped free, leaving the beginnings of what felt like a strong love bite. Arousal surged through your body, concentrating right into your pussy. You whined. 

Clenching gently, Namjoon brought that up down and captured that exposed nipple, tugging once. When you winced, he mumbled something and soothed with a wet, sucking kiss that puckered the skin almost immediately. 

You weren’t sure you’d ever expected yourself to see this angle of a hotel room during sex, having only ever had experience from the bed, but life threw happy changes your direction tonight and the trend only seemed to be continuing. 

“Namjoon..” You moaned. His lips came away from your other nipple as the bra tightened when you inhaled deep. He yanked it down to your belly, then his hand cupped the back of your neck.

“Y/n..” He replied. “..Help me with my shirt? We could just do this mostly clothed but I’d rather feel it all without things in the way..” 

Blindly groping, squeezing with both hands at whole sections of material you could feel, then bringing it up to Namjoon’s broad shoulders. He looped your waist and squeezed so tight you could barely breathe, then did the remaining work to haul his shirt off completely. Where it went you weren’t concerned, instead pressing palms to his bare skin, confirming what your eyes caught–pure,firm muscle. Completely hard and super warm.

You wanted this man on you more than any piece of clothing or warm blanket. Namjoon was right: you missed this kind of connection. This sensation of real touch and skin flushed with warmth for you. 

“Thanks.” Namjoon angled a forearm at your tailbone to lift you more. Your knees pinched inwards against his ribs. He didn’t seem to mind, smile still curving his lips. “..You…sure this is okay? I definitely want it—want you...” 

You nodded and brought your hands up to his neck. It was easy to hold on and Namjoon’s brows rose when you squeezed a little. A subtle shift in his hips brought a blunt pressure across your sensitive folds, spreading the wetness. 

“Don’t worry about hurting me..” He whispered. “I’m not afraid of much. …Tell me when..” This man was poised, waiting with you pinned against the wall, holding up all of your weight. And it looked so easy. You were a mess of marvel and need. 

Your toes slid across the small of his back as you adjusted, then nodded firmly, closing your eyes. This was too important to risk getting distracted by any sights that weren’t Namjoon. The breath you took in left you slowly–the same pace as Namjoon’s tip entered you and kept going. Stretching you so nicely it felt like melting. 

When he was entirely seated, Namjoon exhaled in a growl. “God…Do you know how good this feels, Y/n?” You didn’t respond, eyes rolling behind lowered lids as pressure shifted in you, rising and falling with the measured strokes that started.

Namjoon was steady and just firm enough as he thrust in and pulled back. Eventually his pace climbed and your body began to jerk and tremble. The gentle rocking of his forward motion lightly jammed your back against the wall steadily. Hotel walls were probably paper thin and no doubt anyone in the next room would be able to hear the way you moaned and groaned. The way you gasped and pleaded. Mewled with nails dragging his back, making traction across his shifting shoulder blades. 

Namjoon’s hips twisted and snapped a little harder. His face smothered against your neck, he exploded with a howl of enjoyment and the pumping pace increased. There was a power in his  body that he was carefully letting out as his cock cleaved through your tightness. 

Your muscles tightened, rippling as the thickness of his shaft dipped into you deeper. Even faster,jostling you. It felt like bouncing on a massive stallion. You love the way he rammed you, sending shudders through your breasts and thighs. Making your feet dance until the curling of your toes forced them into arches of pleasure. 

“Namjoon..Don’t stop.. You’re gonna make me cum.” 

His fingers were at your hair and he gathered a fistful, pulling gently, speaking into the wet column along the front of your throat. Namjoon was still going, fucking you fast and hard. And as often as you’d been with a man in your life or regardless of how long it had been, you knew this was the best it had felt bar none. 

Your head was going deliciously light as your eyes finally opened, watching the world jumping as you took a handful of punishing thrusts deep inside. When you came it was so much you only realized what happened when Namjoon’s charming smile came into focus, sprinkled in sweat and shining in the nearby lamp light. 

“Y/n? Baby… You okay?” The lowness of his eyelids told you he was sure he hadn’t hurt you. And the way your thighs shivered around his waist. The way your fingers plaintively dragged down his slippery chest–he was more than clear on what happened. The lingering flutters in your walls told you he was still buried, wide and hard. You hadn’t pushed him out, even if the strength of those contractions might have tried to make it happen. 

Everything felt sinfully wet when he slid back to test. Licking your lips, you nodded. “Think I came..” 

“You think?” Namjoon took a long look down, leaning left and right. “The floor and my cock would say you’re right..” 

“God…was it..that intense?” 

“Yeah. And I LOVE it.” You saw the way his face twisted into pained honesty. He meant what he said and the lowering of his brows over those dark, fiery eyes told you he might even want more. That he hadn’t found his end. Your fingernails dug into his bicep on one side and you gripped onto his opposite shoulder, bracing with every ounce of energy you had left in your leg muscles. 

“...Cum for me?” You ventured, softly pleading. This was absolutely the worst, stupidest, most dick drunk idea you’d ever had. And you’d had more than a few horny ideas in your sexually active life. 

Namjoon’s eyes swirled in heat as his mouth turned to an even line. Inside you could feel that big cock twitching. You knew it was from excitement and wondered just how close he was. 

“I can do that… Where do you want it?” 

“Well you don’t mind I made a mess on you… It’s only fair.. You make a mess in me.” 

“Inside?” Namjoon blinked, nostrils flaring when he withered briefly before he straightened again. “Fuck…” 

“I want it. I miss it..” You’d never had it but this was something you needed him to cross off the list. Eventually Namjoon refocused, bringing his gaze back up to stare deep into your eyes again. Eventually the stroking started again but this time he wasn’t slow or sexy. It was a firm, marching pace from the start. Your head rolled sharp to one side and your eyes squeezed shut again as he hit that same spot he’d hit that had thrown you into a massive orgasm. 

If he didn’t stop it was going to happen again. And maybe not before he finished. You tried biting the urge back and eventually burst out a warning as your middle hummed, pressure climbing to a menacing peak. 

“H..hurry..” You rasped out, calf muscles taut, ass cheeks clenching and belly tight. Namjoon threw himself into fucking you, going hard enough there was an audible thump against the wall with his weight slamming over and over.

As quick as it was Namjoon stopped, cramming himself against you with a single, long growl escaping through clenched teeth. The high that rushed over you right after was less intense but still delivered a punch, making your legs weak. As one foot slipped down the back of his thigh, you giggled, desperately trying to get your heavy lids up. You wanted to see his face–the satisfaction that he was experiencing based on the sounds… You NEEDED to get eyes on it. 

Eventually you were able to blink the world into focus and fully appreciate the sparkling shape of Namjoon’s bare upper body, still mostly against you, with his forehead creased in bliss. He found your face and lifted one brow, then leaned in and kissed you lightly. His room might be neat but you felt like the best kind of hot, over sexed mess on the inside. 

“The walls in this place aren’t bad, hmm?” He chuckled as you chased his lips, then gently set your other foot on the floor. You both ignored the serious shaking in your thighs until it went away after a few seconds. 

“Not too bad..” You confirmed. “Think this kind of thing happens a lot in this hotel?” 

Namjoon looked around as he stepped back further, then turned away. Your eyes took complete liberty, opening ogling his ass. It was as tight, round and muscled as you expected. If you weren’t delightfully numb from the orgasms, the sight of his entire back half would do more than enough to get you primed. 

The chill in the air began to creep in again as your skin cooled. The sheen of sweat was already drying and goosebumps started, rising from your thighs. Namjoon was back with another plastic cup and lifted it to your lips. You took a few big sips, humming in thanks. 

Namjoon watched you looking around as he finished the remaining water, then set the cup down. As you leaned down towards the crumpled clothing by the bed he spoke. “What are you doing?” 

“Getting dressed.” 

“I can grab a towel.” He replied, wearing a curious smile. 

“That’s for showers.. I just need to get my stuff..” 

“Y/n..” The low volume and softness of his tone gave you pause. When he took your hand and brought you back up, anything you could say was rapidly out of mind. His smile increased. “We could clean up in the shower and relax for a little bit. I’m not asking you to get dressed and get out.” 

“You don’t need to..” You stammered. Where this ‘must leave’ energy was coming from, you weren’t sure. Everything still felt so relaxed and distant. You didn’t want to do the walk of shame yet. In fact the longer you could stay in this space, the better. 

“If we’re talking about needs versus wants–how about this: I WANT you to join me in the shower. And I want you here–” Namjoon’s glance went to the bed and came back. “---with me for a little longer. Can you do that?” 

“I’d like it..” You said, letting relief change your face and smooth the tension that was settling in. After he studied you, Namjoon nodded. 

“Good. Want to go in and turn the shower on? I’ll join you. I just want to…clean up.” You looked around at what suddenly became clearer: he’d really thrown all the clothes everywhere. Stepping away you undid the bra from your middle and laid it on the bed. 

Namjoon went to work, collecting the other clothing as you turned and headed for the bathroom. It was much bigger, brighter, and more tiled than the bathroom in your hotel room. You appreciate the trade offs, at least. What you lacked in bathroom space, you made up for in breakfast options, pillows and warm, fluffy comforter. 

In the bathroom you studied your naked body, turning around one way, then the other. For a moment you stared over one shoulder, watching your ass in the mirror. Looking for signs that Namjoon had been here–and there were small details. Secret marks. Delightful little parting gifts. 

This time you noticed when Namjoon was staring when you glanced towards the bathroom door and spotted him into the frame with a wistful smirk and eyes all over you. Was that how he’d looked watching you at the bar earlier tonight? 

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Doesn’t matter. I was enjoying the view. Like it even more than I did back in the bar.” 

“Well… you can’t say everyone here wants me.. It’s just us.” 

“Yes I can and it’s true. They want you even more. For as long as possible.” In spite of the steam rolling from behind the clear plastic curtain separating you from the hot water hissing across the way, you could still appreciate the visual feast of naked Namjoon, semi soft, with narrow hips and wide shoulders. With a dimpled smile and dark hair, eating you up with his eyes and about to reach out to get you in his grasp. 

“Were you watching me for this long at the bar?” 

“I told you.. I saw you come in and there was no one else after that. Why would that change? You didn’t get more beautiful because we just had sex, Y/n. Your value hasn’t diminished.” 

“You’re going to make me shy..” Among other feelings. You turned away to catch your breath and steel yourself. That rebuilt resolve flagged the moment that big palm touched your hip and followed the body line up to shoulder. Then to cheek as he quietly said “Turn around, Y/n. Let me see you..” 

You did and Namjoon was as close as he’d been in the other room, right before he’d pinned you to the wall and turned your entire being inside out. This stranger turned lover. This man who’d spent so long seeing so much around the country, but was so into you as if it was the best thing he’d ever experienced. 

You closed your eyes, leaning into his palm and releasing a quiet moan. “Namjoon..” You managed. His thumb slid over your lips, quieting you. 

“Don’t let go until you have to, Y/n. I don’t want to think about where we’re going to go after tonight. Stay right now. It’s what I want. I think we both want it.” 

He was right. You couldn’t think of an excuse that wasn’t some flimsy, pale reason that would fall apart upon reflection. Eventually you found the thoughts and words to respond.

“If I stay…You come back to my room. It’s only fair.” You felt the heat of your giggle against his palm before it slid away and he pulled the bathroom door closed. Dropping two perfectly folded towels onto the counter he glanced at you with a rakish smile. 

“Fair is good with me. You got it. Now get in there..” 

[writing-for-life]

Lupē

Finally, finally I manage a Calliope/Morpheus fic (the Sandman Rarepair Fest had to come along to kick me into gear). It’s just a short vignette, but I hope I did them justice because they will always be the OTP to me. The prompt is Hurt/Comfort.

You can read on Ao3 or here. And no matter where you read, your kudos, comments, shares and reblogs are so appreciated and help writers to get their stuff discovered 🖤

Lupē (616 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Calliope/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Calliope/Dream of the Endless, Calliope & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Reconciliation, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite Summary:

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered. […] And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

Lupē

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow upon the twisted spires of the castle. She had not returned here since that fateful day.

The Gatekeepers stood before her, eyes like onyx reflecting the aeons they had witnessed. Last time, they had been impassive, their voices cold as they denied her entry.

But tonight, something had changed: They recognised her.

"Calliope," the wyvern’s voice echoed through the mist. "You seek the Lord of Dreams."

She nodded, and her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow. "I come to speak to him."

Calliope's fingers trembled. She remembered the bitter words they had exchanged—the accusations, the tears. Later, Oneiros had been unyielding, her attempts to speak to him ignored. She was not even sure what would have happened had he acted differently then; the thought of bringing forth an apology entered her mind and was as quickly dismissed. She felt her hands ball into fists, bitterness resurfacing.

No, this is not the time.

The guardians exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. "Why are you here, muse?" the hippogriff asked.

She hesitated. "Our son's absence binds us, even in sorrow."

There was no more talk, no further interrogation. The gates just creaked open.

Calliope stepped across the threshold, and her footsteps echoed on the stairs and the marble corridors. With every step, her heart picked up pace until it was racing so fast she could hardly catch a breath.

The door was as she remembered—unchanged, the wood dark and polished, etched with symbols whose meaning she understood and yet didn’t.

Just like him.

But that wasn’t true. He had been changed when last they met. Familiar yet different, faint echoes of what once she loved—and hated.

Calliope pushed the door open, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she wondered what she had expected to find. How she had expected him to greet her. And then she knew that this was exactly it:

His back turned on her, no sign of movement, frozen in space.

She crossed the room, her breath catching in her throat, unable to speak.

She didn’t have to.

"Calliope," he whispered, still not turning. There was a rawness to his voice, even in that whisper, that caught her unaware.

She reached for him, without any hesitation, and while it surprised her, it felt right. As her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched subtly, but he didn't pull away.

When he finally turned, his eyes held galaxies, and their shared history was etched on his face—the pain, the longing—it was all there, laid bare.

And it was hard not to see Orpheus in him. Hard not to remember how he had told him stories, his voice like a melody spun from darkness and light, stardust and moonbeams, while the boy’s laughter would echo through the halls of the castle, and his cries for more brought a moment of happiness to everyone who heard it.

And then it was gone.

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered.

She had sung dirges and sought solace in memories, but they only deepened the pain.

And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

In that moment, his eyes searched hers. “You came.” And perhaps, they were seeking answers and forgiveness.

“You called.”

And perhaps, they were also holding the faint glimmer of hope…