#like I haven’t slept or drink in days

[watchyourbuck]

HEAR ME OUT what about a 911 episode where it’s like the French Mistake™️ from supernatural (the characters & the actors end up in the “same dimension” so we have Buck and Eddie and also Oliver and Ryan) and like the characters are super confused bc themselves (?) keep talking about this dude called Buddie ??? and they can’t comprehend who that is although it sounds remotely familiar somehow and then someone (probably Aisha let’s be honest) says something among the lines of ‘it would be dumb to not pair Buck and Eddie off, the way you guys have given them life… they’re clearly in love’ and Buck and Eddie’s brain short-circuits bc w h a t and they have to deal with these very sudden very real feelings they’ve been hiding under the rug for the past five years bc you’re in love with me? idk man are you in love with me??? and the ep ends in a weird macho man hand-shake-kiss-hug thing

[moonilit]

I like to think Bruce have a journal, not as batman just as Bruce Wayne and you can see where he wrote all the headaches he gets from his kids

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

Idea! Make your Whumpee sick, and then make them completely unable to sleep <3

Give them a murdering headache, fever, chills, pain everywhere, and then take away their ability to sleep it all off. They close their eyes, hope so desperately to make time go faster, but when they open their eyes again, barely 10 minutes have passed.

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

winter crash is really hitting hard tonight fuck this god damn season (it has always been my favourite season)

[wonderthor]

your neighbor sukuna who lives in one of the apartments upstairs may be a rough and dangerous man, but he’s funny and nice to you, so you become friends anyway. you even develop a little crush on him, and when he calls you little pet names like sweetheart and doll, you start to think he might like you too. one night you decide to go out for drinks, and as he drinks more he lets out more about his past and you learn he is a little more dangerous than you thought. he talks about how he broke into people’s houses at night all the time to steal their things and when he finally did get caught and locked up, he had probably broke into over 200 people’s houses by then.

“that’s crazy, but you wouldn’t get that lucky with me though”

he sets his beer down, raising his eyebrow at you in question.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that im a very light sleeper, always have been. and there’s no way you couldn’t break into my apartment without me knowing it.”

he picks his beer back up and takes a swig before looking back at you with a smirk.

“you sure about that?”

you confidentially smirk back at him.

“oh absolutely. i get woken up if the wind blows a little too hard against the window. i even woke up that one time i had a mouse in my apartment and i could hear it scurrying across the floor. i would definitely hear you open my door and walk around.”

sukuna taps his fingers against the bar counter with his head in his hands and his eyes still on you, thinking.

“how about we make a bet.”

“a bet? on what?”

“if i can get into your locked apartment and into your bedroom without waking you up, i win. if i do, you win.”

“and what do i get when i win?”

sukuna chuckles at that, almost like a villain’s laugh.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“oh please, you sound way to confident in your impossible chance at winning.”

he laughs at you again.

“i am. there’s a reason i was able to break in so many people’s houses while they were still in there without getting caught. it’s kind of my specialty.”

you take another sip of your drink and lean back.

“your specialty, huh? and you still haven’t mentioned what we get if we win.”

“what do you want?”

his tone caught you off guard for a second, getting deeper and more serious without you expecting it.

“u-um, i don’t know. you can pick.”

he smiles at you again, a devious smile this time as he leans in closer to you.

“if i win, i get to do whatever i want to you. if you win, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

time stops for a minute and you don’t realize that you’re just staring at him until after several seconds.

“what do you m-mean by that?”

he leans back to hold his beer and his playful demeanor is back.

“well according to you, you won’t have to worry about that, right?”

a couple of days went by and you were still on edge. you mentally slept with your eyes open and even kept your bedroom door cracked, just in case you really couldn’t hear him come in. even though you knew it was just a bet and a silly little game, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding against your chest. maybe because you still didn’t really know what he said meant. and there was also the eerie feeling that you were essentially waiting for him to break into your apartment, like a real robber. like the robber he used to be. and even though you knew he wasn’t dangerous to you and wouldn’t hurt you, you were still admittedly a little scared. you truly didn’t know what to expect.

it had been a couple of weeks now and you were sure sukuna was fucking with you. whenever you saw him in passing, he was his normal playful and flirty self, and mentioning nothing of the bet. you were starting to think he was kidding, just making that up to scare you and mess with you. or you also thought he could have just forgotten, since he was drinking a little and couldn’t have forgotten all about it.

but little did you know that you were playing right into his hands. he was waiting on you to lose your edge, to slowly get comfortable enough again to slip into deep and dream-filled sleeps. that’s why you didn’t expect it, why you didn’t expect to lose.

when you woke up one night, you felt your heart fall out of your body and your eyes almost jump from their sockets. there he was, in your apartment, in your bedroom, on your bed, leaning over you on his hands and knees. when he saw that you were awake and too stunned to speak, he smirked and leaned in closer to you until his face was just inches from yours.

“guess i win, sweetheart.”

[cjjohansson]

i don't want to feel anyone but you.

natasha romanoff x reader - something happens on a mission that leaves natasha ignoring you for a month, until she finds out what actually happened. -- reader has a penis. angst. fluff. smut.

18+!!!!! - masterlist ♡

“It’s been weeks Y/n…what the hell happened on that mission?” Bucky nudges you as you stay staring at the ceiling laying down in my bed. It’s weird for you to be in this bed, in this room. It’s so bare compared to what your room is like with Natasha. You haven’t stepped foot in this room in over 2 years. 

“Y/n?” Bucky nudges you yet again, your head turning to face him, his concern written all over his face. 

“You were both undercover, you both said the mission went fine and got what you needed but since then you’ve slept in this room. The cameras on the jet have been wiped from you on the way back. You both refuse to be in the same room as each other. Nevermind the fact no one even sees your face anymore and Natasha is holed up in the gym for the majority of the day…” 

“Buck…please, just, please. Leave this alone.” You need time and space. You haven’t even allowed yourself time to think about what happened. 

“Ok. Ok, I won’t. But you know where I am if you need me.” Bucky stands up to leave and you let him walk away with no care in the world. 

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

It’s 2:52am, well that is what it says on the tiny clock in the corner of the kitchen. You swing the fridge open, hoping someone left you some leftover pizza. 

Just as you're about to grab the box, the door opens slowly. Your head turns to face the other person who is also up at this hour but you're left stock still when your eyes lock with Natashas. 

It’s been 4 weeks since your mission. 3 weeks of not seeing her face at all even though you live in the same building. 

You close the fridge door, suddenly not hungry. You keep your eyes locked on hers. She hasn’t moved either. You're sure you could cut the tension with a knife. 

“Tash-”

“Please don’t.” Natasha breaks eye contact then. Her body folding into itself right in front of your eyes. It hurts you to see her like this. 

“If you just let me-” You try again to just talk but she won’t let you.

“Her hands were all over you Y/n. And you didn't push her away. I was on the other side of the room, trying to do OUR job. While you stood there and let some slut put her hands all over you!” Frustration fills your whole body when she speaks, that isn't what happened. You spent the whole journey back from the mission arguing but she wasn't letting any of it happen. 

“That is not what happened and you know it! People were already staring at me and her. She was the target's sister. I would never cheat on you, ever.”

“YOU LET HER TOUCH YOU!” 

“For god sake Natasha! Do you know how many times i have had to watch you go on fucking honey pot missions and I've stood there silently while random creepy men put their hands all over you! Kiss your fucking neck and grope you?!” You didn't think you could get more frustrated, but somehow you are. 

“That is not fair. And you know it.” Natasha walks towards you finally. Her finger digging into your chest after every word. 

“Friday, pull up my coms and hidden camera from my last mission with Nat.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows at you, then turns her head to the hologram on the kitchen island where your footage is now waiting to be played. 

“Let me buy you a drink.” Leonie, the target's sister whispers into your ear.

“I’m good thanks, my girlfriend will be back in a minute.” You say back to her, moving to the left to get out of her way. Anything to get away from this woman. 

“Well, she isn't here now. Come on, let me buy you a drink and show you a good time.” She whispers to you again, as her arms turn your body towards her and she runs her hands up and down your chest. 

“Hmmm, I’m perfectly ok. Thanks. Now if you could get the fuck off of me and leave me alone that would be appreciated.” You make the point of moving her hands off of your chest, taking another step back. You just wish Nat would hurry up and get what you both needed so this could be over with. 

But Leonie only moves closer towards you, her hands gripping onto you harder. 

“Friday, stop.” The video stops at Natashas words. Her hand swipes the hologram so it fades away. She places both hands on the table and you stay still while you watch her body tense and then ease over and over. 

“I’m sorry. I just, I saw her touching you and I jumped to conclusions. I just-” Natasha turns to you, tears falling from her eyes while she runs her hands through her hair. It’s the first time you’ve seen her in a month. And it’s also the worst you have ever seen her too. 

Dark black bags lay underneath her eyes, she hasn’t been sleeping well. Which you're not shocked about, she can hardly sleep when you're not next to her. Her hair is dirty, her top has old food down the front. She is hardly herself. And seeing her like this, it kills you. She is always so well put together, so seeing her the complete opposite makes everything fly from your head. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. I-I get it. Shhh, come on. I’m here.” You pull her into your arms holding her head to your chest. You knew you’d give in, especially seeing her crying, it has always been a weakness for you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you so much and I just- I should have let you speak but I didn’t. I was so hurt and angry, I’m sorry.” She sobs into your chest, your heart breaking even more. Natasha is never like this, it shocks you so much that part of you doesn’t truly know how to help her.

“I know, I’m sorry too, I’m sorry too baby. Come on, let’s calm down. I love you too.” You pull her head from your chest, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her tears slow down and she finally takes in a whole breath. Her body calmed down. 

Her body slums into your own, one of your hands moving to lift her leg, silently telling her to jump up. Her legs wrap around your waist as you walk you both over to the elevator, pressing onto your shared floor. Natasha’s head stays put in the crook of your neck, while you walk through towards the ensuite. 

You wrap your arm around her waist so she knows to stay put while you lean down and start to run a bath. You know she isn’t going to be able to sleep yet, her body still needs to calm down some more.

You lower her to the floor, a vulnerable whimper coming from Natasha while her feet touch the floor. You make sure to put her favorite bubble bath in before you turn around and help take off her shirt. The rest of her clothes follow soon. But Natashas hand reaching out for your own clothes doesn’t shock you as much as you thought, she needs your touch, she needs your comfort. It only makes sense she wants you in the bath with her. 

You help her in first before you slide in behind her. Her body relaxes into your own before you make her lean forward again so you can help to wash her hair. It’s silent while you help wash each other. Natasha now facing you with her legs either side of your waist, while she rests her forehead on your own with her eyes closed.

You feel Natasha shiver, knowing it’s time to finally get out. You reluctantly pull away, another whimper falling from her lips when you stand up and get out of the tub, making sure to drain it while grabbing both of you a towel. But Natasha only drops her own towel in favor of yours, making her body lean against yours while you wrap you both up in your own towel.

The silence seems comforting as you lead you both into the bedroom, Natasha forgoes her clothes and instead shuffles into the bed, leaving the cover open for you. You already know what she needs and forget about clothes yourself while you follow after her. 

Her chest presses into your own as she positions herself to lay on top of you, the need for skin on skin contact making her body sigh happily. It’s been a month after all. 

She leans up on her elbows, her eyes in line with your own, before she leans down and places a kiss onto your lips, one you’ve been longing for since everything happened. “I’m sorry” She whispers again against your lips, one of her hands moving to your cheek to hold you against her. “I know, I am too.” You reply before leaning up and kissing her again. Her body somehow becomes even heavier on your body while the kiss continues. Your hands caressing her body, clinging to her not wanting to let go. 

Your kiss becomes harder, more meaningful as you both try to show how sorry you both are in your own aways. 

Natasha’s back arches, your hand falling to hip presses her down harder onto you. A moan falling from both of your lips at the action. 

You can feel your body getting warmed up, her body following closely as she continues to grind against you. It’s hard to keep kissing her when moans won't stop flowing out of you. 

Natasha’s hand reaches down behind her own body, falling right onto your slowly hardening appendage. She grabs hold of you, stroking you up and down while you break the kiss to throw your head back, her name falling from your lips while she moves her kisses to your neck. 

Natasha lifts her hips, your hard on slapping against your stomach before she lowers herself to grind along you again. Your hand grips her hair to pull her lips back to your own when you feel how wet she is. 

She doesn’t waste anymore time before she lifts again and maneuvers you to enter her. “F-fuu-ck.” You groan out as you're met with her tight wet walls. The feeling overwhelms you as she lifts her hips slowly down, engulfing you fully until she lifts up again leaving only your tip inside of her. 

Natasha continues to move slowly but with purpose, moans releasing from you both while you somehow still manage to keep the kiss continuing. You swallow her moans beautifully, while your hands finally move to her hips and help her move against you. You need to reach deeper.

Your hands leave Natasha’s hips, one climbing to rest on the back of her neck while the other holds the bottom of her back. She kisses you harder when she feels how possessive your touch is, and it only shocks her when you manage to flip you both over, her head meeting her own pillow while you now take over with the movement of your own hips. Her legs move to wrap tightly against you, holding you close as she finally feels you reach the deepest parts of her. 

“I-I-I love you.” Natasha moans against your lips, your breathing picking up as you fight against the need to thrust into her harder, this isn’t just sex, it is so much more to both of you. “I love you too baby.” You manage to get out while you continue your steady pace, pushing all the way in and pulling all the way out over and over again. 

It’s almost impossible to carry on kissing one another, your head falling into her neck, as you breathe her in deeply, her smell overwhelming you while she moans freely into the room.

Natasha grips you tighter, her nails holding onto your back, you can feel how close she is, her walls continuing to clench and unclench around you, making you have to push into her even harder. 

You're both so close. 

“I love you so much Y/n, fuckkkk, please, I’m sorry.” 

“I know, I love you too, you're being so good. I’m sorry too.” You breathe into her mouth. Your hand pulling out from between her and the bed to press onto her clit to help her finally reach the end goal. 

“Wanna cum with you, please y/n.” Natasha’s words encourage you to press, her walls now impossibly tight you can barely move. But you're right on the edge, the same as her. 

“Cum baby, cum with me.” You mutter onto her lips as both let go. Natasha’s hands scratching down your back as her orgasm sends her to cloud nine, your own orgasm causing your body to still while you release inside of her. 

It takes a moment for you to both calm down, heavy breaths now replace heavy moans while you rest your weight on top of her, your forehead meeting her own, causing your breaths to mix together. You go to move out of her but you're met with her hands holding you close once again. She needs this touch, this connection you both do. So you stay nestled inside of her, deciding to pull her body into your own before rolling over and allowing her weight to now cover you instead. Breathy, tired moans falling from both of your lips while you adjust to another new position, both still so sensitive from how hard your orgasms were.

Natasha rests her chin on your chest while she looks at her. Her eyes hazy and full of love, her hand falling onto your cheek while she strokes your cheek. You move your head to press a kiss onto her palm. 

“Let’s forget everything that has happened in the last month. From now on, if something happens, no matter how upset, hurt or angry we are, we always let the other person speak too. No more pushing each other away.” You mumble to Nat, her eyes never leaving your own. 

“Okay, I promise. I love you” Natasha voices back. 

“I promise too. I love you, and I don't want to feel anyone but you.”

[batchilla]

False Accusations (You know I KNOW right? Chapter Two)

Let me first say thank you for all the kind reception part one received. It was … a surprise, and a welcome one.

Also, a massive thank you to @sunnie-angel for beta reading. If you haven’t read their work… Do yourself a favor and check out their masterlist!

This Chapter takes place over a few days in two mini stories., and I would appreciate being told if at any point this causes confusion. Currently how I’ve done it is as tilted segments. Content warning: this chapter has themes of sexual harassment in the workplace up to the point of groping (from an OC), and corruption. Proceed with caution. Be safe.

The morning after. You are going to murder your partner, Grayson. Perhaps with a gun. Maybe your own two hands. Or maybe you just need coffee.

It's probably the coffee thing. Coffee, then you’ll decide if you're going to kill him and how. As you sit at your table, surrounded by notes you’d made at 4am, the urge to throttle Grayson slowly subsides. You hadn’t slept a wink. You’d had a weird night. But if you were going to do this, help him find this killer… you’d need a plan for if it all goes to hell. A diversion. A plan so that if you’re made, maybe the killer will think you’re on the wrong track. A dummy investigation. But simultaneously one that you won’t overthink, so that you can devote your time and brainpower to the truth. Luckily for you, you have the perfect person to pretend to accuse. After all, your partner, Grayson, is an incredibly weird guy. 8:55 am finds you walking into the station sipping your third coffee of the morning, only to find Grayson sat at his desk. Shirt pressed, tie perfect, hair shampoo commercial glamourous yet slightly messy. The urge to murder your partner returns, just a little. How dare he be so… normal? So unaffected? How dare this man fight crime by night, and be smiling at you as he is now, chipper and bright and perfect, before 9am? The nerve. Maybe you could hit him with a patrol car and claim it was an accident. “Morning detective… Long night?”

Oh.. This fucker. Your partner, Grayson, is the most annoying man alive. You hate how badly you have to fight the urge to grin at the sheer audacity.

She looks exhausted, the poor thing. Dick remembered the feeling, but at some point he’d adapted to running on less sleep than was by any means reasonable. He hoped she wouldn’t need to. That this would be over in a few weeks and she’d be back to getting a full eight hours. “Morning Detective… Long night?” She glares at him like he’s caused personal offence. He raises an eyebrow at her to prompt a response. Inside though, he panics. Had he done something wrong? Could she suspect? No. no of course not. But whatever she said next would surely be important. It was a test of sorts. What would she say she’d spent the night doing? Would she betray his alter ego? Could she sell the lie if she didn’t? “Just had a night in, had a little too much to drink,” she shrugs, opening her bag and removing a notebook. Casual, calm, partially true and nearly impossible to disprove short of a blood test or breathalyser, and even then there was deniability. Dick nods, and looks back down to his computer to hide the grin that splits his face in half. He knows he can’t dwell on it, knows he can’t act on it, but it’s completely unfair that she was that smooth. That helpful. She’d agreed to help him - as Nightwing - instantly. Her words about how Blud owed him a debt had played in his mind on loop for the rest of his patrol. He knew what it felt like to fly. To flip through the air at dizzying heights, gravity a mere afterthought. It was cruel, frankly, that he’d found someone who made him feel even better than that, only for her to be someone he couldn’t be with out of principle and professionalism. It wasn’t that he objected to her as a partner - short of his family, she was possibly the best he’d ever met. Frankly, if she was transferred to Gotham, the bat signal would be turned on far less frequently. And he didn’t object to rules about dating fellow officers, especially one’s partner. Objectively it made sense. But it didn’t change the fact that her smile was the best part of his day. That on the rare times she laughed he could swear he heard an angel just straight up quit its position in the heavenly chorus out of pure envy. That when she’d said she’d help he’d wanted nothing more than to grab her face and kiss her till she was breathless. But he can’t. Or at least Dick Grayson can’t. A new voice breaks him from his spiralling thoughts. “Detective Grayson.” The man standing behind his partner's desk has a hand on the back of her seat, preventing her from swivelling around. 

“We haven’t met yet, I’m Sergeant James McElroy. Seems you spent most of my first day back stuck on a stakeout.” “Pleasure.” he responds, with all the charm he’s learnt to use at galas and parties, forcing down the venom incurred by the way his partner had seemed to lose a gallon of blood at the sound of his voice, and the way she had seemed not to breath since the name was spoken.

He's not touching you. Of course not. He knows better than to do anything so blatant. It's how he’d gotten away with it for so long last time. He doesn’t touch you, or say the things he was so clearly thinking. He would masterfully walk the line between making you feel unsafe, alone, and naked, while never crossing over into anything actionable. Till one day he had. It had been in a crowded lift where he’d used the crush as an excuse to grab and to feel, whispering something vile in your ear. 

He’d figured he’d gotten away with it when you tried to tell your captain and he’d asked if you had a witness. You’d thought he’d gotten away with it too. Till a uniformed officer, Janet Rodwell, had stepped up to have your back. You should have known, really. For the second time in 24 hours you feel like a fool. But while the first time it had been accompanied with a dizzying realisation of love, this time the realisation is dark and chilling to your core. You’d thought you’d won, that it was over. But he’s back and he’s not touching you, but you feel the ghost of his hands all over. You can’t win. He’d been sent away and you thought you were safe again, but he’s back and he’s a sergeant now. Because Bludhaven, as it is, rewards men like him. You can’t bring yourself to look over your shoulder at him, so you look straight ahead, across your desk and to your partner’s adjoining one.

It's not Dick Grayson’s eyes you meet though. They aren’t cheerful, carefree and beautiful. Well, they are beautiful. But they are angry, intelligent, and fierce. You meet Nightwings gaze, and you feel the claws around your lungs relax, even if they do not recede. 

His partner did not rattle easily. Did not panic unnecessarily. 

Pinned down by the Penguin’s smugglers, he’d thought their goose had been cooked unless he could work at his true capacity, so he had shot out the lights and gotten to work. He’d taken out nine, but been unable to find the tenth, until he’d heard the struggle. 

She’d taken him down blind, without drawing her gun. When he’d asked her why she hadn’t, she’d told him she’d lost sight of him in the chaos, and was unwilling to risk it. He wished he hadn’t shot the light out so he could have seen it. 

Still, he had been oblivious. It had hit him like a batarang to the face last night, in that moment where she agreed without hesitation to help him find a serial killer. He’d known she was beautiful, and brilliant. That he had a crush. 

He’d realised last night he was in far, far deeper trouble than that. So, if she was frightened and upset by the presence of this man, then Dick would take his looming over her as a serious threat. He trusted her gut. “You haven’t introduced yourself to my partner, Detective—-” He’s cut off with a dismissive wave that boils his blood. “Oh we’ve met. In fact, she was my partner first. Until the misunderstanding.” There are many ways to snap someone out of a panic. He’s seen sheer rage do it many times. As it does now. “There was no misunderstanding,” she says, her voice firm, her teeth gritted. “Well. I want you to know-” he moves from directly behind her, to her side, leaning down over her, invading her space. Dick wanted to hit him. “I understand that what I did could have been seen as invasive, and you may have felt that I overstepped. I have completed a course, as demanded by HR, and will attempt not to cause you to feel that I have been inappropriate again.”

She takes a deep breath. He can practically hear her count in his head. He stands, moving around the desk to stand beside her, not quite a barrier but a comforting presence, or at least he hoped. “Well. Whatever occurred, we have work to be getting on with, if you don’t mind.” It takes a great deal of the restraint his training has given not to add the words ‘you bastard’, or something far more creative. “But of course. Detective. Detective.”  

Your hands shake as you sit back down in your seat. Your partner, Grayson, returns to his own, his gaze - Richard’s gaze, never leaving your face, crumpled in concern. “I don’t want to overstep… but are you alright? What … did he do?” “I…” you want to tell him, in part. Or maybe you don’t, and you want him to know without having to go through the ordeal of rehashing it all. Maybe by consulting whatever ‘oracle’ he used as nightwing. But you can’t right now. So you don’t. “I… need some air.” Your partner just gives you a comforting smile, a nod, and lets you leave without question. Wingding in the window 

It's five days later, on his patrol, when he notices it. The wingding left in her window. He stops on the roof of the building adjacent to her. As far as city roofs go, this one’s relatively nice. Someone’s placed some potted plants around, in an eclectic attempt at a rooftop garden. Some of these pots contain small pebbles as cover for the soil from the wind. Grinning to himself, he takes a handful. 

Was this a good idea? No. 

Was it deceptive? Well, no more than anything else he did as Nightwing… well, maybe a little more. 

But it hurt, holding her at arm's length, when a part of his soul he tried to ignore yearned to be as close as she would allow. He knows it’s not good. He knows it’s a violation of the utter trust she seems to hold in Nightwing. Really, it would only make things even more messy for his chances as Dick. But he wants to make her smile. Blush, even. He knows she finds him attractive, and in both contexts, but he wants more than that. Over the last week he’s realised just how much he wants to have with her, and it terrifies him. 

If it was simple lust he could deal with it.  But it wasn’t, and so here he was, about to attempt the cheesiest move known to hallmark films, just to see if it would make her laugh at him again. 

He’d managed to be professional while surrounded by highly capable, badass women in skintight clothes for most of his life. He’d had crushes before and gotten over them. He wanted everything with her. And that was not something he knew how to handle, given the mess of their situation. Dick shakes his head, snapping himself out of his doom spiral. He had a detective to meet, and a serial killer to find.

Bap. Bap. Bap. You look up from your book. You’d been getting ready for sleep, wearing your cosy pyjamas, curled up in bed with a book and a hot chocolate. You go still, listening. Bap. Bap. A pause. Then, the rap of knuckles on glass. “I ran out of rocks”

You know that voice. “With you in a moment.” You pull on a dressing gown, and take a moment to curse the fact that your slippers are rabbits before pulling the curtains aside. Nightwing is crouched on your windowsill. You lift it, stepping back as he enters through the window with all the grace of a cat. You know that you shouldn’t be embarrassed to be in your pyjamas, it's late, you had no means of knowing when he’d arrive. But he looked divine in that suit. An adonis. And you're in your old bathrobe and bunny slippers. Truely, you must have done terrible things in a past life. “Nice footwear.” Nightwing says with a smirk. Curse him. Curse his cheekbones and the way his lips look so damn inviting. “You picked up what, five rocks?” you sass right back. Nightwing makes a noise you suspect was supposed to be a scoff, but is more of a squeak. “Do you see a lot of pocket space on this?” 

“Fair.” you say, leading him out of your bedroom and into your living room. He sits on your couch, one leg spread wide, the other’s ankle resting on its thigh, as you open a drawer on your coffee table and produce your masterpiece. Nearly five metres of red string. Names, photos, dates, all studded with pins so pressed so tightly in they haven’t a prayer of accidental removal. You prop it up on the coffee table. 

Maybe your friends were right. Maybe you did need to touch grass. A line of thought for later. You look at Nightwing, who’s no longer relaxed and laying back on your sofa like he owned the place. 

Its years of maintaining a poker face in interrogations and more recently, dealing with his shenanigans that prevents you from grinning. 

He's as pale as you’ve ever managed to see him, and leaning forward now, elbow on knee and chin in hand. “Well, this is… impressive.” He sounded like he’d inhaled helium. “Shall we start with Sergeant McElroy?” you offer, smiling your best ‘there’s nothing wrong’ smile, enjoying making him squirm. “You seem to have … a significant amount of evidence against Detective Richard Grerson?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you take a ruler, poking your picture of him between the eyes. You hadn’t planned to do him first, you’d hoped to discuss evidence that would actually lead somewhere. 

This was still going to be fun though. You take a deep breath, and pause for a suitable level of dramatic effect, and begin your game. 

“Detective Richard Grayson. He’s my partner. He’s an excellent detective, and a good man. You might have heard of the charity he founded.” Nightwing makes a noncommittal humming noise. “But is it all too good to be true?” you ask, moving to your first notecard. “Exhibit one. He asked about the file. On its own, innocuous. But then, exhibits two through four. He’s prone to frequent disappearances on cases. He often knows a little too much about the criminal underside of Blud. Things that I have triple checked are not in any police database.”

You run a hand through your hair. “He’s a highly trained combatant. I once saw him take down nine men armed with guns, in the dark. They don’t teach that at the police academy.” “No? No.” Nightwing says, clearing his throat. “I mean yes. That is… suspicious.” “Incredibly. Which brings me to exhibit five. Now I’m no behavioural analyst or shrink. But I know my basics. Childhood trauma and instability can have… lingering impacts. I… don’t feel the need to dredge up his past, but I did look into it… and it’s grim. He was then taken in by Bruce Wayne. His relationship to his father, whatever it is, is something he’s even tighter lipped about then… everything else honestly. It’s not on the board because it’s circumstantial at best… but he has this skill of being able to hold long conversations and yet you come away not having learnt anything deeper about him.” 

He was pretty sure he’d been nodding for a good thirty seconds at this point.  

It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much. 

The worst part was that it was all well reasoned. Practical. He had done everything she accused him of. She had just drawn a far more down to earth conclusion, that he was a corrupt cop, rather than Nightwing. 

It made sense. Too much sense. How could he shut this down without seeming invested in his own innocence? 

That isn’t what causes his lungs to burn though. No. The root of that was that even if he’d forced himself to maintain a professional - if friendly - distance from her, he would have hoped that she trusted him. 

But in this moment, looking at the evidence, looking at her holding that ruler to his photo’s face like a judge's gavel ready to condemn… he knows. He knows that she will never look at Dick the way she does as Nightwing, happy to see him, believing in his mission, ready to help as soon as he’d asked. Even if he clears himself of this crime, she would surely suspect him of others. 

He’d known it, at least on one level, ever since he’d first met her. He knows it now all the deeper, and he wants to scream. Dick Grayson will never get to tell her how truly wonderful she is.

How highly he regards her. 

How she is one of the reasons he keeps fighting for Bludhaven. 

Dick Grayson will never get to tell her that he loves her. 

But… perhaps Nightwing could have something. Because if she was his north star, then the way he’d felt when she agreed to help him had been like being engulfed by a supernova. 

If she was water, then seeing her cosy and ready for bed and smiling as she let him in through the window had been an oasis in the Sahara. 

If music was the food of love, her attempts not to laugh and stifled giggles over his peeps popcorn had been a symphony orchestra. 

But he’d never have her as himself. Not at all. Nightwing though? She at least found him attractive. Aligned with his ideology. No, he’d never feel that warmth of 10,000 stars directed at the real him. 

No, he’d never be able to be quenched by her life saving presence. 

No, he’d never feel her laughter shaking his bones as if in a musical crescendo.

But even the dimmest and most distant star gave off some light.

Even the last drop in an empty water skin was better than nothing.

Even the memory of a melody could be sweet. True, he would only ever have scraps of her affection. True, he could flirt, and perhaps go even further… but he’d never truly be with her. 

But who was a starving man to deny scraps of sustenance? He’d take what he could have and try to ignore the lingering hunger. 

“Perhaps we should discuss… another suspect?” he prompts, realising how long he’s been silent. How long she had been too, watching him with a strange, concerned look.

She nods, and moves on to their Captain.

Dick is almost relieved when some ten minutes later Oracle calls in a robbery downtown. “Well - sorry Sherlock.” He takes a picture of her board for further study. “I’ll be around next week to continue this discussion, and look over this in my own time till then. Duty calls.” “Be safe,” She says softly, as he’s halfway through the window He looks over his shoulder. “As you wish.”

Taglist: @jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

@love-theangel-blog

@torchbearerkyle

@interwebseriesfan24

@love-theangel-blog

@alwaysnervouswitchprince

@underlinekasis

@tiredsleepyandreading

@soradragon Banner credit is to @strangergraphics

If you would request to be added to my taglist, please reblog the fic. Honestly please just reblog it anyway? I worked hard on this. Nothing more demotivating than a fic getting only likes. If you want part three, reblog part two. 

[merrybloomwrites]

When You're Lost, Just Look For Me

Summary: You’re not always good at asking for what you need. Luckily your bandmates know when you need a little extra love and are there to support you.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: mentions of: neglectful family, periods, little bit of online hate

This story is set in the 1D days, and therefore Liam is a main character just like the other boys. Wanted to give a heads up in case anyone wants to avoid stories with him in it.

AN: When the news broke last week I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue writing, and really didn’t know what I would write about if I did. But then Passing Contact doubled in notes so I took that as a hint that it’s what people might want to read right now. So I decided to write a part 2 in hopes that it can help people in any way.

I have a couple other ideas for stories of reader x one direction that would also take place back when they were touring, but if you have any requests please let me know

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It’s a day off in a random hotel room in a random city in the United States. Of that you’re sure. But you're not sure of much else at the moment. 

You’re thinking back to the past few days. You’d messed up your backing vocals on stage, and had to re-record your parts for the next album because you just could not get it right. Numerous rumors were being spread about you being spotted with random boys, leading to renewed comments calling you all kinds of nasty things. 

You’re still in your pajamas, which you realize somehow consist of a pair of Louis’ sweatpants, one of Zayn's t-shirts, and a sweatshirt Liam had given you a week ago that you have yet to return. You think about texting one of them to come hang out, but you don’t want your glum mood to bring them down. Instead you turn on the TV and wrap yourself in all your blankets. 

It’s what you always did as a child when you were sad. Your family was never open with their emotions, and affection made them uncomfortable. From a young age you knew that going to your parents for comfort would end with rejection. So you’d learned how to comfort yourself. 

The blanket nest barely does its job today, and you’re still lost in your thoughts of self doubt when a knock at the door startles you. 

For a second you think about ignoring it, but odds are the person knocking wouldn’t just go away. So you pull yourself up and open the door, seeing Niall there waiting for you. 

“Hey, haven’t heard from you today, wanted to see what you’re up to,” he says. 

You’re hit with a wave of embarrassment, not wanting to admit that you've been wallowing all day. 

“Just taking it easy,” you reply, “Catching up on sleep.” It’s believable enough, none of you sleep too well on the bus and this is your first hotel bed in over a week. 

“I hear ya, think I slept twelve hours straight,” Niall says with a laugh. 

Knowing that he’s hoping for an invitation you step aside and motion your arm, silently asking him to join you in your room. You glance around quickly, glad to see everything is neat except the bed. You hope that he doesn’t judge the mess of blankets, and considering he just kicks off his shoes and climbs into your bed, you assume he’s fine with it. 

“What are we watching?” Is his next question so you sit on the other side of the bed and pass him the remote, allowing him to scroll through the channels until he finds some nature show that looks mildly interesting. 

You stare at the screen but you’re not focusing on it. You’re more focused on Niall just a couple feet away from you. 

During a celebration after the first tour, where you’d all indulged a bit with some drinks, you’d let slip about your family and your reluctance when it comes to physical affection. They listened and then made it a goal to help you be more comfortable with hugs, and hand holding, and all kinds of friendly contact. 

And it was nice. You’d always known that babies could be touch deprived, but you’d learned that adults can be starved for human touch as well. There was no doubt that you fell into this category, so getting random bouts of touch and affection from your band members had been healing in a way.

But lately things have been so crazy that everyone has been focusing on themselves. Plus you’re older now, not the teens that you were when you started the band. As people in your early twenties, the casual physical affection has dwindled. 

The boys seem to be coping with this, as though they haven’t even realized that the group hugs and cuddle piles have stopped. But you’ve noticed. And you’ll be the first to admit that you miss it. 

Now especially, with all this stress and disappointment weighing you down, you can’t help but desire a hug, one so tight that you can just burrow into one of the boys for a little while and feel safe and loved. 

But even though Niall is right there, you can’t bring yourself to ask. You can’t even move closer and get rid of the space between you. Because it was always the boys initiating the contact. You’re nervous to try, terrified that you might get rejected. 

Niall can tell something is going on with you, but he’s not sure what. He’s never been the best at navigating other people’s emotions so he calls in backup by sending a text to Harry who arrives a little bit later. He brings lunch with him, and you’re grateful for that since you’ve barely eaten all day. 

The three of you sit together at the table to eat. The food is good, and you’re grateful that Niall and Harry are talking to each other because you don’t have much to add right now. You don’t realize the way they’re watching you, communicating their worry through pointed looks. 

When lunch is done you all head back to the bed and put on a movie. You’re sitting against the headboard, Niall on your left and Harry on your right. And somehow, they’re still not touching you. At this point you’d take a brush of their arm against yours. Anything to help you feel less alone. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to lean closer to either of them. It’s maddening. 

“Y/N,” Harry says, catching your attention.

“Yea?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, not even sure why you’re lying to him.

“We know something is bothering you,” Niall adds. 

You take a breath before spilling everything that’s been going on. They listen and reassure you and while you do feel better after talking with them, there’s still that part of you that’s so on edge.

“What do you need?” Harry asks.

You think about it for a moment and say, “What I need is for people to stop judging me.”

“That’s a fair point. But I want to know what you need right now. From us.” Harry says.

The thing is, he knows the answer. He’s already aware of what would make you feel better. But he wants you to say it. He wants you to be comfortable to voice your needs with him and the other boys. 

Finally you blurt out, “I just need a hug.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says.

Now you’re confused. It’s what you want. You tapped into all your bravery to even say that. And now he’s telling you that’s not right?

“You want something more than that. Need something more than that,” he adds. 

You think about it for a moment and you realize that he’s right. A little hug isn’t going to cut it.

“I need someone to hold me,” you say quietly. “I need to be held.”

Neither boy hesitates now, and you end up tucking into Harry's side with Niall wrapping around you. They hold you tight, hands gently rubbing your back or arms to soothe you. 

It’s not often that you allow yourself to cry, but you do now. You heave out a sob and feel their arms tighten around you. They stay like that until your sobs turn into tears before finally drying up. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly once you’ve calmed down fully. 

“Of course, YN,” Niall says. “We’re always here for you. Whatever you need.”

“We’re in this together,” Harry adds. “And we take care of each other. Always.”

Their kindness, and comfort has you feeling so much better, but you remain in their hold just a bit longer. It feels so nice to have this type of physical contact after so long without it. 

The three of you eventually get cleaned up and join the rest of the boys for dinner. You end the day feeling so much better than you did at the start, and you know it’s thanks to these boys you call family. 

But despite how nice it felt to be held, thoughts of doubt and embarrassment fill your mind in the weeks that follow. When you look back at that afternoon you first think about how good it felt. And then you begin to feel weak that you even needed to be babied in the first place. 

You vow to be stronger in the future and not ask for that again. They have their own things, they don’t need to be taking care of you too. At least, that’s what your parents had always said. 

Tour continues, and one night you all have to stay at the venue for a while after the show. Security said something about it being unsafe to travel just yet, but you were too tired to listen to the details. 

After more than an hour of hanging out backstage you finally get the all clear to head out. But in that time you’d practically fallen asleep on the sofa. You have zero desire to get up so you sleepily raise your arms and look at Liam who’s standing before you and say, “Carry me.”

He chuckles, and a sweet smile appears on his face. Without even saying a word he leans down and slides an arm behind your back, the other under your knees to scoop you up bridal style. You sling one arm around his neck and hold on as he adjusts his grip to make sure you are secure. 

Once back on the bus he tucks you in, straightening your extra blanket and placing your stuffed cat in your arms. He runs a gentle hand through your hair until you fall asleep, once again feeling so safe and loved. 

A couple weeks later your period hits, and for some reason this month is especially bad. It’s day two of non stop cramps, and as much as you try to keep this a secret from the boys, they always know when you’re feeling particularly bad. 

Louis is the one to find you curled up on the couch. He brings chocolate, pain relievers, and some tea that’s supposed to help. You’d never heard of it before, but apparently his sisters swear by it. 

When nothing helps right away he lays down with you. His hand goes to your stomach and begins to rub, somehow soothing more than just the pain. Once your cramps finally go away you turn so that you're facing Louis. You tuck your head under his chin and he puts his arm around your waist to keep you close. 

It should be strange, being so close to him. But it just feels right, just like it does with the other boys. You let yourself enjoy the comfort as Louis’ hand rubs gentle circles on your back. 

Not only are your cramps gone, but the feelings of sadness and anxiety that usually come with your period are gone too, all thanks to Louis’ compassion and gentleness. 

A few days later you're sleeping in your bunk when a nightmare hits. It’s one that you used to get all the time, but now only comes when you’re extra exhausted or stressed. And with it being the last couple weeks of tour, you’re both of those things. 

You wake up gasping, adrenaline coursing through your body. You hoped that you were quiet and didn’t wake anyone else, but a moment later Zayn appears and asks if you’re alright. 

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Just a dream. I’m good now.”

But of course these boys can read you like a book. And Zayn immediately knows you’re not fine. 

“Scooch over,” he says, and you listen. As soon as there’s room he climbs in the bunk with you. He lays on his back and pulls you so your head is resting on his chest. 

You get comfy but you can’t help but feel bad. These bunks are small, uncomfortable for just one person. Definitely cramped with two.  

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine,” you say. 

“Nonsense. No one should be alone when they don’t have to,” he replies. 

You can't argue with that. The two of you hold each other close and fall into a peaceful sleep. He’s still there when you wake up in the morning and you snuggle closer, taking advantage of his comforting touch. 

When tour ends you’re a weird mixture of relieved and sad. It had been exhausting, but so wonderful. 

And you have to admit to yourself that you’re going to miss the boys. It’s only a couple of weeks apart before you come back together, but you’ll be back home with your family during that time. 

And you’re realizing that they’re not really family to you. 

Zayn, Niall, Louis, Liam, and Harry are your family. They care for you in ways your own parents never did. And you’re going to miss that while you’re all back home. 

The boys know how you feel about going to stay with your family. That’s why they plan a night in rather than going out to party. You have some drinks and pizza, and spend the evening reminiscing about the past months you had together. 

The later it gets, the more glum you feel. You know the goodbyes are coming soon, and that puts a damper on your mood. 

Liam’s the first to notice how quiet you’ve gotten. He sits next to you on the couch and gently nudges you with his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

You don’t want to bring down the party, but you can’t ignore his pleading eyes so you reply, “I’m just going to miss you guys.”

He nods but continues to look at you, knowing there’s more to it. Sighing you add, “And you guys are so happy and so warm. At home everyone’s cold and distant.”

“What can we do to help?” He asks. A memory pops into your head. Another hotel room when you were feeling down. You know exactly what you need. And you’re no longer scared or embarrassed to ask for it. 

“I need to be held,” you say. 

“I think we can do that,” Liam says before once again picking you up and announcing, “Cuddle party on the bed!”

He gently tosses you onto the plush king bed and in no time you’re surrounded by your boys. That’s how the six of you sleep that night, all snuggled together in one big pile. 

You’ve never before felt so safe, so loved. And you’ll forever be grateful for the opportunity you received that brought you close to these boys. Because they are the ones who taught you what love truly feels like.

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

AN: While I was working on this a butterfly landed next to me and stuck around for a while. Brought me a bit of peace.

To my readers, I hope you’re all doing okay, and if you need someone to talk to know that I’m here and willing to talk!

[helaintoloki]

Keep Your Enemies Closer

pairing: sparrow!ben x reader

warnings: language, angst, suggestive content, minor spoilers

notes: the new season has brought me back from the dead so pls send in any tua requests you have <3 also this technically could be read as a sequel to relenting

summary: attending Grace’s birthday party forces you to confront the man you’ve been trying your hardest to avoid

The scent of pizza and spilled soda invades your senses as you help continue to set up birthday decorations in Lila’s absence. You have no idea where she’s run off to now, but you hope that taking over the rest of the work load will ease some of the stress from the tired mother’s shoulders.

The party center is loud, shrill shrieks of kids and music blasting from the arcade games splitting your ears and giving you a headache, and you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else but in some children’s play place. But, you are Grace’s favorite aunt, and you firmly believed in always showing up for family, so here you are.

Just as you finish setting the last place mat on the kid’s table an overly excited voice calls your name from the back of the room. A smile creeps upon your lips at the familiarity, but it immediately drops when you see that it’s not just Luther heading your way but also the man you loathe with your entire being.

“Hey, you made it!” Luther cheers animatedly before pulling your tense body into a tight bear hug. “It’s so nice to see you, y/n.”

“It’s nice to see you too, big guy,” you agree with a dry laugh and awkward pat to his back. You can feel the daggers being burned into your skull, so you have no choice but to acknowledge Luther’s companion for the day. “But you do know you’re supposed to leave the trash outside, right?”

“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” Ben scoffs with an indignant roll of his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital ‘saving lives?’”

“Shouldn’t you still be in jail?” You fire back with ire, and if not for Luther keeping you both apart you’d probably be fist fighting in the middle of the ball pit right now.

“Uh, Ben got out early on probation for good behavior,” Luther explains with a nervous chuckle while attempting to keep the peace as best as he can without losing an eye in the process. “And now he’s here to spend time with us as a family.”

“Yeah, let’s see how long that lasts.”

“Hey, I technically am family,” the Sparrow boasts with a taunting smirk, formulating just the right insults to get under your skin. “You were a late addition added to the Umbrellas to pick up the slack Viktor left behind after Dad suppressed their powers. You’re not even a Hargreeves. Isn’t that right, Luther.”

“W-Well, I wouldn’t say that,” the man is quick to defend only for you to speak over him.

“Fuck. You,” you snarl through gritted teeth, palms clenched tightly at your sides as you adamantly work to not let him get the best of you. “Ben was family, and you’re not him. You’re just the shitty replacement we’re stuck with.”

“And yet when you thought the world was ending you still slept with me.”

The smug smile on Ben’s face is immediately wiped off by the impact of your open palm colliding with his cheek, and the sheer force of your hit as him tumbling back into Luther. Your assault earns a few bewildered gasps from a nearby table of parents, but you couldn’t care less about what a group of wine moms thought of you in that moment. Your chest is tight with rage, but you will yourself to walk away before the situation can escalate further and ruin the party.

“What did I miss?” A curious Five notes after arriving to the scene, but he soon finds himself forced to match your brisk pace as you grab him by the arm and drag him with you to the bar.

“I need a drink.”

~~~

You do your best to avoid him for the rest of the night, but eventually Ben is able to corner you by the gift table where you sit nursing a spiked lemonade.

“Drinking at a kid’s party, huh?”

“Did you come here to get slapped again?” You retort with a wry chuckle before taking a quick swig of your drink.

“Actually,” he starts, hesitating as he struggles to get out the words, “I came to… apologize.”

“You? Apologize? What, is the world ending again?” You scoff in disbelief before finally settling your gaze on the shaggy haired man before you. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you think prison might have made him hotter, and the fact irks you to no end.

Obviously annoyed by your defensiveness, Ben shakes his head and says, “I don’t even know why I bother. I only came here for Luther’s sake because he wouldn’t shut up about making ‘positive changes’ now that I’m out of jail.”

“‘Don’t even know why I bother?!’” You repeat in indignant disbelief. “I gave you so many chances to prove that you weren’t a complete asshole and every time you screwed me over! You are not the victim in the situation.”

“Oh, spare me the sob story,” Ben remarks dismissively with a roll of his eyes. “I lost someone too, you’re not the only one that has to deal with the fact that you’re stuck with a completely different version of your dead partner. At least I’m trying to make the most of what the universe has given me.”

“By getting yourself thrown in jail over some stupid crypto scheme?”

“Jesus, by trying to make something with you!” Ben cries out in frustration. “You won’t even try to just play along!”

“I already told you, I’m not your y/n. She’s dead,” you remind him harshly. “Sleeping with you was just a moment of weakness and a mistake that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Really? Because if I remember correctly you seemed to really be enjoying yourself,” he taunts with a suggestive smirk that has your face immediately growing hot.

“God, you’re so insufferable! I could just-“

“Kiss me?”

“-choke you!”

A heavy silence falls between you both as you stare at each other in bewildered shock. It takes you a moment to recover from Ben’s words as you swallow harshly and ask, “What did you say?”

“What did… you say?” He retorts in an attempt to remain as inconspicuous as possible. The tension between you now is so thick you could cut it with the knife sitting by the birthday cake, but instead you just sit and stare at each other.

“Does your car have tinted windows?” Ben asks suddenly, prompting you to raise a brow.

“Yeah, why?” You reply with an inquisitive raise of your brow, but when Ben gives you a pointed look you’re then quick to catch on. “If we go now we’ll be back in time for cake.”

“Let’s go,” he says, eagerly rising from his seat so fast it almost knocks over the presents. Anxiously taking your hand in his, you both scan the room to make sure no one’s eyes are on you before bolting towards the exit.

You know you’re going to regret this, but in the moment you couldn’t care less what consequences would come from your romp in the backseat of your car with Ben.

Because as much as you hate to admit it, you’ve really missed him.

[p0orbaby]

Parental Guidance

summary: you’re on the brink of a baby induced nervous breakdown and you need your wife to pull her finger out a little

warnings: just some postnatal tension, but it all works out

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.2k

-

You’re pretty sure you haven’t slept in three days. Or is it four? The baby’s a demon. This tiny, adorable, 8-pound entity that seems to thrive on your misery. His cries have melded into a never-ending soundtrack of despair, punctuated by your own hollow attempts at soothing him with a song that you made up on the spot about 48 hours ago and now can’t stop singing. It’s called “Please, for the Love of All That is Good and Holy, Sleep.”

You used to be a person. You had interests, hobbies. You read books that didn’t have the words “Goodnight” and “Moon” in the title. You once watched entire movies from start to finish without interruptions. You’re pretty sure you used to smile, and not the deranged, Joker-esque grin you’ve developed from trying to maintain your sanity while walking a screaming infant around the house at 2 a.m.

And where is your darling wife, Alexia, in all this? Nowhere to be found. Well, she’s at work, technically. Which, fine. Someone has to pay the bills, but wasn’t there some kind of brochure about shared responsibility? Maybe she’s left it in her locker, along with her soul. You barely remember what she looks like at this point. You could pass her in the hallway and just nod politely, like she’s the postman.

You’re doing your best. Really, you are. But the situation is like trying to fill a bath with a teaspoon. And maybe you’re filling the bath wrong. Maybe the bath is cursed. You’ve tried everything—rocking, singing, automatic bouncers, and some baby yoga thing that some well-meaning Instagram mum swore by but mostly just made you realise how tight your hamstrings are.

Last night, you were so desperate, you found yourself Googling “Can babies drink Nyquil?” You didn’t actually give it to him, of course, but the fact that you even considered it is telling. Your maternal instincts have been reduced to the level of a sleep-deprived zombie.

You call Alexia. She picks up after the third ring. You can hear the echo of her voice, so you know she’s in one of those soundproof meeting rooms, which would be useful for something other than work right now, like, say, your mental breakdown.

“How’s it going?” she asks, with a tone that implies she has absolutely no idea how it’s going.

“Oh, fine,” you say, with the kind of deadpan delivery that would get a standing ovation on a late-night comedy show. “The baby’s great. He’s taken up wailing as a full-time job. He’s really passionate about it, you know? Very dedicated. I think he’s trying to set a record”

You hear her exhale softly. “I’m sorry, bebè. It’s just i'm in the middle of some media stuff—”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “By all means, finish giving your opinions on that new stadium or whatever. I’m sure our baby will appreciate it when he’s, I don’t know, 18 and actually sleeping. Maybe he’ll get a job there. Or just stand outside and scream, since that seems to be his true calling”

There’s a pause on the other end. Not a comfortable pause. The kind of pause that suggests she’s realising you might not be entirely okay. The baby shrieks louder, and you realise you’re bouncing him up and down like he’s a basketball and you’re trying to make a buzzer-beater shot.

“I’ll be home soon,” Alexia says finally, her voice softer.

“Define ‘soon,’” you counter, adjusting your grip on the baby before he launches himself out of your arms and catapults into a new dimension where babies don’t need sleep. “Is it ‘soon’ like in 20 minutes, or ‘soon’ like in three hours when I’ve lost the will to live?”

Another pause, this one even worse. You’re pretty sure you can hear her wincing through the phone.

“An hour?” she offers weakly, and you let out a laugh that’s halfway between genuine and maniacal.

“Perfect,” you say. “I’ll just go cry in the airing cupboard until then. The baby and I have matching dark circles under our eyes now, so that’s fun. Maybe we’ll start a band”

You hang up before she can respond, not trusting yourself to say anything else. You’re exhausted, stretched thin, and the fact that your wife isn’t here to witness the madness is only making things worse. You know she’s working hard, that she’s doing her best, but in this moment, it feels like you’re on a sinking ship and she’s on shore, waving at you from a distance.

An hour later, when she finally walks through the door, you’re sitting in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by a sea of baby toys, burp cloths, and what you think might be some sort of baby vomit, though at this point, who really knows?

You look up at her, and she looks back at you, and there’s a brief moment where you’re pretty sure she’s about to turn around and walk right back out the door.

Instead, she says, “I brought wine”

You blink at her, then at the bottle of wine in her hand. It’s a good bottle, too. The kind you used to drink before you had a baby and your definition of “good wine” became “whatever has the highest alcohol content and is closest to the till”

“Great,” you say, pushing yourself up off the floor with a grunt. “Let’s get the baby drunk”

She gives you a tired smile, but you can see the worry behind it. “Cariño…”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, holding up a hand. “It’s totally fine. I’m just saying, if we give him some wine, maybe he’ll sleep. Or at least pass out for a little bit. We can all get some rest. Or die. Either one sounds good at this point”

She sighs, setting the bottle down on the coffee table and coming over to you. She takes the baby from your arms, and you’re almost tempted to just collapse on the spot. Instead, you let yourself lean against her, just for a moment, just long enough to remember what it feels like to be supported by another human being.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and you can hear the guilt in her voice. “I know this is hard. I’ll try to be here more”

You nod, but you’re too tired to respond with words. Instead, you just rest your head on her shoulder and close your eyes, savouring the brief reprieve from the bedlam.

“Do you think he’s broken?” you mumble after a while. “Like, did we get a defective baby?”

Alexia chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “No, he’s not broken. He’s just…expressive”

“Expressive,” you repeat, nodding slowly. “Right. So we got the model with all the extra emotions. Great”

“Extra emotions,” Alexia echoes, her tone lightening. “Maybe that means he’ll be a really good artist someday”

“Or he’ll just be really good at screaming,” you say, lifting your head to look at her. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be on a team, you’ve been doing a lot of solo missions lately”

“I know,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better”

You let out a long breath, feeling the tension between you, and your shoulder, start to ease. “Okay. But if he screams one more time tonight, we’re selling him to the circus”

“Got it,” Alexia says with a smile, and for the first time in days, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not going through this alone.

[ipodfresa]

Take it off

summary: fwb!sub!abby x reader

warnings: fwb! abby, mentions of marijuana usage, sub! abby, teasing, nipple play, cunnilingus, making out, fingering, needy abby because it's my favorite. proof read-ish. lmk if i missed anything

Fall time was the best time. The stuffy, clammy summer air is gone, and the brisk fall air enters your lungs. The sound of the crunchy leaves under your feet, warm drinks, and smoke seshes in your nice, warm home. You love it. 

But.. it also means cuffing season, and you weren't getting any of that because Abby decided to stop seeing you. You know you are not supposed to get attached while being friends with benefits, but fucking hell, it was Abby for crying out loud. It was normal for Abby to ghost you for 2-3 days, but a whole week? The beginning of the season has been shit for you.

You set up your nightly, ritually smoke sesh in your room. Sitting down on your cozy floor table, convenient for times like these, you start preparing your spread. Rolling papers that left a lingering taste of strawberries, the grinder that you decorated with stickers, your lucky lighter that is always with you, and finally, your precious herb that was in a small glass jar. You put on your favorite show and start getting comfortable until you hear Abby’s signature two knocks. You feel your heart drop literally to your ass. You wait for about 2 minutes until you listen to it again.

Knock, knock.

“Are you fucking kidding me..” you mutter, pushing the table as you stretch your legs. Grabbing the first item of clothing in your hamper, you slip on a hoodie and quickly walk to the door. Opening the door where you meet a deliciously looking blonde-haired girl. Hair out of her braid and shorts that accentuate the muscles on her thighs. She looks too good, and she knows it.

“What do you need?” you said, not even a hello and not even opening the door all the way. Abby puts her arm in the doorway.

“Aw, did you miss me?” she asks, using her body weight to push the door open, pushing you with it. She lets herself inside, already looking around your living room.

“C’mon, Abby. What do you need? You want to call us off for a week and show up at my house without letting me know?” You say as you close the door, following her into your living room. You instantly regret letting this woman back into your home again. The smell of her pine body wash, the sandalwood perfume she wore, and the warmth she emitted from her was enough to open your arms(or your legs) to her again.

“The thing is..” Abby starts, but as she sits on the couch, a sly smirk creeps on her face. You bite your bottom lip, aware of the effect Abby has on you, so if she smiles, you can’t help but smile.

“Take it off,” Abby says, making herself comfortable by spreading her legs, seeing how her shorts ride up and can get a peek of her baby blue spandex shorts. You feel your face warm up, trying to keep your eyes above her waist.

“E-excuse me?” was all you could say as you stared at her in disbelief. 

She raises her eyebrows. “That hoodie,” she says, pointing to the exact hoodie you had on. “I came to get it back with a few of my other things.”

Shit.

“Look, I'm sorry,” sighing to mostly yourself. Abby reminded you that she wanted her stuff back, and because of the sudden disconnect between you two, you didn’t have the time. You took a moment to look around you, seeing if there were any remnants of her presence still lingering in your home. “I haven't done any laundry and just grabbed whatever was in my hamper. Tomorrow, I'll have a look around.”

Abby shakes her head with that same stupid smirk on her face. She flips her hair to the side and loosens the neck of her hoodie collar Was she hot..?

“No. I want you to take it off. Right now,” She says in that tone that you're familiar with. A deep, dulcet, yet desperate. 

You feel this fluttering hurt in your stomach, the good kind. You haven’t slept with anyone since Abby, and she looks like she needs you…

Fuck it.

You grab the bottom of the hoodie, lifting it and revealing your naked top half. Your skin litters with goosebumps, feeling the slight chill air around you, but the warm liquid swimming in your belly is another thing. You see the light pink blush painting Abby’s cheeks as you toss the hoodie. Fuck she’s so cute. Abby catches it but tosses the hoodie to the side and yanks your hand as you fall on top of her. 

“Abby!” you let out a small yelp as she melts her lips to yours. The way Abby was kissing you was enough to tell you that this girl was needy. Hertongue finds yours, teeth clashing, letting out small, quiet moans and whines as her grip on your arm tightens. You break the kiss, taking a good look at her glossy lips, her eyes drooped with arousal, and how her hair is already mused.

“And you said that I missed you? Look at you, poor baby.” You whisper in the space between the two of you, letting your lips linger but not enough for the needy girl below you to get another taste. 

Abby’s eyes widen for a second, opening her mouth to say something but closing it with a flustered face.

“You missed me so much,” You say as your hand creeps up on the muscular thigh, so close to where she needs you. She shifts, wanting to get you between her legs, but you’re already one step ahead of her. You move your knee, having good pressure against Abby that has her slightly bucking her eager hips. “That you came over to get a stupid sweater?”

Abby’s eyebrows furrow, and she shakes her head. This cute, puzzled look on her face makes you want to bury her in kisses, but you’re supposed to be mad at her. You lean back into her lips, biting, sucking, anything that works her up. Abby is putty below you. She lets out these moans that you’ve never heard before, high-pitched mewls that make you bite her lip harder. Your hand creeps up her thigh, up into the crewneck, and you are met with her bare, sensitive chest, rising and falling rapidly  You smile into the kiss, not wanting to embarrass her even more for coming over prepared. You grope her chest, fondling with the fat that lay there and playing with the pebbling nipple. Abby breaks the kiss, inhaling sharply.

“Ah- please.” She gasps, bucking her hips again. This was a completely different side of her. Abby has received from you, and she is pretty vocal in bed, but this fucking submissive? It makes you want to deprive her for weeks on end. You break the kiss, hurridly helping Abby take off her crewneck and attaching your mouth to her boob. Circling your tongue around the rose-colored nipple has Abby holding her breath. After a few minutes of playing with her chest, you trail kisses down to the navel. You didn’t even have to ask, as Abby was quick to slip her shorts off, tossing them somewhere in the living room.

“Mmm, needy, aren’t we?” looking into her eyes as you mutter against her hip bone, skin almost feverish to how warm she was. Abby rolls her eyes, the sass still somehow in her.

“Fuck yes, ok? Please, baby,” Abby whines, throwing her head back onto the couch armrest. She reveals her neck, sweat droplets cascade slowly, accentuating the veins that played there. Fingers are dancing up her leg, in between where you see how desperate her cunt is. Glistening, soft pink flesh and her musk have you blacking out slightly. 

“I want you to look at me, Abby.” You said, patting her thigh to grab her attention as you met with her eyes. It’s as if she was god himself. Her fucked out expression made you clench around nothing.

“Good girl” was the last thing you said as you stuck your tongue out and licked a fat stripe of her pussy. Abby can't help but close her eyes, too overwhelmed by your teasing tongue. 

“Nuh uh, look at me. I want you to watch, baby,” putting your tongue away, smoothing her shaking thighs over with your hands. She nods eagerly, raking her hair out of her face. You bite back a smile before diving in again. Spreading her open with your mouth, Abby was so wet. Slick coating your chin, you move your hand over to pull back her clit to kiss it. Moans strung out from the blonde above, not caring how loud she was getting. She grabs your hair and makes a satisfying pull to your scalp that has you groaning into her cunt. You alternate between sucking, licking, sucking, licking. Your head is spinning as you prop yourself on your elbows, applying the pressure of two fingers dancing on her clit, your jaw feeling sore. Smiling at the cute, blissed-out expression on Abby’s face makes you want to be between her legs all night. 

“Are you close?” you ask, voice hoarse after not speaking for the last 3 minutes. Abby doesn't dare to open her eyes, knowing that if she makes eye contact with you, she’ll come too fast. She nods, eyebrows furrowed as she nibbles on her swollen bottom lip from the constant biting she does. You allow it this time, allowing Abby to take in the euphoric blooming in her stomach. You really shouldn’t, wishing you had prolonged her orgasm as a punishment for ghosting you and making you suffer every night. 

“Come for me, baby, yeah? Show me how bad you want this” Famous last words before you attached your mouth back onto her clit, switching your finger to easily slip into her. Pumping your index finger in a “come hither” motion, feeling her clench around you. 

“Fuck fuck, please, I’m coming. K-keep-ah-doing that,” She hisses as her body seizes, fingers gripping so good in your scalp. Strong thighs clamp around your head as you lazily lick at her rosy clit with a grin.

Who knew Abby could be so fucking needy?

a/n: heyyyyyyy, sorry i was on hiatus for a while. i suddenly got the motivation to write, so do what you will with this

[hongism]

what lies beneath us. - c. san (m)

➼ genre; fluff, smut, slight angst for the first half but i make it better quickly promise ➼ pairing; san x afab!reader ➼ au; established relationship, college au ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 6.4k

one busy semester is all it took for you and san to find yourselves struggling to find footing in the storm that is your relationship, yet rather than let go, he asked for one more week, one more day, one last chance to help get you back to shore

part of the ...and it's snowing collab.

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➼ smut warnings; unprotected sex, oral: m, vaginal fingering, praise, body worship, service-top san, san has some slightly submissive tendencies, coming inside

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You normally wouldn’t find yourself in Wooyoung’s apartment on a Tuesday morning, sitting at the bar counter beside his roommate with two mugs of coffee sitting on the granite between you, but you also haven’t had any leisure time to waste lately. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung is even up before ten o’clock, though that might be in part due to you pleading desperately over the phone to come over.

“Oh, you make her coffee but not me? The fuck is up with that, Hwa?” Speak of the devil, Wooyoung comes into the kitchen still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“She’s a guest, you live here. And I had to wake you up because you slept through three alarms so my sympathy levels are close to zero right now.” Seonghwa flashes a faux shrug despite the heated glare he’s sent. Wooyoung lets out a huff but lets it go in favor of redirecting his attention to you.

“Right, well, what did you need to talk about so badly that it couldn’t wait until the afternoon?”

“San is coming over tonight, I couldn't do the afternoon,” you mumble.

“Is it about him then? Did something—” he waves a hand through the air like that’ll explain his thoughts, and when confusion shows on both your face and Seonghwa’s, he gives up “—did something happen between you guys?”

“It feels a bit awkward,” you admit over the rim of your coffee mug. Wooyoung scoffs at that, but Seonghwa is far more forgiving than your best friend in that he sends you a sympathetic grin. 

“Awkward?” he prompts, toying with his own drink. Wooyoung pushes away from the counter and turns to the coffee maker.

“I don't know. Yeah, awkward, a bit. I guess. Like we don't know what we're doing or how to be in a relationship anymore.”

The brutal semester you both just suffered has been the main factor in the wedge in your relationship. Weekends full of studying, ones that you spent together at the start of the semester when he would come to your place or vice versa so that you could be together even while working. Then, San started picking up more shifts at his part-time job, and you had to redirect your focus to a particularly important internship that required you to forgo those weekends in the blink of an eye. You did have two weekends free of school and work, but San had to rush home during one of those on account of his mother falling ill. The other one was shot by you falling ill with the worst cold you’ve known in all your years of living. San came by that Friday with your favorite chicken and beer, but you couldn’t bring yourself to risk getting him sick when you knew how important the semester was to him too. It didn’t keep him from coming by again Saturday and Sunday both, soup was delivered to your front door along with voice messages wishing you well throughout the night. Even your text conversations were fizzling into oblivion by the time finals rolled around, which only served to amplify your feelings of dread. 

“Has he been acting differently?” Wooyoung tunes back into the conversation, this time more serious with his tone. “Like, he's pulling away or something?” Wooyoung stands on a different footing in this conversation and knows things Seonghwa doesn't in terms of your relationship with San. He's been there for you since well before you started dating San, and you're certain that he'll be there for you if it were to end tomorrow, the next day, or years down the line. 

“It's gonna sound so childish and stupid but he hasn't been calling me nicknames since the semester ended.” You tuck your hands into your lap and shrink into yourself a little, feeling the hot burn of shame well up inside.

“That's not stupid at all, y/n,” Seonghwa reassures barely a second after you finish your train of thought. “That's not.”

“He's right. That's totally unlike San.”

“Not! Helping!”

“I'm just being honest?!”

“Look, y/n, I don't want you to start having doom thoughts or thinking the worst — that doesn't mean his feelings for you have changed.” You’re starting to think that you should’ve asked Seonghwa for advice from the start instead of Wooyoung. “Maybe he's feeling that awkwardness you are too, or maybe he's feeling insecure. The only way to know is to ask. Have an open and honest conversation about it.”

“But…” You glance past Seonghwa to look at Wooyoung's back. Without even needing to look back, he seems to feel the weight of your stare.

“You're scared that if you bring it up, the worst will happen and y'all will break up.”

“We've been dating for so long that I don't know what I would do if that happened. I don't know how to be single, no offense to either of you, but it's just that we've been together for so long now. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if it ended.”

“If…” Wooyoung bites his words back as though he's unsure of how they will come out. “I don't want this to sound harsh, but if all it takes for him to lose his feelings for you is one busy semester, then that's not someone I would want you to have a future with. I know it's not up to me and it's not my business, but I want you to value yourself more than you value your relationship with San.”

“I truly don't think he's lost his feelings for you, y/n,” Seonghwa cuts in again, hand darting out across the counter in your direction. “Woo is right; you should value yourself more than the relationship you're in, but that doesn't mean you can only have one of those things. They can coexist.”

“What if I’m fighting for something he doesn’t want any longer?” you inquire softly and under your breath.

“The spark isn’t gone, y/n, I’m certain of that much. Maybe you just… need to find a way to reignite it!” The coffee maker dings loudly behind Wooyoung. And like it’s turning on a lightbulb in Wooyoung’s head, his expression turns suddenly bright. “Why not do just that? It’s been half a decade, to be fair, so really you can’t be blamed if things feel a little stale. If you went and did things that made you fall for each other in the first place, wouldn’t that help a bit?”

“I hate to say it…”

“You always say that when I’m right!”

“Ignoring him, that does sound like a good plan, y/n.”

Despite the reassurance from both your best friend and someone you consider to be far more mature and wiser, it doesn’t fully quell the concerns settling in your gut.

It’s only been six days since you last saw San, though you would argue that it feels a lot more like six months given how absent you both have been from each other’s lives of late. While that isn’t particularly your fault or his wholly — it’s definitely a joint effort that’s kept you apart — it does make your skin itch with anxiety every time you think about seeing him again.

It’s all culminated into this moment right now, where you sit on the edge of your couch waiting for the doorbell to ring and announce his arrival. You want to see him, desperately so, you’ve missed him so incredibly much that you can hardly stand it. And yet — you’re rooted to the cushions riddled by anxieties. You tried to rid yourself of the lingering stress after leaving Wooyoung’s apartment by doing chores properly for the first time in months, going so far as to run to the grocery and restock some necessities as well. You hate to be the type of partner who cannot do anything alone without associating it with your partner, but San was on your mind throughout the day.

Will he feel the same as you even though the flame keeping your relationship alive has been inching closer and closer to nothingness? The two of you don’t fight, in fact, your friends like to say that things go a little too smoothly between you two, and while that’s true, they aren’t aware of what it looks like when you and San aren’t getting along. It looks the way this semester has, slow conversations that lead nowhere and less time spent in each other’s presence. You aren’t fighting right now, but you certainly aren’t all sunshine and rainbows. The weather mirrors your emotions — dim greys shrouded by white flurries of snow that have been falling since early afternoon.

You clench your fingers around the seam of the couch cushion. No part of you wants to play the part of the overbearing partner: if you’re too eager to see him, wouldn’t he find it off-putting? 

The doorbell rings.

It takes a moment for you to brace yourself for impact, standing and walking over to the door as slowly as you can manage without it seeming like a deliberate delay. The second you open the door, however, your worries melt away for a moment. 

San smiles so brightly like you’ve not gone a second without reveling in each other’s presence. The weather is clinging to his coat still even though he had to climb three flights of stairs to reach your door. The little snowflakes are beginning to melt into the fabric.

“May I come in?” The facade cracks a bit. It’s not like him to ask such things, but you choose not to hold it against him now.

“Yeah, yeah, I finally had time to clean the other day so everything’s — nice.” 

If your smile is strained, he says nothing about it, stepping over the threshold and into your apartment like it’s the first time he’s ever done so. He’s polite all the time, but now it makes those seeds of doubt sprout further because you’ve been together for five years now, what reason does he have to act like a stranger in your home? A home he’s been in time and time again, one he’s slept in, fucked you— 

“Do you want ramen or pizza?” You force the thoughts to come to a halt before your expression turns bitter.

“Let’s do ramen, I’ll cut up the vegetables for you.”

There’s an elephant in the room that it seems neither of you wants to address, and so you keep your mouth shut just the same as San with the thought of “maybe this awkwardness will pass after tonight”. You watch him remove his coat and hang it up on the door while still picking at your nails. He extends a hand to you, one you take eagerly, and you lace your fingers through the gaps between his. A bit like a well-oiled machine, you think, something that Wooyoung had noted about the two of you as far back as freshman year of college. San presses his lips to the top of your head. You lean into the touch ever so slightly. 

You share in a quiet synergy that carries you through the motions of preparing food, with no conversation exchanged aside from a “watch for the knife” and “careful, behind you” on occasion. You’re still trying to psyche yourself up to bring up what’s truly on your mind, so you aren’t sure that you’d be able to get any conversation out without it spiraling into insanity right off the bat. For the moment, for now, you want to simply drink in San’s presence. 

He hums as he opens a cabinet in search of bowls, but they aren’t there. 

“Oh, I—I moved the bowls to the other side.” Three months ago, your mind adds. It would do nothing but add salt to a blossoming wound. San stops dead in his tracks too. He seems to suffer the same crisis that you do right then. After a few seconds of mental buffering, he resumes his humming and shifts to the adjacent cabinet like the moment didn’t happen at all. 

You sit beside each other at the bar counter, atop the uncomfortable stools you’ve had for well over two years now, but it offers a weird comfort because it’s familiar, it’s something San knows, it’s something you share and have shared for years. 

“Thanks for the meal,” San says, still wearing a bitten-back smile. 

“Of course. Thank you for helping.” But the detrimental reality of not speaking to someone properly for a long while is that part of you forgets how to make conversation with them. There is nothing for you and San to “catch up on” seeing as you’ve been keeping each other updated on your lives through dry text conversations. “Um…” He’s eyeing you carefully now, and you could pass off the watering in your eyes as the spice of the food, but he would call your bluff in an instant. The funny thing about doubt is that once it’s taken root, it’ll keep growing back no matter how many times you chop at the stem.

“What’s wrong, y/n?”

“It’s just — I don’t — are we breaking up?”

San freezes halfway over his ramen, chopsticks nearly falling from his fingers as he rushes to put his noodles back down. Your shoulders start shaking before you can stop it. He doesn’t stop you from turning away from him, but San has always been endlessly patient and gentle with you so you don’t expect him to ask you to look at him anyway. He does rest a hand atop your forearm though, and his thumb drags small, comforting circles over your skin. 

“Talk to me, y/n, what do you mean by that? Why would we be breaking up?” The words themselves sound calm. There’s a slight quiver to his tone, however, that makes you want to crawl inside yourself and disappear. “A-Are you wanting that?” Your continued lack of response makes San more urgent than ever, and he shifts his hand to your leg, spinning you to face him. You can’t be certain of the expression on your face (though you’d wager there is some degree of hurt); whatever San sees makes him let out a distressed noise from the back of his throat. “Come here, duck, talk to me.”

Standing on somewhat shaky legs, you push yourself closer to San, and he instinctually moves his knees apart to let you tuck yourself into the space there.

“Don’t cry, baby, I’m here, you can talk to me,” he murmurs, hands cupping your face in his hands. You reach down to cling to his shirt like it’s a lifeline. 

“That’s the first time you’ve called me that in weeks. This is the first time we’ve spent time together in six days. We’ve barely spoken or spent time together all semester, and I know why — I know we agreed that school and work have to come first. I know that.” Your voice drops to a whisper as you lose the confidence to speak. “I didn’t think it would mean losing you though.”

“You haven’t lost me, y/n. I’m still here, with you, loving you just as much as ever.” San smiles a little as you push your cheek further into his palm. “My feelings have not changed. I thought about you every day, wondered how you were doing, and if you responded to my texts late, I hoped you were eating well and getting enough rest. I listened to your voice memos rooting for me every night. Your face was always the first thing I saw in the morning because I still keep that slideshow of you as my lockscreen.” Reaching around to the back of your neck, he gives you a little tug, and your foreheads bump together. “The thought of you helped get me through the semester because I knew that it was you who was waiting for me at the end of the tunnel.”

“Sannie…”

“How long have you been worried over this, baby? You should’ve come to me the moment you started having doubts. I wouldn’t have let this go on if I had known.”

“I thought I felt you pulling away so I was scared to bring it up. You weren’t calling me nicknames anymore, and I started reading into it too much and freaked myself out.”

“I’m so sorry, y/n. Don’t put the blame on yourself, it’s not a crime to have anxieties. I didn’t even realize I stopped using them. I suppose I just got swept up in my own feelings and wanted to call you by your name as much as possible.” He nudges you with his head again. “Because I missed you so dearly.” Your lips turn up at the corners, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. “And because I adore you so so much, my y/n.”

“Stop that.” You hope he doesn’t, truly.

“But I’m so mushy and full of love for you, y/n.”

“You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Oh, I can think of other ways to do that, baby.” San stands, subsequently pushing his body into yours, but your hands are still on each other, his moving down to caress the back of your thigh before he hooks his fingers around the bend of your knee and hoists your leg up over his hip. “I haven’t been good to you, my sweet,” he murmurs close to your lips. “What kind of boyfriend am I if I let you feel unwanted?” Your heart skips a beat as he grips tight at your other leg, then you’re suddenly weightless for a second as he hoists you up to his waist.

“We just ate—”

“I don’t plan on letting that stop me.” You let out a gasp as San traces the line of your jaw with his lips, hot breath spilling across your skin as he carries you from the kitchen. “Unless you want it to?” This damned man knows what he’s doing, he knows the hold he has over you — your brain is already turning into a foggy mess of want, and even the prospect of waiting two minutes for him to lay his hands on you is too much to bear. Your nails drag across his shoulders, tugging at the thin material. He misses the doorknob to your bedroom thanks to your antics, sending you against the wood a little harshly and forcing the air out of your lungs. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Still on the pill.”

“Hm?” he echoes, managing to turn it right on the second try and popping it open properly.

“I’m still on the pill,” you repeat. San freezes in place to stare at your face. You bring a hand around to toy at his parted lips with your thumb. “So you can fuck me raw.”

San becomes so dumbstruck that his jaw moves up and down over and over without any semblance of noise coming out.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a horny teenager,” he says under his breath. You drop your head back and laugh. San’s hold on you feels so blissfully warm. You didn’t even have time for this during the semester, sometimes thanks to your workloads but more often thanks to sheer exhaustion. A few solo jaunts before bed are hardly enough to please you the way San does. Based on how tightly he’s gripping your ass, he seems to feel exactly the same.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He manages to get you both to the bed without further incident, laying you down on the mattress with a sort of reverence that makes your chest swell with emotion. Even through the barrier of clothing, his fingers are hot and sear a path from your hips up your waist then right back down again as San wastes no time in stripping you of your pants. 

“I missed you so fucking much it’s insane.” You want to respond, but the sight of your lover dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed stops you in your tracks. All you can do is lie there and watch him tug your pants off, lips moving to kiss each bit of exposed skin along the way. Goosebumps rise across your body when he kisses his way up higher. His broad frame cages you in the closer he gets to your face, and despite his hands being on the somewhat small side, they feel all-encompassing when they’re sneaking under your shirt and exploring the skin beneath.

“I missed you more,” you murmur, catching his chin between your fingers and angling his face upwards so you can properly look at him. “I love you so so much, San. More than I can put into words.”

“Yeah?” You make no effort to pull him higher although he moves as though you do and climbs all the way up to be right over your face. He hums before dipping down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “I think I’ve missed you more still though—” another kiss, this time to the opposite side of your mouth “—but you’re welcome to challenge me on that.”

“San,” you whine. He pulls back and sits back on his knees. Your brain goes totally blank watching him take his shirt off. It’s something you’ve seen time and time again, truly nothing new or foreign to you, but something about it now makes your gut twist in on itself. He’s lost a bit of the muscle you’ve grown accustomed to seeing on him, now softer around the edges, at the waist and across his stomach. It doesn’t curb your desire for him in the slightest; if anything it makes you want him more, to cling to him tighter and feel him firmer against you.

He throws the shirt down to the floor and drags a hand through his dark hair. His legs are splayed around yours, putting the prominent bulge in his pants on full display before you.

“I want you to use me, y/n.” He grabs your hand from where it’s resting against the bed and brings it to his chest. You dig your nail into his flesh like it’s second nature to do so. “Tonight, for your pleasure.” His eyes trail after your every moment, watching as you sit up and pull your legs out from under him. You graze the underside of his dick ever so slightly yet it’s still enough to make his lashes flutter. 

“Then…” San is like putty in your hands, conforming to every move you make while still maintaining that unbreaking eye contact. He turns with you, and you climb off the bed to stand despite feeling seconds away from toppling over. All it takes is the slightest push against his chest for him to lie flat on his back. “Will you be good for me?” 

His response comes in the form of a bitten-back whine thanks to you cupping the bulge of his cock as you withdraw your hand. It’s intoxicating to strip him of his jeans and feel every inch of his pretty tapered waist. You urge him to move further up on the bed, making room for you between his legs once you’ve tossed his pants down beside yours on the floor. The tip of his cock peeks out the top of his underwear, already stiff and leaking precum onto the elastic band. Saucy nudes here and there don’t do him nearly enough justice, you think. You tease just the bit of him that's exposed with your tongue, licking at the sensitive and swollen head, and he twitches beneath the fabric. Humming to yourself, you inch his underwear down just far enough to put his whole member on display, along with his balls, but you don’t go any further than that. It’s enough for you to get your mouth around him, after all, and that’s exactly what you do without giving San any time to brace himself for the touch.

He lets out a desperate moan the moment your wet heat envelopes his length, fingers curling into his palms around the comforter. His hips twitch with the desire to thrust upwards, but he keeps himself firmly planted on the bed, fulfilling his end of the bargain for you and being so delightfully good. The weight of him on your tongue isn’t nearly enough; you want him buried deep inside you as soon as possible, and you’d go on and do it now if you didn’t think it would hurt like a bitch given how long it’s been since you’ve taken him. San isn’t distracted enough to miss the way you retract a hand to touch yourself, and he fights to speak through broken moans.

“I w-wanna touch you, pretty.” You lift yourself off his cock until just the tip sits on your lower lip.

“I’ll let you later when I ask you to fold me in half and fuck me into the mattress.” You sink two fingers into your hole, taking San back into your mouth to revel in that full feeling again. You’re just as needy as he is, in reality, because your walls are already coated with arousal and it pools around the base of your fingers in such a way that it makes your cheeks flush. San’s noises aren’t helping in the slightest — for as quiet as he is in day-to-day life, he is ever so vocal when it comes to sex, especially when his cock is buried in your mouth. He’s just long enough to push right into the back of your throat, making it far easier for you to take him fully. 

“Your mouth feels so — fuck, fucking good, baby.” If you weren’t preoccupied, you would love to return his words with your own, so you settle for tugging at his balls a little. It earns you a delightful little yelp, and his hips buck up to drive his dick further into your throat than expected. “Hngh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I want—” you don’t finish your train of thought, too rushed to bother with it as you scramble to rid yourself of your underwear. San greets you with his hands when you climb back onto the bed and grabs hold of your waist. He tugs and pulls at your shirt until it’s gone too, leaving you with nothing more than your plain black bra. However, even that San seems to find issue with, because he toys with the clasp until it comes loose and throws that aside too.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, settling back against the mattress. He’s always told you this is his favorite position, to see you straddling his hips and bouncing on his cock, though he favors missionary quite a bit as well because it lets him see your body and face while he’s fucking you (despite how much he loves your ass). His cock is trapped between your pussy and his stomach now, hard and throbbing for the same kind of stimulation you so desperately crave. You drag your folds along his length a few times just to tease San, but he grips your hip in warning. In hindsight, you should have let him finger you open more before because the stretch is far more than you remember — not enough to hurt, but enough for you to really feel every inch of him entering your body. It makes you writhe atop him, your spine arches, and you drop your head back. San holds you like you're a precious gem, thick arms circling around your waist as you rest your hands on his chest. The position gives you some much-needed stability, but San's fingers have begun to get severely distracting. He rolls his thumbs into your skin, pausing only to squeeze and pinch at the more sensitive parts of your sides. 

“I’m gonna start moving,” you whisper like being too loud will break some sort of seal. San nods and unwraps his arms enough to simply hold your hips. Despite the decrease in definition of his muscles, his strength doesn’t seem to have gone anywhere, because he lifts you with such ease that it’s a bit dizzying. Still, he lets the control rest in your hands. You sink down slowly on his cock, letting your walls get used to the drag, before doing the same motion two, three more times. The first whimper to fall from your lips is what snaps your resolve. San’s hold on you remains firm but only to ease the strain on your thighs as you begin to pick up your pace. 

“Beautiful, beautiful, you’re so beautiful, my sweet.” San rolls his hips up in time with your movements, driving his cock up into your cunt as you drop yourself onto him, and it reaches so deep inside you that you see stars behind your eyelids. “Missed you so much, missed this, seeing your body through photos wasn’t enough — fuck, it wasn’t enough.”

“How many, ah, times did you come to those photos, hm?” You crack one eye open to watch San’s face. He’s already flushed with want, but the red in his cheeks deepens more upon hearing your question. You lean your weight further into your hands. “I fingered myself so many times thinking of you, Sannie. B-But, hngh, it wasn’t good enough. Not as good as your cock. Nothing… n-nothing feels as good!”

San thrusts up with more vigor now, all but taking over for you to go slack above him as he drives your hips down with his hands and pushes his length into you from the opposite direction. Then, suddenly, his movements falter and stutter to a halt, and he looks just as shocked as you are when his cock twitches against your walls. A blooming of warmth fills you right after, along with the realization that San has just come inside you without warning.

“I-I’m sorry, I — I didn’t mean to, ah, I thought I would last longer.” He slings an arm up over his eyes, and the red in his face deepens in hue. “I’m sorry, I should’ve let you come first.” You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Leaning down over him, you peel his arm away from his face so that you can see his shamed expression better.

“Your dick is far from the only thing that can make me come, babe. Right?” 

He nods a few times, but there’s still a pout on his lips. You kiss it away. 

“Then—” you detach yourself from his body, bringing about an unwelcome emptiness as his spent cock slips out of you, and roll onto your back beside him. He watches with rapt attention as you spread your legs and open your pussy to him. “Why don’t you?”

San moves with surprising haste for a man who has just come, rolling into the space between your legs, and while you expected him to just use his fingers to get you off, he hooks his hands around your thighs and shoves his face into your used cunt instead. It yanks a startled moan out of you, and it’s only amplified when he closes his lips around your clit. He’s lucky you don’t give him a concussion with how quickly you slam your thighs around his head. You don’t notice that he’s moved a hand until fingers are prodding at your leaking entrance and urging the come he just pumped into you back into your hole.

“O-Oh, San.” 

Normally, he takes his sweet time eating you out, bringing you to the precipice of orgasm before sending you right back down time and time again without release. Though, either out of lingering shame at coming early or simply out of a desire to make you unravel, San laps at your clit so eagerly that it sends shudders through you. You can feel your blood rushing lower as he urges you to come, walls clenching around his fingers. It only takes another second more for the first wave to hit you, and it makes you scramble to grab hold of San’s hair as he keeps curling his fingers over your sweet spot. He does so throughout each wave of your orgasm until tears burn the corners of your eyes and you’re all but pleading for him to grant you some mercy.

“You — you had nothing to prove, you know,” you say between desperate attempts to catch your breath. San giggles and looks up at you from his lewd position. “Ugh!” You shove his head away from you half-heartedly just to spare yourself more embarrassment.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, duck!”

You only go as far as the pillows, turning back to him immediately and opening your arms to welcome him into them. 

“I came too early, of course I had something to prove,” he adds once he’s snugly placed against your chest. You slot together like two pieces of a puzzle, his head under your chin and your breath stirring the messy strands of hair in your path. “I’ve fallen out of practice. When was the last time I did that? It’s embarrassing…”

You can’t contain your laughter.

“You always come a little early when I ride you.”

“That’s not fair!”

All you can do to soothe him is pat his head. You feel a tad sticky and gross all over, but San’s warmth more than makes up for it, and if you’re not careful, you’re certain you’ll fall asleep within minutes. A small sniffle coming from the man atop you chases thoughts of rest away in the blink of an eye though.

“San?”

“’m okay, promise.”

“You’re crying, baby, that’s not ”okay“.”

“I just,” he inhales and licks over his lips, skating across your sternum in the process. “I wasn’t sure I was gonna stay afloat without you.” You comb your fingers through his hair.

“Tell me when you need me and I’ll be there. Always.”

“I didn’t want to disrupt your schedule and get in the way.”

“You have to trust that I’ll take care of myself and my responsibilities even if I help you too. You always tell me that when I worry over the same things. It goes both ways, San, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods against you. “Okay, I’ll try to remember that. As long as you don’t lock yourself away when things get tough. Rely on me if you need strength. And talk to me when something is on your mind.”

“Alright, we have an agreement.” Out of nowhere, you remember Wooyoung’s suggestion from this morning. Picking at a stray piece of San’s hair, you mull over your thoughts some more. You could let things settle as they are now since things seem to be back to a pleasant state of balance. But even so, would it do any harm to try anyway? “I’d like to go on a first date again. With you. I want us to go on a first date again.”

“Hm?”

“Like… I want us to go out like it’s the first time all over again. And feel that excitement and giddiness we had back then. We don’t have to, it’s just a thought. I don’t know. Maybe it’d be a good thing after this semester.”

Silence overtakes the room. San’s breathing is so steady that you think he’s fallen asleep, but the second you try to shift and see his face, he tilts his head up and looks into your eyes.

“Alright. Let’s go on a first date again.”

…

“I figured we’d go to that little Thai place by the grocery before heading over to the Christmas light show?”

“Oh!” Your thoughts rearrange themselves around his words. “That sounds really nice, yeah.”

“The guys wanna meet up at Wooyoung’s after for chicken and beer, but I told them I’d leave the decision up to you.” He tilts his chin a bit to the side as he speaks, lips quirked up at the corners, and you find yourself so incredibly fond of him all over again.

“Let’s see how we feel after walking around.”

You offer to drive tonight, but he denies you quickly, whining about how he filled his tank full of gas just for tonight so you don’t push the matter any further than that (though, you still tease him a bit once he opens the passenger door for you). When he turns the car on, music starts blasting through the speakers, a song you recognize well, and the dash shows that he’s been listening to the playlist you made for him at the start of the last school year. 

“Sorry, forgot the volume was up so high.” He scrambles to twist the dial down, but you stop him with your hand, gripping his wrist lightly and giving a firm shake of your head.

“I didn’t realize you still listened to it. Normally you just have the radio going.”

“Ah, well,” San’s cheeks are a bit flush under the low lights of the car, “I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit sentimental these days.” His next move is a bit hesitant; he reaches across the console and lays his hand atop your thigh. You reassure him by putting your hand over his, fingers curling around his once again. It feels normal and familiar, though you can’t count on two hands the last time you’ve done something as menial as holding hands with San. 

“San?” He makes a noise of acknowledgment while watching the road. “I’ve missed you.” His nails dig into your flesh a little, and the pressure makes your heart clench in your chest.

“I’ve missed you more.” You can only see his side profile, but it’s enough for you to catch the upturn of his lips. 

“I’ve missed you most then.” The statement slips out through a pout. 

“And I love you more than the moon loves the ocean.”

The weight of his hand is comfort enough for you to be at ease for the rest of the drive.

────────────

please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!

this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

One Night Stand (Logan)

Description: Y/N and Logan have a one night stand but Y/N is very awkward about it and avoids Logan. While Logan is very cocky about it.

Warning: Smutty

Word Count: 1,046

Requests: Hiii, I was wondering if you could write a fanfic where y/n wakes up next to Logan after a one night stand? They aren't together and they don't realllyy remember it but Logan is cocky as usually and the reader is lowkey kinda awkward about it, also you can throw wade into the mix somewhere if you like 😭, thank you

His large hands caressed her naked hips as she rode him. His eyes stared up at her with lust as she moaned his name. She was doing all the work but yet she was praising him. He was so beautiful and had the best dick she ever had. He was huge compared to her but that turned him on more than anything. Her eyes were rolling back as she whined that she was close. He told her to cum for him and she didn’t need to be told twice. Her screams of pleasure and his name left her lips til she couldn’t make any more noise. Triggering his climax he groaned and bucked his hips as he let loose in her. The feeling of her tight and warm pussy was driving him mad. Her legs were shaking and he smirked and the fact that there was no way she would be walking for the next few days. 

Her eyes opened slowly to the sunlight outside. She groaned and turned away just to bump into something that definitely was not a pillow. She opened her eyes to see Logan in her bed and naked at that. Her eyes widened and it took everything in her not to scream. He was still asleep. She thought about leaving the room but realized that this was her bed. What did they do?

She tried to think back to the night before but only remembered that she was drinking. Great, She thought. They definitely had sex but she couldn’t remember how it happened or why. She poked him in the shoulder until he stirred and turned towards her. His eyes still closed but he was waking up. “Y/N?” He asked as he opened his eyes to be faced with her. She looked around the room avoiding eye contact with him. “What happened?” He asked and she gave him a shrug.

His eyes looked down at both of their bodies and saw that they were naked. He smirked and chuckled, “You finally got me in bed.” It was more of a statement than a question. A cocky statement and she just stared at him with no expression. What did he mean finally? “All it took was a few drinks to get you to admit you wanted me and here we are.” She rolled her eyes at him and got up. His eyes followed her naked form as she gathered his clothes, “You need to leave.” She told him and threw his clothes on the bed.

The smirk he wore didn’t disappear as he got his clothes on. She stared at his delicious body as he got dressed. He walked up to her and kissed her, “Woah what are you doing?” She asked. He chuckled and kissed her head, “Well I mean we slept together right? I should be allowed to kiss you.” She shook her head and walked to the bathroom that was connected to her room. Logan walked out of her room with a smile on his face. 

Y/N avoided him for the rest of the week. Any time he knocked on her door she pretended to be asleep. Tension was high and who better to notice than Wade? “You guys had sex?” Wade practically yelled. Logan shushed him, not wanting Y/N to hear what they were talking about. “Yes and I feel like she’s avoiding me.” Wade was confused, “But she likes you.” Logan knew that and that’s what confused him.

“Yeah I’m aware but she’s being so awkward about this.” He stated. “Well maybe next time I can join so it’s not.” Wade was joking but he wasn’t. Logan rolled his eyes at the merc and got up. Y/N finally came out of her room as she couldn’t avoid him forever. Both heads turned in her direction as she walked to the fridge. “Haven’t seen ya since you got drunk.” Wade said. “Yeah well a lot has happened since then.” She said and Logan huffed. “So I’ve heard.” Wade couldn’t keep a secret for shit.

Logan glared at him as Y/N turned towards them, “What?” She asked, only looking at Wade. “You get the guy you want and now you’re avoiding him.” Y/N glared at Logan who put his hands up. “You act like you weren’t screaming my name.” He said. “Damn wish I could’ve heard it.” Wade mumbled. Y/N’s face was red from his words. “I don’t remember it, you asshole!” She yelled at Logan and stormed away. “Though if she did she would enjoy it.” Wade said. “I heard that!” 

Logan had enough of her avoiding him like she didn’t come onto him. She was the one telling him how hot he was and how she gets super turned on when he wears the suit and the mask. He knocked on her door. It was 5 pm and he knew she wasn’t sleeping. “Come on Y/N, I know you’re in there. Just open the door. We need to talk about this.” He said. She refused so he sighed, “Y/N, I’ve had feelings for you for awhile now and when you came onto me I was so happy that you returned the feelings. I mean you were praising me during sex and it was the best. But Wade told me a few months ago that you liked me so I planned to make a move eventually but unfortunately it happened while we were drunk. But I don’t regret it cuz it was the best sex I’ve ever had.” He sighed and she opened the door.

He smiled at her but she just stared at him. “You mean that?” She asked and he nodded. She was truly afraid he only wanted to have sex with her but hearing that he had feelings for her made it all better. “Yes. I like you Y/N and I have for awhile.” He told her and she finally gave him a smile. Her awkwardness for the situation went away as she gave him a kiss. This time no pulling away until they needed air. “I like you too Logan.” He figured as much. “Now I have to go kill Wade.” She said and stormed down the hallway. “WADE!” She yelled and he watched her go up to Wade ready to beat him up.

[thebibliosphere]

From what I've seen, I think the Batkids would like your book.

Hunger Pangs? You flatter me.

But also, yes thank you for this particular strain on self-indulgent brain rot. I am going to be absolutely abnormal about this.

I’d like to imagine Dick picks it up at an airport somewhere on his way back from a trip and becomes hooked on the “clever, pretty, jumps-from balconies-for-the-thrill-of-the-fall vampire and goes, “oh, same.”

The fact that it’s got a rugged, soldiery werewolf with a heart of gold who enforces self-care as a form of kink-play is also doing stuff to his brain. (That’s a thing? He can… he can ask someone for that? Who does he ask for that? It’s been weeks since he slept more than a few hours and ate more than cereal for dinner. Seriously, who does he ask? How much is it? He’s got money. He’ll pay.) The uh, the need for validation and the budding praise kink is also hitting a little too close to home.

As is “all powerful witch with the power to pick you up with her mind and throw you around like a rag doll.” (LiStEN, he spent a large chunk of his formative years surrounded by tight spandex suits, villains with sexy mind control pollen and getting kidnapped and tied up every other week. It’s not his fault he’s Like This.)

He’s not mad about it, though.

*

Babs catches him re-reading it during downtime. She’s not even that interested, more asking what it is to be polite, but the way Dick jumps and turns red, like he didn’t even realize she was in the room is… intriguing.

“I can see why you like it,” she says, several days later, casually drinking her coffee while Dick stares straight ahead, willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Magic, politics. Saving the world from certain doom with the power of knowledge and ecological preservation.” She glances sideways at him. “Vlad’s got some interesting quirks.”

“Shut up.”

“Are we sure you’ve not been compromised?”

“Babs, I mean it.”

“Mean what?” Tim appears in the kitchen as though from nowhere, pouring a red bull into the coffee pot.

No one tries to stop him.

“Dick’s reading a new book,” Babs says, ignoring the murderous look Dick sends her way.

“Oh? What book? Is it any good?”

“Uh, yeah, uh.” Dick rubs at the back of his neck, glaring daggers at Babs as she rolls out of the room, cackling. “It’s uh, romance. Kind of silly actually…”

“Oh?”

Dick nods. “It’s got a vampire and a werewolf. Two guys. And a… well she’s just sort of magic. They break into a library to save the world from ecological disaster. They’re all bi. Together. Or they will be in the next book. This one’s more about the vampire and the werewolf getting together. Um...”

Tim’s gone very still in the way he does when his brain has caught hold of something and he’s absolutely about to let it consume him. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Dick shrugs. “It’s got some kink in it,” he warns, not wanting to expose his younger brother to something he’s not ready for. Which is ludicrous because he’s Robin. And from the way Tim’s not drinking his ‘coffee’ he can tell this is only going to go one way no matter what he says. He brightens, remembering something. “But there’s, like, a non smutty version too? Or a less smutty version, I guess? I don’t know, I haven’t read it yet. I could, we could go to the bookstore, maybe stop at the art store too…”

“I’ll meet you in the car.”

*

“So,” Jason says, and Dick can already tell where this is going by the shit-eating grin on his face. “Vampires, huh? Or is it more the werewolves you’re into?”

“Who told you?” Dick bemoans. “Was it Babs?” He bets it was Babs. Fucking Babs.

“Oh, no one told me anything Boy Wonder. Tim found out the author has a go-fund-me for some medical shit that exceeded his monthly allowance and he’s been harassing Bruce to “fix it” for several days now. He’s down in the cave making a nuisance of himself right now. Apparently he quote “needs more of the bisexual monster books Dick told him about” unquote, and the author can’t do shit if she up and fucking dies because this country’s a fucking for-profit shit hole.”

Dick places his head in his hands. “Oh, God. Is Bruce mad? He’s mad, isn’t he?”

Jason shrugs. “Couldn’t tell you. Last I heard, Tim was playing him the audiobook over the bat computer to make his case.”

Dick let’s his head thump against the table. This is it. This is his villain origin story. He’s going to run away and join the Rogues. Or maybe he’ll go back to the Circus. Either option is better than the idea of having to meet Bruce’s eye later over the dinner table.

“Personally, I thought the plot was a little weak but the characters are compelling,” Jason says, sipping his herbal tea. “I liked the chill necromancer doctor. I feel like he’d be able to fix me.”

[s-4pphics]

click! 3 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 7.4k 

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black :3, crack, light smut [masturbation], sexual tension… it’s starting, light angst, weed, brief mention of suicide, pretty cute tbh

one. two. four.

A/N: hi stinks :3 i’m obsessed with them….. taking my time with these two hope yall like it LOL bye

Butterflies are fluttering, birds are chirping, and the crops are watered when you wake. You slept through the entire night, and the beast inside you is satisfied. 

But the gorgeous scenery in your mind dies in an instant when you recall what the fuck you did last night. Maybe you are a low-down, dirty whore, just like your roomie said. She has the audacity to terrorize your subconscious enough to actually feature in one of your meat-beat sessions. Not only that, but you busted in two minutes to the thought of her demanding you to fix a window that isn’t even broken. 

You… are a hoe. How awkward. You just wanted to fight her days ago, and now your pussy’s got a crush. Not you, your pussy. You accepted that you and your cunt are two separate entities a long time ago. 

You lay in your bed, eyes melting holes into the ceiling; What the fuck is going on?

Ellie… sex… her asking for head… you asking for head from her… The math isn’t mathing. Ellie’s gay as a bitch, you know that for a fact, but why her? The math has never mathed, actually. You’re going to fail statistics, speaking of… Is statistics considered math? 

It’s still freezing in your apartment. Is Ellie still not back yet? Your shared space is never this silent or cold; A rat could be crawling around in search of cheese and you would hear it like a hounddog. 

You throw your blankets off and instantly regret it; You’re shocked snow isn’t falling from inside your fucking apartment. It has to be negative thirty in this bitch. If Ellie’s asleep, you don’t know how she survived the night. 

Your knees crack as you quietly pull your door open, light creaks from the hardwood sounding your walk to Ellie’s bedroom. You can’t imagine how crazy you look, ear pressed against her door, listening for any movement to prove that she’s alive and not a fucking block of ice. 

Either you’re hallucinating, or she’s mumbling in her sleep. Her voice is hushed and croaky, supposedly asking if Spider-man stole her fucking lunch money to pay the Pope back for stealing… something; You can’t pick up what she said from out here. Your hand flies over your mouth to hide a laugh. She must be exhausted; When did she get back last night? 

You let her sleep-talk in peace and head to the kitchen to brew your coffee. You really beat off to that bonehead. Go figure. 

For the first time since Ellie moved in, you’re gone before her. 

You’re strolling the icy streets, strutting to your heart’s content, Tina Snow vibrating your eardrums. Last night’s nut really did something incredible to your spirit; You’ve never felt lighter. One more unsuspecting gust of wind and you’re taking flight, for sure. Your brain gives subconscious Ellie knuckles. 

You burst through the coffee shop like you own it, silently celebrating when you realize there’s no line. You order and receive your dark drink in record time, taking a seat by the large window at the back of the shop. What gorgeous scenery! 

Your cup is almost empty when your phone vibrates on the table. It’s Maymay! You answer with the brightest smile. “My babyyy— “

“Bitch, cut the shit! Fuck you! Why haven’t you called?” She yells through the line. 

“Well, uh…” You almost committed arson in your building! “Just… just school stuff! You wouldn’t know about that, Ms. Celebrity!” 

Your best friend giggles, “Shut up! I’m a D-lister at most!” You shake your head in denial; That internship program doesn’t understand the blessing that Amaya holds. Her ear is godsend and she comprehends sound like no other. 

“How’s the roomie thing going? I haven’t heard much!” 

Oh, fuck. “… Fine.” 

She’s silent for a second, “The fuck does that mean?” 

Your fingernail snaps between your teeth. “I mean it’s fine, just like I said.” 

Amaya hums, clearly suspicious, “… Whatever you say, then.” 

“Yup.” 

She snorts. “Anyway… what’re you doing for Chri— “

“Ellie made me bust with her telepathy.” This is not the conversation you should be having in a coffee shop, but if people heard you, fuck it. 

“… Bitch… What?” 

“I didn’t wanna tell you, okay? I didn't! Incel made her way into my fucking brain and I busted! Sue me!” 

Silence passes, and then there’s laughter from the other line. “Are you high right now?” 

“No, it’s fucking nine in the morning— “

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a lil’ wake-and-bake— “

“I just told you I mentally fucked my roomie and that’s what you say?” 

She sighs, “I mean… I saw the picture you sent me. She's not ugly. Doesn’t seem like your type, though.” 

“She’s not my type! I thought about her for two seconds on accident and I came! Abby couldn’t even get me there and she—” 

“Woah, woah, pause… Abby couldn’t get you where?” 

“Not a location, bitch. I couldn’t bust!” A sharp gasp from her. Your brows furrow, “What?” 

“Oh, bitch…”

“What, Maya?” 

You hear the smile in her tone, “You gotta crush?” 

You gag, “Fuck no! Have you lost your mind! My…” You pause and check to see if anyone’s near. Nobody. You whisper-shout into the speaker, “My pussy’s crushing!” 

Amaya sucks her teeth in annoyance, “Girl…”

“It’s true! You know she gotta mind of her own! I can’t do anything about that!” 

Your bestie’s snickering to herself, “Whatever you say, mama. But for someone that thinks with her clit… you might wanna have a conversation with her. You know her better than anybody.” 

You’re stunned to say the least. You love Amaya to death, but she’s batshit crazy to suggest that you’re crushing on someone like Ellie. She called you a worthless tramp in broad daylight, for fucks sake. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but it still stung a little. 

You sip your coffee, “I love you… I gotta go.” 

“Mhm…” You hate how sure she sounds. “Love you, too.” 

You nervously twiddle your fingers until your first class, the day dragging even more than usual. Mainly due to the fact that you’re wondering if Amaya was right. Your lectures feel like a blur; All you can think about is Ellie. The spot-covered hermit. Squash-loving loser with a decent nose… and decent hands… and decently toned arms. 

Your pussy squeezes in the middle of class when you briefly envision them wrapped around you, and it sends a shockwave to your brain. 

Oh, shit. 

Raja was sweet enough to cover your shift for you; You can’t focus on credit card sales today. 

The second you enter your freezing apartment, you hear quiet sobs. Ellie sits at the small table as she scrolls through her phone, forms scattered all over the glass. She’s sniffling and wiping her face with her hoodie sleeve, and your brows crease. 

You shut the door behind you before making your way over to her. Not too close, though. 

“Uhh… you good?” 

“Yeah.” Her voice breaks, and something shifts in you. Somewhere in your chest. Why’re her cheeks so red?

“… You sure?” You cringe. 

“I said yeah.” 

She clearly doesn’t want to chat. Whatever’s going on, she can handle on her own. She doesn’t need coddling, especially from you. Why’re you still standing here?

“I, uh… I found a Snicker’s.” You slip. 

Ellie finally faces you, clearly confused. Why can’t you just shut the hell up for once? Another shift from your chest at her teary eyes. 

“What?” 

“I mean, uh, I bought a Snicker’s. Like, candy.” You pull said bar from your puffer pocket. You did buy it for Abby for when you see her to study, but it looks like your roomie needs it more. 

“… Okay?” 

You pull out and hand the wrapped chocolate out to her, “You’re not you when you’re hungry.” 

Her eyes switch between your face and the candy bar; She doesn’t look impressed. Maybe she’s allergic to nuts! You knew you should’ve got the fucking Sour Straws—

“Thanks.” 

You barely register her taking the bar, her cold fingers brushing against yours. Another zap in your brain. She rips it open and eats it in silence. An awkward chuckle from you, “Is it yummy?” You expect her to tell you to fuck off, but she doesn’t. She just nods and chews. 

Your nosiness gets the best of you, discreetly inspecting the forms on the table. A bunch of random names are crossed out in her notebook, a couple of signed forms crumpled up and raggedy. You don’t know what any of this means. 

“You’re not slick.” Ellie talks with her mouth full.

“Hm?” 

“You’re really gonna read my shit like that?” 

You take a seat next to her, “… I didn’t.” 

“Okay,” She mumbles. “Remember…” She scratches at her ear, “Remember that booking that got canceled because of the storm?” You nod. She swallows the last bits of her candy. “I was supposed to take pictures of this couple before their wedding, but…” 

“They, uh… They don’t wanna reschedule. Said it’s too hectic because of the holidays and there’s not enough time.” 

You hum, “Okay… So, what does that mean?” 

“I can’t submit my portfolio without those pictures. And it fucked my money up.” 

“Damn… how much were they paying?” 

She scoffs, “A lot. I don’t even wanna think about how much I lost trying to get the setup right.” 

You ponder for a second, “I mean, I’m sure there’s other people who want nice pics. You’ve been hustling this whole time— “

She interrupts, “I don’t wanna hustle anymore. I’m… I’m tired. It’s fucking exhausting doing promotions by yourself.” 

You hear the stress in her voice, and you feel for her. Being a full-time creative can be pretty shitty at times. Most times. The amount of attempts you’ve had in commissioning in your lifetime is astronomical; Some pick-ups, lots of disappointment. 

“What was the shoot about? Like… the scene, I guess.” 

Ellie nibbles at her lip, “Romance.” 

“Boooring,” You joke. Ellie doesn’t laugh, so you cough awkwardly. “You gotta come up with a new plan, I guess. It’s all about the grind mentality.” 

“You sound like a misogynist with a podcast.” 

You chuckle and she continues, “There’s no new plan. The portfolio I’m submitting is based on emotion. It’s not… complete if love isn’t somewhere in there. That’s how I see it.” 

“Speaking of see, can I?” You arch your brow, “Your portfolio, I mean.” 

“No.” She says plainly. 

“Wha— why not? You saw my paintings!” 

“They’re on the wall… in the living room. There’s no other choice but to look at them.” 

“Bro, what the fuck. You’re not the only visualist in this house! I might have some pointers you could use!” 

“I don’t need pointers from you.” Aggravation clouds her pupils. You try not to take offense to that, but it doesn’t work. 

“Why the fuck not?” You glare. 

Her tone gets louder, “Because you wouldn’t understand it! Why do you wanna help so badly, anyway!”

“I’m—“ But you don’t know what to say. Why do you want to help? Ellie squints, awaiting your answer, but nothing comes out. You’re uncomfortable; It’s suddenly not that cold in here. 

“Whatever. Forget I asked!” You rise and march to your room. Another slammed door, another pending noise complaint. 

Ellie hasn’t talked to you in days, and you’re not sure why it’s bothering you. You’ve been sending her looks throughout the entire stats lecture, but she hasn’t acknowledged you once. She’s just scribbling and tapping her ballpoint on her notebook. Her notetaking seems very intense from where you sit, her eyes scanning the board. 

Does Ellie like math? Or logistics? Or whatever statistics is considered? Curiosity pokes at you; You don’t know much about your roommate. You’ve been living together for nearly a month, and you haven’t had one valuable conversation yet. What about photography interests Ellie so much? Why does she enjoy disgusting vegetables? When did she get her tattoo? Is she actually gay or are you a dickhead for assuming? 

Your venturing thoughts makes class fly by; Another successful day of not taking useful notes! 

Ellie’s packing her run-down backpack and you watch. She’s meticulously placing her books on top of each, at least from what you can see from the big hole on the side. Her headphones are thrown on, and in one swift motion, her bag is on her shoulder and she’s heading towards the door, holding it open for everyone leaving. 

You swiftly pack and walk towards the exit. Ellie’s too distracted by her phone to notice you turn the corner to watch her. All the students vacant the room, and she lets the door shut. You follow from a distance as she moves towards the staircase, down the steps, out into the quad and onto the open field. She pauses, so you do too. 

You follow her line of vision, right at the sky. It’s pretty today: the sun’s peeking out, just barely, from underneath the dark gray clouds, rays of light highlighting various sections of the quad. 

Ellie unzips and digs in her bag, retrieving the olive-green polaroid before setting her bag down on the frosted grass. She maneuvers around the grass, trying to avoid obstruction from the trees, adjusting her stance, picking the best angle before holding her camera up. One quick flash, and she’s holding a photo of the sky. 

She shakes the picture a bit before squatting to search through her bag, pulling out a large binder and placing the photo in a laminated encasing. You can’t see any of the pictures in detail, but there must be a lot in there. That binder is thick as fuck. 

And just like that, she’s off into the cold. 

You wonder what else is in that binder. 

You’re starving. The second you get that direct deposit, you’re whipping up something fierce. Shrimp and eggplant have been calling your name for weeks; You’re ravenous for it. 

You run up to the apartment to snag a granola bar, Ellie already in the kitchen, propped against the counter eating Kraft mac and cheese. 

You shut the door behind you, “Wonderful weather we’re having, isn’t it?” 

Ellie stops chewing, eyes large and soft cheeks filled with creamy noodles. “Hm?” 

You walk to the cupboards, mouthwatering for Nature Valley, “It’s just beautiful outside! The trees, the sky! Almost pretty enough to paint, ain’t it!” 

More chewing. She just shrugs, but you’re not having it, “I wish I gotta picture!” 

“… Go take one.” 

“Oh, my fucking god,” you mutter to yourself, “Can I see the picture you took earlier?” 

“… How’d you know— “

“The details aren’t important! I was thinkiiing,” you rip open the wrapping, “if I can’t see your portfolio, I can see that giant photo book you have!” 

She glances around awkwardly, “Were you watching me earlier?” 

“… Well, yes— “

“What the fu— why?” 

“I like seeing people do shit they enjoy.” You shrug and bite your bar. Ellie isn’t looking at you, but her cheeks tint, and it makes you grin. Interesting. 

You chew and swallow, “Especially talented people.” You inch closer, just barely. “You should show me some pictures sometime… I’ll show you some of my secret creations, too. A little exchange, if you will.” 

Her fingers clench around her plastic spoon, and her breathing changes, cheeks even brighter. Her hands are very nice… They look so soft. 

“Think about it,” you say, quieter, just between the two of you, “Call it… roommate bonding.” You crunch and adjust your bag before walking towards the door. “I think it’s overdue!” You throw over your shoulder before shutting the door behind you. 

You’re not sure if Ellie likes or hates compliments. 

Closing was so hectic; you don’t make it home until one in the morning. Training rookies is probably the worst part about working in hardware; They never know where shit goes. 

You don’t feel tired, though. The drive back home is usually when your exhaustion takes over, but this ride was smooth. Sleep is going to be difficult to come by tonight. 

You unlock your front door and… push. And push. And push again. What the fuck. Something’s blocking the door. You fight with the wood until the crack is wide enough to slip through. The smell in the air is very telling as to why there’s a pile of hoodies blocking the slim opening at the bottom of the door. 

Your mouth gapes at the sight of Ellie on the couch with no pants on, blunt in her hand… blowing O’s. Her eyes are glistening and lazy when she opens them. You quickly shut the door and kick the hoodies in their original position before the scent escapes. 

“Hey,” she mutters. Goosebumps rise on your arms at her voice. 

“… Why the fuck are you chiefing in this no smoke building.” 

She stares like you’re stupid. “De-stressing.”

“Deez-fucking nuts! Ellie, we’re not gonna have a place to sleep if we get caught. Bitch ass Carol doesn’t play that shit.” You hate your landlord with every fiber of your being. The second anyone accidentally breaks a rule, she’s on their ass like grass. You can’t imagine how she’s going to react if she sees Ellie being disobedient on purpose. You’ll both be living out of your car. Fucking hag. 

Your roommate sighs and crosses her legs, boxer shorts riding up her taut thighs. Alright, okay. She pats the empty cushion next to her. 

“I'm bored.” 

“Okay, what about it.” 

She taps the cushion again. Your heartbeat spikes for some reason. “Roommate bonding.” 

You gawk. Ellie’s never been this relaxed in your presence. Her posture is incredibly comfortable, leaning back against the propped pillows, manspreading. Why is it attractive?

So, you drop your bag and unzip your puffer before plopping down next to her. She says nothing, just extends the lit herb to you. You look between her and the big B. “That’s a fat doinker.” 

“… Right.” Ellie puffs once more before attempting to share. 

You push her cold hand back softly, “I don’t smoke.” 

“Okay.” One last long pull from her, and she’s putting out the grass on the ashtray. “Do you wanna play checkers?” She exhales around smoke clouds, cold air blowing in from the barely cracked window. 

“… What.” 

“I said do you wanna play checke— “ 

“Are you a lesbian?” 

Your eyes widen at your own question. Interrogation? Fuck. Ellie’s looking around the warm space blankly as if she’s trying to register what the fuck you just said. You’re a fucking asshole. 

“E-Ellie, I’m sorry, I dunno why I asked— “

“Can you not tell.” 

“Well, yeah.” You stutter, “… But I thought it was like… fucked up to assume based on uh, appearances, or whatever. I don’t have good gay-dar, so.” 

“I’ve been called a carpet muncher since I was eight.” 

“… Fuck, really?” She nods, face flat. Your fist extends, silently asking for knuckles, “Me too! That’s what’s up.” 

“I almost killed myself.”

Your fist drops with your expression. “Oh… uh, damn… Sorry… I’m glad you didn’t, though, real shit.” 

“What does love feel like?” 

This conversation is giving you whiplash. “Are you one of those fake-deep potheads? Like, you believe in flat earth and all that other bullshit?” 

Ellie blinks dumbly, “Uhh… I don’t think so…” 

“Why do you ask?” 

Ellie points at the wall, at one of your paintings. Two women laying on a bed of grass, completely at peace, surrounded by colorful flowers and butterflies. A small smile spreads across your face, recalling how excited you were to show your first girlfriend what you made for her birthday. 

“Love feels like you're getting shot… but not in a bad way.” You ramble. “It’s like… like, fuck I’m really gonna die without this person next to me type shit.” You think back to when you made the painting on the wall, the memories of your younger self so deeply infatuated with another person for the first time. It felt eternal back then, souls interconnected. 

But then your eyes travel to the next painting, right below the latter. Complete void, no color, no life, just darkness, and your expression falls. The faceless girl trapped in the center of madness is calm, though, accepting her doom with grace. 

“That makes it worse, though…” You think of Dina and how you fought. How nasty it got. How disgusted she seemed with your presence. You almost want to cry as you relive it. “When they leave… something inside you really does die. That space never really gets filled again. You’re just kinda… stuck with a hole until you croak over.” 

“What if they don’t leave?” 

They all leave. “… I’m not sure yet.” 

Ellie hums and it goes quiet for a moment. You wonder what she’s thinking about. 

“Are you a lesbian?” Your roommate throws back at you. You laugh, “Are you asking if I eat coochie?” 

Ellie nods with a giggle. You stiffen; This is the first time you’ve heard her laugh. The hairs on your arms stand upright at the sound. 

“As a matter of fact, I do!” Ellie laughs harder, head resting against the back of the couch. You watch the apple of her cheeks heighten. But then the wind blows harder than normal and they drop. She's blank again. “The heater…” 

“What about it?” 

“It’s broken…” 

Fuck. “Did you put in a maintenance request?” Her head shakes. 

“Uh… why not?” 

“Because I heard you masturbating and forgot.” 

Your heart, stomach, pride is at your feet, “… What did you just say.” 

Ellie finally looks at you, eyes doe-like, guilt swimming in them. “I’m… I’m sorry! I was sleeping and I woke up to pee but I couldn’t because you were— “

“Ellie— “

“It kept… buzzing, and I couldn’t move! I kept asking

myself how is her stamina this fucking good! It didn’t turn off until like… an hour later! I almost pissed in my bed— “

Your body heats at her confession; She thought about your stamina? You place a hand on her shoulder to ease her, and she stops. “It’s okay. I just… Yeah, this is awkward… We gotta submit that request before that next blizzard or we’re fucked.” 

Ellie mutters in agreement, but she’s not listening. She’s eyeing your fingers, the ones resting on her shirt. If you move your thumb an inch, you’ll touch her collarbone. 

“We, um… We can send it in the morning…” She whispers okay, and your fingers curl around the fabric. A sharp inhale from her, and you sigh. Her warm breath is hitting your wrist and you’re trying not to squirm. You watch her chest rise and fall at a steady pace, eyes flicking between yours and your hand. 

You watch her and she watches you, hand inching up until you’re tracing the warm skin under her tee. Your nail scratches her collarbone, just barely, and the muscles in her thigh jerk. Nope. Not happening. You pull away and stand. 

“This was… you’re funny.” You stare at your feet; You never took your shoes off. “Uh… bye.” 

“Bye.” Her voice is flat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you fucked up. 

Your shoes go flying and you rush to your room. You’re not sure if you slammed the door or not; The pounding in your ears is too loud. 

Ellie fucked up. She knows she did. 

I heard you masturbating and forgot? You left over an hour ago, and she’s still replaying that moment in her mind. What the fuck was she thinking? She wants to peel her skin off and her stomach is in knots. The ghost of your hand is still on her. She was freezing before you came home, and now she’s overheating. 

Ellie thinks she’s done a good job of acting normally around you after that night. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about it. All the time. 

She hates how, every night since it happened, she listens for you. When you come home in the wee hours of the night, the devil convinces her that you’re aching and desperate, dripping and ready to get yourself to the peak you crave. You’ve been working so hard; You deserve to wind down. 

It’s sick, she knows. She masks it well, but every time you're home, she’s hot. Roommate bonding, you’d said. Why did you say it like that, though? You sounded so alluring, like a siren preparing for a kill. 

Maybe she’s reading into it too much. You're a flirt and you’re good at it… 

It’s either hot or cold with you. Compliments, or cursing. Admiration or judgment. There’s no middle ground, and it’s driving her crazy. 

Why did you have to touch her? You could’ve kept your distance like you’ve been doing, like you did in the kitchen. You gave her a chance to run at arm's length. 

Ellie’s thoughts are racing; She needs to smoke again, but she’s too distracted to spark. That ache between her thighs is overpowering. 

Her eyes travel over the painting that captured her attention a few weeks ago. A small self portrait of you. She commends your attention to detail, but still, you’re so gorgeous in person; There’s no comparison. 

Two deep breaths, and her hand is shoved in her boxers, fingers slippery in seconds. She keeps her eyes glued to the painting as she rubs her clit in quick circles, the bud increasing her sensitivity. 

It’s like the painting moves with every squeeze of her walls: she can almost see your animated eyes rolling into your skull, your pink tongue out, drool dripping down your chin. And your voice… It’s tantalizing when you want something. She can almost hear you now: it’s so good, right there, I love when you touch me like that. 

Fuck, she wants your hands on her. Everywhere. Anywhere you want. She’s breathing so loud; She hopes you dozed off by now, even in your noticeably restless state. 

But what if you’re not? What if you forgot something in the living room, or need a drink of water before bed, and you walk in and see the mess you make her? Her hand moves faster at the thought of you angry, disappointed that she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She’ll never say, but something wicked happens in her underwear when you're fuming. She likes how expressive your eyes are. 

Her free hand flies over her mouth as her stomach tightens, the beats in her clit and heart synced. She's so close. A few seconds, and she groans into her hand, the walls melting around her when it finally crashes. Tears jerk in her eyes as she rubs herself through it, riding it out for as long as she can. 

The hand on her mouth slides under her shirt, cold fingers prodding her nipple as her orgasm descends. She gasps into the cold air, trying to catch her breath. She palms her clit and her walls twitch. She tiredly plops onto the couch, hand still in her underwear, eyes glued to your portrait, scaling the wall until she revisits the depiction of you and your first girlfriend. 

The idea Ellie’s been sitting on for the last few days crashes down on her again. You’re soft, despite what others may say. You seem like a lover. 

It’s Friday. Rent is due. Fuck. 

You just got paid, and now more than half of your earnings is in your landlord's pocket. You haven’t even been grocery shopping yet. 

Ellie has, apparently. It smells so good in the kitchen. You take back whatever you said about her and her cheffing skills. That soup was delicious; You secretly hope she cooks more. She can get down… a little bit. 

You wipe the tired from your eyes and make way to the kitchen, and your jaw drops, stunned in your spot by the fridge. Empty grocery bags are stacked on the counter, and Ellie’s frying shrimp and eggplant. 

“Hi… you didn’t eat last night. I heard you talking about egg— “

Your whimper, followed by several guttural sobs interrupt her greeting, hand flying over your mouth. Ellie simply stands by the counter with wide eyes, fork in hand. 

Ellie thinks you’ve stopped crying, “Uh… I just wante— “

More loud sobs from you. Snot dribbles down from your nose and Ellie cringes, tearing a piece of paper towel and handing it to you. You take it graciously and blow your nose. 

“This is,” sob “the best thing a-anyone,” sniffle… sob “has ever done f-for me.”

Ellie just nods and flips the eggplant. You can’t control yourself, arms wrapping around her waist, sobbing into her back. 

“I, um… Consider it a peace offering, I guess.” 

“I take back,” heave “I take back whatever dumb shit I said about you before you moved in,” heave “You’re so… fuck you, Ellie!” You hug her tighter. 

“Queers gotta stick together.” She mumbles. 

“Like wet pussy lips!” You wail, fat tears seeping into her t-shirt. She snickers to herself, “Get a plate.” 

You sniffle all the way to the cupboards and set the tiny table. 

Chef Butch. That’s Ellie’s new name around these parts. 

For someone who supposedly “hates eggplant”, she seasoned and fried the fuck out of it. Get this bitch on the Food Network!

You’re full and energized before leaving the house for once. You don’t even need your morning coffee. 

“Hey, uh… can I ask you something?” Ellie calls from the table.

You pause dish scrubbing to look at her, “Mhm.” 

“It’s kinda… a big deal.” She mutters, eyes flickering nervously. 

“… Should I sit down, or?”

“It’s not bad. It’s just… I don’t know.” 

You rinse your hands and set the last plate on the rack to dry. You grab a clean towelette and sit across from her. Ellie can’t meet your eyes and her cheeks are fiery. You smirk. 

“Need help with something?” 

Her head bobs, eyes glued to the table. 

“Then ask me.” You lean closer. Ellie whispers your name. A deep sigh from her, lips parting around her question. 

“Do you wanna model for my portfolio— “

“Of course I’ll help you send nudes— “

Confusion paints her face, “What.”

“…What.” 

“What did you just say.” 

“Nothing.” You shrug, face burning. 

“You can say no. It’s not that serious.” That guarded twinge in Ellie’s voice has returned. You don’t like it. 

“You think I’m pretty?” You tease with a pout. 

“What.” 

“You think I’m sooo hot and sexy that you’re gonna make me the star of your— “

Ellie blushes, “You’re not the… star of anyth— “

Your hands wave excitedly, “I’m so honored! I’d love to! When do we start!” 

Ellie sighs, massaging her temples, “Do you have work on Sunday?” 

“Not anymore!” You do a little dance in your seat, “What am I gonna be doing in the pics, o ye camera master?” Her ears are so red. Why is she so fucking nervous? You’ve already accepted! 

“Just look like you’re in love.” 

“… Oh.” 

Ellie grimaces at your tone, “Listen, I only have two weeks to finish this submission. I haven’t had any luck finding people to help me out!” 

You pause, “Is this why you buttered me up with a buss down plate?” 

“… Would you hate me if I said yes?” 

“Fuck, Ellie— “

“I’m desperate!” She exclaims, “But I also don’t wanna just ask anybody! I need the photos to be believable! And you kinda… you kinda get it!” Ellie points to the painting of you and your first love. 

The silence is thick as you explore her face. Her forestry-filled eyes are nervous, but there’s a glimmer of hope in her pupils. You like it; Her orbs look brighter. Greener somehow.

“I wanna see it, then.” 

“See what?” 

“Your big ass binder… and your portfolio!” 

Her eyes roll. “Pick one.” 

“Wooow, you’re really gonna ruin another opportunity for roommate bonding? That’s wild. Alright.” 

“Pick one.” She’s stern with her demand… You like that, too. 

You smirk. “Show me your portfolio.” 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You see it when it’s finished. After the pictures are done. Take it or leave it.” 

“Okay, damn,” You give up, “So… what do I gotta do for prep?” 

“Not much right now. I have to set up my equipment and all that…” She glances around the living room, “we’ll talk about the rest later.” 

“‘Kay.” You twiddle your fingers together before the biggest light bulb shines over your head. 

“I also get 40% of the earnings— “

“Fuck no.” She says with a small grin. You pout. 

You knew something was wrong when Abby randomly invited you over to study… on a Saturday night. You don’t know how she’s a STEM major; You haven’t seen her with a book since you’ve met her! 

The second she opened her door, something was off. It’s been days since you’ve seen her and she barely reacted to the grilled cheese you brought. Her answers have been curt and she’s not laughing at any of your jokes. Your Cheetos are doing a great job at soothing your anxiety. You want to comfort your friend with whatever’s bothering her, but you’re not sure how. 

So, you talk. And talk. And talk about Ellie.

“I’m not gonna lie,” You crunch, comfortable on Abby’s beanbag. “I’m kinda excited! I’ve never done a photoshoot before.” 

Abby shrugs from her work desk, voice monotone, “I mean, just be mindful. It’s obviously not a game for her so you needa take it seriously.” 

Your brows furrow, “What do you mean?” 

“Your roommate slash crush— “

Your head shakes, “I don’t have a crush— “

“Slash crush,” Your friend emphasizes, “asked you to be a part of probably one of the biggest creations of her life. If that photo book or whatever is as important as you say, it’s not just a “photoshoot” for her.” 

… Nah, you’re still confused. 

Abby scoffs, “A photoshoot about romance and you’re her only model, making you breakfast, and whatever else she’s done! How much does she have to spell it out for you?” 

“I don’t understand why you’re yelling!”

“I’m not fucking yelling! I’m watching out for you before you do something you regret!” 

You sit up straighter, “And what does that mean!”

“What have you been saying this entire time? I don’t wanna live with someone I fucked!” She mocks, “It seems like y’all are pretty close to that.” 

You stare pensively, “We haven’t fucked and we’re not going to! You’re doing the fucking most!” 

“Yeah, whatever.” She continues to scribble. 

“Abby… what’s wrong?” You clumsily stand from the bean bag. “I’m so con— “

“You wanna know what’s wrong?” She snaps, pen slamming on the desk. “Every time we see each other, you talk about her! I’m sick of hearing about… whatever the fuck you have going on at home, quite frankly! We can’t even joke around because you’re so pressed about someone you don’t even like!” 

You’re going to cry; You can feel it. Abby’s never been this upset with you, “Why did you wait so long to tell me this? I would’ve stopped coming to you a long time ago!” 

“Because I cared and didn’t want you to feel by yourself while Maya’s away! That’s why! But now, it’s like…” 

A tired sigh from her and she gives up, hand waving dismissively, “Talking about this shit is pointless. I’m going to bed. Shut the door behind you.” Abby rises and brushes past you, switching her lamp off and climbing into her warm bed. You allow your tears to fall as you gather your belongings, gently shutting her door behind you and attacking your face with your sleeve. You hate crying in public. 

The elevator ride feels much longer than it should’ve been as you weep. The doors shutter open, and you can see the weather is not on your side. It’s pelting bullets outside; You knew you shouldn’t have walked. 

“You got a ride?” 

You look over at the security guard perched behind the front desk. Fuck all feds, but Stanley’s cool. You shake your head. 

“You can’t walk home in that. Driving is also dangerous but,” He shrugs, and you sigh. You pull your phone out of your pocket. 

“Hey, Siri… Call Chef Butch…” 

“CALLING CHEF BUTCH.” 

Stanley’s warm laughter eases your shoulders. 

DING!

You unlock your phone and smile at Ellie’s text, rising from your chair. 

“Alright, Stan. Pray I don’t turn into Frosty out there,” You throw over your shoulder. 

He laughs, opening the heavy door for you, “I will! Get home safely!” You throw your hood over your beanie, easing past him and nearly being blown away by the fucking wind. How did Ellie drive in this shit!

You somehow manage to follow the view of your car, pounding on the passenger window to get Ellie to unlock it. You miss your step on the curb and fall face first into the seat. You hear Ellie’s laughter. 

“You alright?” 

“Yup! Fucking peachy, thanks!” You stumble in and slam the door with the wind, out of breath, body melting from the heat. “You couldn’t have parked a little closer?” 

“… No.” 

You stare at her through the snow in your lashes, “Ellie, take us home, please. I’m annoyed and going through a fucking breakdown, like I can’t be outside right now. I’m gonna pass out!”

“… You wanna talk about it?” 

“No.” You spit. 

“Alright.” She puts the car in drive, but her foot is still pressed on the brake. 

“I just can’t believe this shit right now!” You ramble anyway. “You think you know a person, like, fuck! This is stupid!” You punch the glove compartment. 

“… What happ— “

“Like, fuck! Fuuuck! Like what the fuck!” 

You’re screaming your head off and Ellie’s just watching, face flat as ever. It makes you scream louder. But your wails pause when your eyes flicker downward. Veiny hands clenched around the steering wheel. Your screams suddenly sound like whimpers. When’s the last time you had sex?

Is it sad that the thought of Ellie choking you out is easing your meltdown? This is the worst day ever! 

“I’m gonna rip my fucking face off— “

“Why're you staring at my hands like that?”

“What the fuck, I’m not staring. Be quiet.” 

Your roommate grins like a fox, “Okay.” 

The car’s moving and so are your eyes, all over Ellie, wherever they can reach. You’re pissed and horny and you need a shot. 

“You ever get the urge to strangle the fuck outta someone?”

“Mhm.” 

You ponder, “How does it feel to smoke weed?” 

She shrugs, “It feels good.”

“How good? Scale of one to ten.” 

“… Thirteen.”

“Better than sex?” You ask quietly. Your brain is elsewhere, locked on the bulging blue veins in her hand, following the lines through her hoodie. 

She ponders, “… Yes.” 

“You’re biased, though. I can’t trust you.” 

“Stop staring at my hands like that.” Her low voice is like a kick in your back, spine slightly arching in your chair. You’re glad she’s looking at the road; She’s making you go into heat and she doesn’t need to see it. Maybe Abby was right about you being a fucking hypocrite. 

“Or what?” Your tone is icy, and she licks her lips. 

“I’ll pull over.” 

You shudder at her boldness, “Pull over.” 

Your car jerks to a stop and you jolt forward, eyes still glued onto Ellie’s mouth. One kiss… It isn’t sex. It’s just kissing; Who doesn’t love kissing? You’re alone and warm and it’s gorgeous outside. It would be just a kiss. Just one, just one. 

Ellie’s staring at you, eyes reminiscent of the storm outside. Flurrying and dark. Her tongue swipes over her lips again, and your gut swirls. “Stop staring at my hands.” You suck your bottom lip in your mouth when her breath hits it. She’s leaning forward and so are you. Just one kiss, that’s all you need. 

Your pussy’s talking and she’s loud… Literally meowing for her. 

“Is that a fucking cat?” Ellie whispers, nose brushing yours… She can hear that? How horny are you? 

“Dude, that’s a cat! There’s a cat right there!” Her gasps shock you, and you peer out the window, finding a small, dark spot in gusts of white snow. There is a cat! 

“Oh, my fucking god! Ellie, what the fuck—“ You’re pushing the door open and she grabs your arm. 

“Wait, you’re gonna fucking fall— “

“We can’t leave her, she’s gonna die out here!” You rush out in seconds and you’re slipping like a cartoon character on a banana. You’re kissing the air to lure the kitty over, but she just cries. She’s probably starving! 

“C’mere, baby, c’mon!” You hear Ellie muttering curses from behind you. After almost busting your face on icy concrete, you’re finally close enough to scoop up the shivering ball of fur, and you’re sobbing as you wrap your scarf around her tiny body. 

“Ellie,” you choke, “We ca—can’t leave h-her— “

“Okay, okay, stop crying, where is she?” You hold up the bundled fabric and Ellie gently takes her, shoving her in her hoodie before grabbing your wrist and guiding you to the car. Ellie hops in the driver's seat, the car filled with desperate meows and your hysterical sobs. 

Ellie cranks the heat and holds the wrapped furball, softly cooing at her. 

“Where’s your mama, hm?” 

Meow! 

“No mama?” 

Meow! Meow!

You’re wailing, “She’s a fucking or—orphan— “

“Can you be quiet.” Ellie snaps. 

“O—“you sniffle harshly, “Ok—okay— “

“Hold her, I gotta drive. We’re going to Petco.” Ellie’s zooming down the street, whipping and swerving. You’re almost positive she ran a red light. 

“I know you don’t like small animals, but c-can we keep her, please— “

Ellie’s lip curls, “It’s not that I don’t… not like them—” She rambles on, but you’re so focused on the baby in front of you. Poor thing looks so tired. What if she’s sick? Oh God, she would’ve froze to death if you didn’t stop—

You blabber to her between choked whimpers, “I love you so much, we’re gonna get you safe, don’t worry— “

“Oh, my fucking god,” Ellie sighs softly beside you. 

Pheromones will have to wait. You’re a mother now. 

After your emergency pet escapade, you and Ellie sneak the cat past the complex security and into your apartment. If anyone finds out — if Carol finds out — you’re fucked… and unhoused. 

Small meows are filling your ears. Your baby’s full, at least. Poor thing was horking down minced tuna in the car. Her teeth are so small and cute. She looks like she’s going to doze off soon. 

You watch as Ellie sets up her little area in the living room… Right next to her fucking photography set up when the fuck did she do that—

The corner of the living room is fully decked with maroon and ebony backdrops, Ellie’s sticker-littered camera resting proudly on its stand. There’s a… big ass umbrella-looking thing towering over the setup and a stool on the dark floor cover. There’s a small, white briefcase on it, tied down with a padlock. It’s either a gun or her portfolio. 

“Bring her over here.” 

Your gawking gets cut short as you cradle kitty over to Ellie, handing her over so she can lay her on the small, paw-shaped bed. She’s purring; Your heart’s melting. 

“I see you haven’t changed your mind.” 

Ellie’s tucking your baby in, “About?” She hums.

“The shoot.” You whisper. 

“Why would I?” She faces you and stands. You shrug nonchalantly, but your mind’s racing. You probably found someone worthy of doing it. 

Ellie inches closer, looking down at you. “Consider it roommate bonding… Featuring adopted cat child.” 

You giggle. She's staring at your smile, all over your face. Into your eyes. Yours flicker down to her mouth. Either you're hallucinating, or she’s leaning closer. One kiss won’t hurt. 

“Um…” She whispers, gaze dropping to the floor. “Earlier I was gonna… say something.” 

“What is it?” 

She shrugs, “… I forgot.” 

“Okay.” You’re whispering now. She’s staring at your mouth. Her eyes are hypnotizing; There's a universe in them. A forest with trees that grow for eternities, miles and miles of green meadows. 

“You’re staring.” She mutters. 

“So are you.” 

Ellie wants to say something. You can see it. But she doesn’t, and neither do you. “Gotta get up early… I’ll see you tomorrow?” Her voice cracks. 

You’re cheesing and your hearts in your throat. “Yes. See you tomorrow.” 

One last toothy grin, she’s gone into her room, door shutting softly for the first time. You exhale like you’ve been holding your breath, already missing her presence. 

You’re giddy when you finally climb into bed. You can’t help but think that Ellie is, too. 

longest taglist ive ever had i am very sorry if i forgot somebody pls dont hate me i am neurodivergent : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf @fictionalgap @liabadoobee @whooknooows @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @qtgaslighter @p4ison1vy @eviestevie-14 @weaselot @elliewbbg @elsmissingfingers @lmaoo-spiderman @lyssaspengler @elliewilliamsmunch @gummydummykj @kiwikeysblog @juniorsfav @louleele @alittlextrahoney @tohoko @333-starhotline @girlkissersco @saplingkoi @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @diddiqueen @alexisvs-world @mostlyhornyandsad @lolaaa699999 @elsblunt @niyahlovesu

[prinzrupprecht]

When they hurt your feelings

Featuring: Tesla, Qin, Anubis, and Thor ( part 3 )

Idk if I’ll do part 4 unless people request characters I have not done. Also sorry for the Okita spam lately.

Part 1 and Part 2

Warnings: A bit suggestive with Anubis, name calling / swearing

Tesla

You had been married to Tesla for years but one thing he gets pissy about is when anyone touches his experiments. It’s not you but he gets irritated and has to start over from scratch.

Though, what you had done wasn’t on purpose. It was an accident when you walked into his ‘Hyper God House’ because that is what Tesla called it or whatnot. It made no sense to you it doesn’t bother you what he called things. He was testing wireless transmissions. He was so heavily induced in his work that you haven’t talked to him in a few days.

You didn’t see him in his workshop and you decided to walk over to see the blueprints that were laid out on his desk. He was dedicating his time more to this research than being at home. You were a bit saddened but he told you before marrying you that his research would always take priority and you were fine with it. Were you fine? He still showed his care and never missed any important days or holidays.

“Seriously? What is this…” you touched one of his wireless experiments but barely and that’s when you heard the door open.

“Why are you in here? I told you to not come in here if I’m not here,” he swatted your hands away from his work area. You were offended and stepped away from him. He was never mean to you and was always enthusiastic about his work.

“I’m starting to believe you don’t even care for me, I haven’t seen you in days! Maybe I should move out,” you were about to leave but he blocked the entrance. You weren’t wanting to deal with him any longer.

Tesla had realized his words were a bit too harsh despite his social awareness he changed the topic. “You know this is important to me, the evolution is nearly here. I’m this close with my wireless lighting invention. Using these would generate high AC voltages, it’ll take some time but I’ll get there.” Tesla changed the mood and all you could do was sigh.

“Here, take a break. You look like you haven’t slept at all,” you grabbed his arm and he nearly tumbled forward but you caught him.

“This is why I need you here with me,” he whispered in your ear. You didn’t want to leave him but you wanted his affection. You had assisted him in many of his experiments and inventions.

Finally, you had helped him through the house and into your shared room to sleep. “I’ll get you something to drink and eat,” but he grabbed your wrist before you could leave.

“I need you to stay here for a bit longer. Having you here with me would clear my head a bit.” He was tired and groggy but you obliged to his request. You put a hand on his forehead and chest and laid down next to him snuggled into his side.

You were glad he was still himself even when he was a science die-hard nerd.

Qin Shi Huang

He was a king and you were just someone that he acknowledged in his kingdom and nation. He was emperor of China and you were someone of lowly status not worth his time. That all changed when he saw how strong you were protecting the people in a small village from some weak demon like the previous Chiyou who ruled China.

He admired your fighting skills and spirit and offered you to fight alongside him against his enemies in China. You scoffed and refused at first. He may be the handsome king of China, but you weren’t easily swayed by his presence.

After some time, he watched you practice with the spear and archery. You were skilled and much better than some of the warriors that serve him. Before you could catch him spying on you, he was already gone.

Not so much later, you met him again unexpectedly fighting in a war to protect his country. Your country as well from someone who hated him and those who killed his adopted mother. You stepped in to help him beat them but almost at the cost of your life to protect the emperor when someone almost struck him from behind.

The blow you took was almost fatal. Qin cursed himself and started yelling in frustration. He called you reckless and foolish. He was quick and had to carry you back with some of his allies aiding your injury that had struck you in the side. The blood loss was major. Qin was hopeful you’d make a full recovery and this time, you weren’t going to do something so dramatic for him again.

He could’ve easily dodged the man who tried to sneak attack him, yet you took the hit for him? “You’re still here?” your voice was hoarse and filled with pain. Qin was hiding behind the doors to the room he told his guards to put you in.

“You didn’t even need to do that, why? Why throw your life away like that?” Qin was angry but you didn’t look at him.

“I’ve always been a bit jealous of how you had everything and my home and village was gone. Nothing left for them— my family and friends. You hurt me the most with the failures of your orders that led to this war. I didn’t want to be like you, I’d rather someone like you live with the consequences and pain.” Your words struck Qin with horror. He was mad how you could say that to him— your king!

“You don’t know me then. I grew up as a cursed child abandoned by my parents and hated by my own people. Let me make it up to you… and to those you had lost.” Qin walked over to your bedside and you noticed markings covering the side of his body painfully.

“What? You got injured too?” You were terrified and didn’t know what you were seeing. His blindfold was off and he had opened his mouth to explain to you that he has mirror touch synthesis. Every time he sees someone else get injured, he would also feel that person's pain.

“S— Stop that! You shouldn’t hurt yourself for my sake.” You were trying so hard to turn away and hope he would leave.

“No. I don’t want you to be alone. At least not under my empire. I’ll make sure everyone lives prosperously.” Qin proudly says and you can see how happy he was despite the pain he felt because of you.

“That sounds… lovely. I want to live in that place that you say is prosperous.”

Anubis

He wasn’t someone you had expected to grow fond of over the years when his father became the king of Duat. You were happy with the new changes in Egypt before the ball dropped on you that he was supposed to be engaged to an Iranian goddess Anahita who was a cunning woman. Anubis on the other hand wasn’t mad or pissed. He looked more happy with her and even followed her around the palace.

Your jealousy shot through the roof when she started to compliment his body. She was immensely annoying and you wanted to find a way out of the place. You disliked her. With immense passion.

“Hey wait up! Wait up! You left so quickly, wow you’re fast.” Anubis ran after you but you couldn’t help but want to ask him why. Why did he agree to that agreement to marry such a useless goddess? Yes, useless since she was only of love and fertility and cared for making love and seducing men.

As you were going to say something, Anahita appeared behind him and gave you a very unauthentic smile as she grabbed onto his arm and leaned her head into him. Too close… you wanted to call her something but held your tongue back. “oh, it’s you young lady of Sumerian. Anubis here was just dining with me and trying out the new fine foods Egypt has to offer. You know I wonder, why haven’t you returned back to Uruk?” Anahita grinned and made a popping sound from her lips.

“Hm, I think you’re right. Maybe I will, I hope you two the best.” You courtly lowered your head before walking away. What hurt you the most was the fact Anubis didn’t say anything or run after you.

You saw Isis near the main hall with her daughter Bastet. “You look… mad?” Bastet observed you but Isis already knows why you look upset and tilted.

“I’m leaving, don’t bother your energy with me. I don’t have time for it.” You snapped but Isis scoffed.

“Set got into your head again didn’t he?” Isis leaned back on her chair at the end of the table.

“What do you mean? He told me lord Anubis is engaged to that… that woman and she is here!” You didn’t even know it, but your hands were clenching tightly turning your hands white. The anger was surging through you and everything you had with him was gone.

“She is just here visiting my dear. My dear son Anubis has already declined her proposals.” You gave Isis a blank expression. Bastet snorted a laugh but held herself back before wanting to get into the conversation.

“It doesn’t matter he— he won’t even stick up for me. Why should I even stay here?” Your feelings should matter but did they even matter to him?

Before Isis was going to refute your claims, you had already stormed back to your room. You were tired and fed up with them. Your father Marduk wouldn’t be pleased with this. You had thought for the longest time the deal would be you marry Anubis and the trade negotiations between your two countries would continue.

“Finally I caught up to you! You keep running off,” Anubis was alone and gave you sad eyes. Finally… that weirdo goddess wasn’t with him. You couldn’t help but wonder if they… did it. Your body shudders at the thought.

“Leave me alone, I don’t want to see you.” You stubbornly turned away and entered your room. Anubis stood outside with a hurt and confused expression. You never said such words to him.

“Did I— Did I do something? I’m sorry, I’m sorry if do something wrong!“ Anubis saw you grabbing your things and panic took over him. He grabbed your arms and pulled you into him as he held onto you. His warms were tightly wrapped around your waist as your back was pressed up against his chest.

“Did you like her? That goddess…” you were frozen in his arms.

“Who? Oh! Her? Miss Ana— something? I am only loyal to you! I swear it! Let me prove it to you. Pretty, pretty please?” he gripped your sides and you could feel how desperate he was to keep you with him.

Let’s say it was a long night.

Thor

He was affectionate to you in private, but at the same time apathetic around you in public. He cares for you in mysterious ways, but he was bloodthirsty for battles and rarely was home. He puts you down as someone weaker than most gods and shouldn’t get in the way of others in battle. You wanted to prove yourself useful somehow as a goddess of sorcery and magic. You even sought the valkyries to help you.

Forseti was the most annoying man to even be around with and you could swear he was the one married to Thor and not you sometimes. Being a part of the Norse pantheon made you wonder if there was more out there than what was in the palace. Valhalla was a strange place and if Thor was having fun on his own, maybe you should too.

You must’ve been hours away from Asgard and one thought made you want to explore more of Valhalla but you didn’t want to go back just yet. Many wonders had you curious. The scenery was beautiful seeing the open mountains, blue skies and rivers.

“What might you be doing?” A slithering voice jumped down from one of the trees. Ew… you crossed your arms unimpressed. You were a sorceress, no way you would let some creature man or whatever he was intimidate you whatsoever.

“Leave me alone, I have no interest.” You flicked part of your hair back and was going to walk passed him. Something must’ve struck a nerve because the creepy guy with a long tongue tried to grab you.

“Is that so?” You tried to move back a bit and use one of your fire defence spells to burn his hands from touching you.

“You stupid cunt,” the man’s hand grew several times larger as claws were aimed at you. Oh, dear… fuck. You wish you had told Thor where you had gone to.

“Fuck you!” You pointed one of your fingers at him and tried to form a bit of lightning in the palm of your hands that Thor taught you a long time ago. You tried to deflect the creature’s attack but it was to amplify the damage but he managed to hit you pretty well.

You almost didn’t notice your side was hit but the man had a devious look on his face. “I would like to keep you alive for my own pleasures~” he licked his lips as you nearly gagged. You would kill yourself before he would touch you!

Just as you were preparing for an immediate attack, someone crashed down onto the serpent. Your eyes widened in shock. You noticed Thor’s hammer appeared right in front of you. It had completely pancaked the serpent or whatever creature he was. Huh? He was that weak?! You pouted as if you wanted to be the one to kill him.

“You followed me?” You turned to face him.

“Well, no. I was told you had left so I went to find you.” He noticed your side was damaged and his face contorted from the damage the serpent did to his wife.

“I’m taking you back and making sure you get healed. Next time don’t leave without telling me,” he went to pick you up and put you over his shoulders making you shriek.

“Hey wait! I can still walk!” he was carrying you and his hammer. He even teleported back to the palace in an instant. This man was full of surprises with you.

“I like taking care of what’s mine.” Meaning you and the hammer. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red. Thank god he couldn’t see your face since you were still hanging over his shoulder.

He dropped you off at the infirmary to get cleaned up and healed. Thor had stuck by your bedside apologizing for not being around as often. You weren’t hurt anymore but you wanted to be with him more.

“I’ll take you next time to some other places. Rest here for now.” He inhaled a sharp breath and still sat next to your bed. He would sleep in the chair if it meant you were comfortable and better.

Note: finally it’s done! Dunno what to do for the next series. Anyway, I may get back on Susano’o and Anubis one shots. Kind of miss doing them…