#like i just am very unsure if the anger is getting you anywhere?

[son-of-a-ghost]

Care (Jeff the Killer x reader smut)

A/N Yeah, I haven’t written shit to post since early high school and I just graduated college.  This doesn’t make sense, but I had a good time writing it, so I’m sharing it with the void that is Tumblr.  Maybe someone will like it, idk.  

I am also aware that this is bad.  Shush.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Jeff, please!”

You called out, begging for him to slow down, but the killer didn’t slow down.  He kept up his brutal pace, pounding into your pussy with a vigor he usually reserved for murder.  Groans and growls escaped his lips, emanating from his chest.  

“Huh-huh too much!” you whined out again, and this time he snapped up his head to look into your eyes.  Piercing blue eyes clouded with lust stared deep into your soul, wild and out-of-touch with reality.  

Suddenly, it was like a switch flipped and he remembered where he was and who he was with.  He slowed his pace.

“Sorry, love, you just feel so good.  Do you need a break?”  He questioned, panting to regain his breath and composure.

You nodded a response, taking a deep breath of relief when he pulled out of you.  Every muscle ached and you had no idea how long you and him had been at it, you just know that it was becoming too overstimulating.  Jeff straddled your thighs, leaning down to kiss your lips, hands running through your hair to comb out any knots.  

Exhausted, you kiss him back, relaxing into his kisses and touch.  Despite how rough he can be during sex, these moments of kindness and compassion when he realizes he took it too far are part of what keeps bringing you back to his room night after night, begging for him to ravage you.  

Soon, your exhaustion took over your body and you fell asleep, Jeff still kissing your lips until he realized you were asleep.  He moved off your body to hold you while you slept, pulling a blanket up over both of you.  Subconsciously, you snuggled closer to him and he smiled; a real smile.  

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

The next night, Jeff wasn’t surprised to once again hear a quiet tapping at his door.  He already knew you were behind it, but what he wasn’t ready to see was instead of you being extremely turned on and needing him, your face was instead streaked with tears and you sniffled.

“What’s up?” he tried to casually say, but the concern colored his voice more than he would have liked to let on as he opened the door further to let you in.  

“LJ is a goddamn jerk, that’s what’s up,” you sniffled again.  

“He fucking stole my rabbit stuffed animal, and yeah, I know it’s so stupid to have it but forgive me that I have something from my childhood before this fucking place.  And he won’t give it back!”  Anger filled your voice as you relayed this short story to Jeff, plopping yourself onto his bed.  

He was a little stunned.  You had never come to him with a problem before.  Usually he saw you as a confident person who wasn’t afraid of any of the weirdos and demons that called the forest home.  Yet, here you sat in his bedroom, crying over a stuffed animal.  He was unsure of what to do, but what he did know was that this was something serious.  And he wasn't very good with seriousness.  

“Uh… uhm, do you want me to get you a new one?”  Jeff offered awkwardly.  In response, you wrapped your arms around yourself and hugged yourself.  A sniffle escaped your nose, followed by a quiet, “No.”  

Jeff walked to his bed and cautiously sat down next to you.  “Why can’t you get it back?  You’ve never been afraid of any of us before.”  

“I’m not fucking scared, I just can’t find it in LJ’s stupid carnival.  It could be anywhere.”  

Jeff felt the anger building in his chest that LJ had done something that had upset y/n so much.  He stood wordlessly and began walking towards the door.  “Wait, where are you going?” you called after him.  “Out,” was his one word response.  

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

You sat in your room alone, watching the tree line outside the house for any animals.  You couldn’t sleep, you were still riled up from the events of the day and couldn’t stand the thought of trying to sleep without your stuffed rabbit.  Another sniffle held back another round of tears.  

Tap, tap, tap…

A light knocking sounded from your door.  You debated not answering it; you didn’t really want to see anyone right now.  But when the knocking came again, a little louder, you moved to open the door.  

Standing outside was Jeff, a little bloody, but gently carrying something behind his back.  Wordlessly, he revealed what he had been hiding.  

Your rabbit!

A huge smile overtook your face as you grabbed it and held it to your face.  It didn’t smell quite right anymore, but it was definitely your stuffed rabbit.  After hugging the rabbit, you hugged Jeff with an intensity he had never experienced from you.  

“Thank you,” you whispered into his ear.  

“No problem,” was his muffled response as he buried his face into your neck.  

This hug didn’t end quickly, and soon Jeff began kissing your throat, leaving nips where he knew your sensitive spots were.  You whined softly each time.  

Releasing him, you made eye contact with him and dragged him backwards into your room.  He shut the door behind him, especially as his dick started to swell and he could feel your heart rate pick up.  

Inside your room, you paused his advances to put your stuffed rabbit on a chair, off the bed.  You didn’t want your precious stuffed animal to be anywhere near the two of you while you were being ~intimate.~

Jeff grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him when you turned around, kissing you roughly.  You giggled.

“You didn’t rescue my rabbit to get in my pants, did you?”  You questioned him.  

“Of course not,” Jeff laughed back.  “I did it because I care for you and this is something you were upset about.  I knew it meant a lot to you.”  

“...you care for me?”  You repeated.  “You’ve never said that before.”  

“Oh.  You think I let you into my room every night and let you sleep in my bed with my blankets and I don’t care about you?”  He questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

“I guess… yeah, that is what I kind of thought.”  

He shook his head.  “If I didn’t care about you, I would at the least kick you out of my room after I was done fucking your brains out.  Or leave you high and dry.”  

You whined, pouting.  “Ah, shush, I wouldn’t do that to you,” he responded to your pouting.  “Now, lay down.  I need you,” he commanded, pushing you towards the bed.  You laid down, giggling the whole time.  

[newtonsheffield]

So for head on the pillow, I know we have seen Anthony jealous around men who he thinks Kate is being set up with but have we seen Princess Kate get jealous while anyone hits on her bodyguard? Before or after they’re officially out in the open together. maybe you’ve answered this already.

Kate is… fed up by the time their relationship is in the open tbh. People are far too comfortable leaning in and whispering in her ear at parties.

“Your protection officer is fucking hot.”

Kate felt a flash of anger shoot through her as she looked at Edwina’s friend, eyeing Anthony hungrily. “Mmm He’s got a girlfriend.”

It wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t a lie either. They might not have called it that exactly but she wasn’t single, and neither was Anthony. She didn’t want to feel the irritation that rose in her whenever someone mentioned him but she couldn’t help it. Nor could she help the frustration at the fact that if life were different no one would dare. Because they’d know they were together. They’d be able to walk out with their fingers intertwined or his arm around her waist. No one would question it if she was a braver, better person.

“Well, he’s not fucking married.” The girl chuckled, tugging her shirt down a little. “Fair game I say.”

Kate felt her teeth grind together. “Well, that’s not very respectful to his girlfriend or him. And she’s the jealous type, so I’d stay the fuck away from him.”

Kate downed the rest of her drink and slammed the glass down on the bar before she made her way over to Anthony. “Can you call the car? I’m ready to go.”

She’d thought it would be easier when they stepped out together, his arm around her waist as they stood at Edwina’s birthday party while her sister tried to forget about Josie Bagwell who was standing in the corner looking more than a little uncomfortable while Edwina flirted with a waitress.

“I don’t know that I like being on this side of things.” Anthony clicked his tongue, “Though I am a little curious about the selection of specialty cocktails. Did she come up with the pun names for them herself?”

“I want to assume she didn’t but I’m really not sure.”

“I’m going to the bar for a…” He perused the paper menu on the table, “Second-to-Rum. A thinly veiled reference to being second in line, i thought she was better than that. Want anything? I can do two trips.”

Kate shook her head, kissing his cheek softly. “I’m good.”

She watched Anthony make his way through the crowd to the bar in the back, still a little unsure of himself in this setting, with people he saw himself as different than. He’d asked her at least 40 times before they’d left if she was sure he didn’t need to wear a suit.

She watched him lean against the bar, talking to the bartender. And she watched as another woman leaned in beside him, whispering something in his ear.

Anthony’s eyebrows lifted, saying something as he gestured towards the bar. The woman leaned in further, her hand resting on his shoulder, right over where those bullets had cut through him and Kate felt a flicker of jealousy, of anger flash through her. Anthony took a half step back and scooped his drink up, making his way back through the crowd. She shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn’t have crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him when he kissed her cheek.

“How’s your new girlfriend?”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “she asked to see my surgical scar. I politely declined.”

Kate clicked her tongue, “Nice, you should take her up on it.”

“You know you don’t need to be jealous right?”

It washed out of her but she tried to shrug it off, “I wasn’t.”

“Okay, well let’s just remember that I watched you with Michael Stirling for weeks.”

It was Kate’s turn to roll her eyes, “He was dating your sister the entire time.”

“Don’t remind me.” Anthony winced, “Again… you don’t need to be jealous. I’m not looking anywhere else.”

[oscconfessions]

Ok, I can't talk abt Lairy anywhere else, so here goes. This rant will mainly be using "Lairy" as an umbrella term for a frienemies type relationship, though there will be some discussion of the romantic version

I personally still don't quite get why Liary is categorized as a proship, I get that people say it's kidnapper x kidnapped, but I guess I just see it as more grey than that. Liam very much hates Airy, wants to see him dead, and knows the moral horrifics of his actions, whereas Airy seems not to quite grasp the full gravity of what he's done.

Therefore, I think a proper Liary relationship would go as follows: Liam uses the computer to put Airy on the plane, and tries to hammer home the severity of what he's done, possibly through putting Airy through the same challenges or worse, maybe getting out a lot of his spite and anger on the way by killing Airy several times. This would accomplish two things: put them in eachothers shoes so they understand, get Airy more open to redemption

After an Airy redemption, I don't know, just a good ol' frienemies thing? Honestly, shipping isn't even necessary, I've used the ship name as an umbrella for their relationship, whether romantic or not,, I'd personally see it as a one sided thing where Airy thinks he likes Liam romantically, but it's just his lonely ass confusing love and just being happy to have another person around.

Liary (in a romantic context) usually seems to be a purely NSFW ship for THAT kind of content, which honestly is fine to me, I don't care what people find attractive as long as it's not kids, but I think if anything it should just be a nervous touch starved aroace confused man trying to awkwardly rom-com his way into a hug or some shit.

Real quick, let me lay out my biases. I am a Batjokes shipper, I do tend to really like villain/hero or villian/villain types of ships, and I tend to delve into biohazard levels of toxic relationships in my own writing that are more of murderous schemes than romantic dreams, but I do NOT endorse any of that irl. Listen up, if your partner is making you uncomfortable consistently after you ask them to stop that behavior, ESPECIALLY, if they are mentally or physically abusing you in any way, run for the hills. If you're unsure, seek either professional help or that of randos online, though one of those options is much more reliable. Be careful, and stay safe.

-xoxo, 🫴🫳🦷 anon

.

[perelka-l]

I feel bad for Archer. He strikes me as such a young and intelligent person. I get the impression that he experiences his emotions intensely and, for the most part, he hides it well. It’s just that when it comes to Giovanni and Nanu… they’re so much older and experienced by comparison. It’s like a child trying to lie to a parent. Archer simply cannot do it as well as he thinks. The only reason Giovanni and Nanu pretend not to notice is because they want to save him some grace. (1)

They’re also probably talking shit about him for it when he’s not there. Archer just wants to be loved by the only person he feels comfortable accepting that love from. Which for some reason is an old, fucked up mafia boss. Poor guy.

I'm gonna.... Politely disagree in most points xD I'll elaborate. As usual wwww

For starters I don't see Archer as very young. I see him as more early 30s-mid 30s category myself (I'd imagine he joined TR maybe mid-teens, btw, already when it was under Giovanni's reign).

Admittedly, Pokemas surprised me a bit with how young he sounds but also I recently got hit by a headcanon that Archer deliberately takes great care to groom himself and, in effect, looks younger than he really is, because it makes it easier to misjudge him, and that's a hc that I immediately implanted into my head. Plus, tbh, I feel like with every portrayal he looks younger and younger tho (I am unsure if I like it ngl).

With Archer's emotions I am usually struck how sentimental he can be. He emotes in LGPE quite nicely (mostly his anger lol) and his tendency to write letters to express himself is a neat little quirk that I feel like is pretty overlooked. I am 100% sure he did write at least one more letter aside from LGPE one and I... can't find it? At all?? Anywhere? I' sure I didn't imagine that, right???? wtfffff anyway he's a sentimental bitch MOVING ON Anyway, I feel like he could be a type that hides his emotions well (he does look a bity icy imho ...which is hilarious when you consider what Pokemon is his signature) and will express himself when he wants you to know what he feels. Like, for example, that he is fed up with your shit. If he wants you to know, you will know, but if he is more blank, it's hard to say. Though I really like how he hides smirk behind his hand, like he can't quite resist but still tries to be professional :)c

With comparisons to Giovanni and Nanu, I would say he does have some advantages over them as well. Archer is very idealistic and thus, driven and energetic when it comes to his goals. He is not only dedicated to Giovanni, but to Team Rocket as well - he simply believes that what is best for Team Rocket is to be led by Giovanni, and not himself. But all in all he believes firmly in an ideal, which is not something Nanu can say. Just yet another way they contrast with each other (which is something I wrote about in another anon answer).

I also can't help but perceive Archer as a determined perfectionist. That can be seen as contrast to... Giovanni, actually. Gio has more of an approach of well, I failed, I can try again later and differently, no rush tbh. Archer is different, trying to achieve something with nothing but a clear goal in mind, all tunnel vision, and he won't stop until he's clearly proven he can't get there. One could even argue Archer's failure in GSC stems from him trying to force Giovanni's hand from the way Gio approaches things. But that's an interpretation.

To continue a previous thought, I think Archer would even... appreciate being underestimated. He is a bit of a gray eminence, I feel. He has no need to be on the top, although number two fits him very nicely, as it gives him a degree of control, but he still responds to Giovanni, and Giovanni only, a sure wall behind his back (so losing that wall later on was a shock). At that, he is a number two in TR. I really don't think he got there by sheer luck alone, I do think he got this far through proper hard work and maybe on some corpses. Pokemas supplying us that Ariana actively desires to topple him and can't only speaks of his efficiency and reliability (in FRLG (presumably) she even warns player that (presumably) Archer is more powerful than she is, so make with that what you will).

That number two is a sign he's being appreciated for what he is doing. He does what is needed for TR, and this is Giovanni's reward. I don't think he cares about anything but this.

At the same time, I think Nanu wouldn't be foolish enough to underestimate him, for precisely same reasons. Anyone that got far in TR is a potential threat, and I'm gonna throw my hc here but Nanu remembers the time when Giovanni wasn't even in top 2. He is a cop and he is a traumatized man and that is enough for me to believe he wouldn't turn his guard down.

And Giovanni, well. For Archer, Giovanni is literally everything. I would say it goes deeply beyond just a crush - Giovanni is something that he can rely on as a concept, a goal to achieve and something that you can devout yourself to (and that's even how Archer describes him). Which is why I compared him to a wall, a comfortable concept on which you can lean. One could wonder if Archer perceives Giovanni as a man at all, but I like to think the answer is yes. I like a thought that Archer saw Giovanni at his lower (not lowest, that is something not even Nanu witnessed but he knows of) and is aware of some things about him that others never will. And Giovanni is both aware of this and ignores that, because Archer is equally reliable for him as well. There is this one follower that will always be devout, that you can nod at and he will come, eager to do anything you wish, and one that at that proved himself time and time again.

(and yet you left, because you found yourself not enough to lead even him. How the tables turn.)

[dudeshusband]

closer than we think, sing, r&r, salt in the snow, gravedigging, 5805, just a man, for Dude? (Also the new (?) Carrd looks so cool!!)

my carrd is kinda new (i think it was a week and a half ago? maybe two?)

closer than we think - do you and your f/o live together? if no, why not? if yes, whos place is it?

like chance, we both have a room at the hotel alamo. it isn't the same room.

I've thought that if we save up and get married we can build our own house (with some help from others in town).

sing - how does your f/o show you they love you? are they a romantic? awkward? gruff? something else? what abt you?

he's a bit of a romantic. he's kinda unsure of himself at first but he favors touch and compliments (and the occasional bantery joke).

I'm very acts of service. I'll just do whatever he needs done or i can do for him. i also like physical affection.

r&r - do you and your f/o have any plans for the future together? what do those look like?

we might have our own house and raise our oen horses, if money allows and i don't think dude ever plans to stop being deputy sheriff. my s/i would probably continue to be the security at the hotel alamo (and help out chance whenever necessary)

salt in the snow - what's the longest you and your f/o have been away from each other? were you able to keep in touch?

neither of us really go anywhere. we try to stay in town because it has almost everything we need and the next town is quite far. plus, dude has to stay local to protect the town (chance was doing it on his own before dude got sober but dude doesn't want a return to that. they both know he's a valuable asset and a loyal friend.)

the only ways out are by a stagecoach that doesn't come in very often and a long horse ride (that one probably wouldn't make by themselves because there are probably bandits).

gravedigging - is your relationship a secret or are you open abt it? if it's more secret, who, if anyone, knows abt it?

everybody knows.

5805 - how long have you/your s/i been with your f/o? how long did you know each other before getting together?

this is recent in both fronts (about 6 months).

but my s/i knew dude for 3 years before they got together (though he did spend two years of it flat out drunk).

just a man - do you and your f/o have similar or different personalities? how do they differ or how are they similar?

hm. well.

i think we both can be a bit sensitive at times and easily angered (mostly when we're going through something or stressed).

but i think dude can be more easy going and funny than i am. also i think he's braver.

we can both be insecure as well but i think I'm way more so.

also dude's a bit petty sometimes and it's funny. (like making the guy who tossed a coin in the spittoon to make fun of him, get the coin out himself. or that whole scene with nathan burdette passing his gun check). i love the self satisfied look he has at the end of both interactions. he's cute.

(both of those assholes deserved it though. they've probably been bullying dude for years).

the silver cord ask game

[therk900]

✨July TC Challenge (Day 1 - 31)✨

1. Describe your tc’s physical appearance. S wears glasses like me, is very tall and skinny! He also has a moustache. B Is a bit taller than me and has a stubble beard. There is this blue jumper that he wears lots and that I love

2. What was the first thing you’ve ever said to your tc? I’m pretty sure it was “Hey”

3. Is your tc single or taken? or are you unsure? and are you single or taken? I’m completely unsure if they are single or taken, but I know that B and S aren’t married. I am single! I’ve never had a boyfriend 

4. Is your tc more of the athletic type, the nerdy type or the artsy type? They’re all quite the nerdy type tbh.

5. If you and your tc were in high school together, do you think you’d be friends? Maybe!

6. Name one song that reminds you of your tc and explain why that song reminds you of them. S: Forth of July - Sufjan Stevens  Reason: Reminds me on how I miss him when he isn’t around  B: Get into it (Yuh) - Doja Cat Reason: When I first listened to this song at the start of 2022, all I could think of was B

7. Is your tc fashionable or are they more of the simple type? What is one outfit you’d love to see them wear? They are simple but fashionable. I would love to see them in a full suit!

8. Would you be willing to become a teacher and teach your tc’s subject if it meant you two could be together? DEFINITELY! 

9. Does your tc drink or smoke? Not that I’m aware of.

10. Name one item that is always on your tc’s desk. For B, all different types of books and for S, a mini desk plant

11. Has your tc ever done anything that has either thrown you off, annoyed you, angered you or bothered you in any way? if so, what did they do? Not really

12. Does your tc have any past jobs that you know of, before becoming a teacher? I’m not sure about B, but S worked in retail before teaching at my school

13. Does your tc have kids or siblings? if so, how many? I think S has a brother. They both have no kids to my knowledge

14. Are you taking your tc’s class next year? There is a chance because they could teach my tutor class!

15. Has your tc ever met your parents? if you were there, what was the meeting like? They have. It was good! Nothing went wrong thankfully 

16. Has your tc ever given you detention? if so, what was it like? Nope! 

17. has your tc ever failed you? if so, how did you react? if not, how would you react? They have never failed me! If they did, I would be embarrassed and I would not go to school for the next week

18. what are your tc’s hobbies/interests? are they similar to yours? S likes to play netball and B likes to play games on the PS. They are similar to mine in a way

19. have you ever spoken on the phone with your tc? what did you talk about? Sadly no. My mum has B's number though from last year. I should try and get it from her

20. if you had your tc’s class during quarantine, what were your zoom calls like? if not, have you spoken to your tc since quarantine? We used Microsoft Teams during quarantine and I had S for one of those years. The classes were fun! B came last year and we weren’t in quarantine then. Obviously, I kept in contact with both of them.

21. if you had the chance to go anywhere in the world with your tc, where would you go? what would you do? With S, definitely Italy! Maybe go to Rome and check out all the history of the renaissance. With B, maybe France and/or London! I would like to go to the Eiffel tower with him and just go sightseeing!

22. does your tc have any nicknames for you? No. I have a nickname for S though.

23. have you ever cried in front of your tc? why? how did they react? I’ve cried in front of S once. It only happened at the end of last year. He was running some sort of event for out tutor group (even though he wasn’t out teacher) I was getting overstimulated by the noise to the point of having a panic attack. My friend saw and told him that I needed to leave the classroom. He let me and I couldn't stop apologising after.

24. have you ever walked/drove to/from school with your tc? I haven’t yet. It may seem weird

25. do you know which teachers your tc is friends with at school? if so, do you like those teachers? B is friends with a couple teachers who teach the same subject as him. I like SOME of the teachers. He is also friends with this other teacher and I’m not the biggest fan of her for some reason. S is friends with one of my old teachers who taught me the same subject as him. I like him a lot as well!

26. why does your tc’s voice sound like? B has a voice that is calming and reassuring. S has a voice that is very energetic

27. do you like your tc as a teacher? are they a good teacher? They are both amazing teachers!

28. does your tc prefer books, shows or movies? I think B prefers books and S prefers movies! I will definitely have to ask them!

29. is your tc stern or easy going, in class? Both very easy going

30. how would you describe you and your tc’s relationship? S and I are very close! We are closer than the regular student. B and I are also semi close!

31. do you address your tc by their first or last name? Last name. Well, i call them by nicknames everyone calls them, which is just shorter versions of their last name.

[polillalegacyarchive]

Rory jumped up on the sofa and looked back, expectantly. Isi thought about sitting too. But her body was yearning for Rory's, eager for the tingling of their skin touching. Hands in her hair, checking that it was still behaving, she shook her head.

"I want answers first."

"Ask away!" Rory encouraged, breaking their eye contact.

"What's going on in this town?"

All Isi got as an answer was a small eyebrow lift. Clenching her jaw, she thought of a more specific question.

"How are you related to Adelyn?"

At this, Rory stood back up, crossing her arms and challenging: "Why do you care?"

"Because it seems some people would love to know her whereabouts" Isi answered right away.

"I'm the adult responsible for her right now." It was clearly a sensitive subject, Isi thought.

"Fine. Then maybe you want to tell me what the werewolves rumours are about?"

Isidora could feel her anger starting to rise, yet Rory didn't seem to be getting worked up at all. Instead, she raised her fingers to stroke Isi's cheek.

"Don't try to make me soft!"

Rory let out a little laugh, apparently amused by that sentence, before she pointed to the bookshelves behind Isi.

"Take a look at the titles on those shelves, before you bite my head off."

Rolling her eyes as dramatically as possible, Isi still found herself obeying.

"What am I supposed to see?"

Her irritated tone was now more for show than anything. Rory simply shrugged, waiting. Then, something became apparent.

"They all seem to be about wolves or something similar."

"This town's folklore is... very heavily themed."

"But I'm pretty sure I don't have to explain to *you* that those kind of stories tend to stray pretty far from the truth."

Isi froze for a couple of seconds. Again, what did Rory think she knew about her? And how did she know, in the first place?

Isi reached up, one foot on the ladder. Anything to steer the conversation away from herself.

"What do you need up there?" Rory groaned, but Isi could tell she wasn't mad about the show she was getting.

"Trying to grab one of those huge books, to hit you with!"

She heard a chuckle and stepped down, keeping her eyes trained on the spines in front of her.

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

"I'm not convinced you actually want to know, baby."

A shiver went through Isi's whole body as she felt Rory get closer.

Hands landed on her body, steadying her as she took the last step back down. Her heart skipped a beat. She could keep asking questions, but they weren't getting anywhere.

Close to her ear, a whisper: "You're leaving soon, can't we find a better way to spend this time together?"

Isi turned around within Rory's embrace, just to find their lips almost touching once more. Everything quieted. She felt her leg slot in between Rory's, held her breath for a few hearbeats.

"I noticed that you used that Billie Eilish song in your set tonight, the one I like."

Unsure why they were still talking, Isi nodded, her mind focused on other things.

"I don't know how, but you used all my favourite parts of the song!" Rory continued, her voice getting deeper. Then, she started singing. Quietly, like it was meant for one set of ears only.

"She dances on my tongue, tastes like she might be the one... It's a craving not a crush..."

Isidora's lungs were completely empty of air. Eyes on Rory's lips. Her voice was so beautiful. How come she had never told her?

"Keep singing" she heard herself order.

Rory just shook her head, clearly denying her request.

"Why?" Isi heard herself protest, while her eyes shot back up to Rory's.

"Because I want to use my mouth for something else now, if you'll let me."

The world went silent as Isi closed the gap between them.

[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

right! so. i got a message in my inbox, i've screenshot it just because i'm not sure this person would want to be interacting with me based on their DNI and as we all know DNIs make me anxious as all fuck. IN ANY CASE, the message still brings up an interesting point!

i ran across another post in the murderbot tag that i lost in my likes somewhere that i think is interesting and related to this. basically what it said was "a lot of people in the text of the series use it/its for murderbot, and murderbot has never corrected them, ergo, murderbot MUST use it/its"

which is a valid take, but it isn't the only one there is. because i don't honestly think i could claim to know what pronouns murderbot prefers just based on the fact that there's been no pushback thus far with it/its (though my memory is definitely dysfunctional, someone correct me if there is actually a preference stated) (also yes i DO know that in fugitive telemetry there's that scene where murderbot marks their feed intro thing as basically gender=N/A, which isn't the question here, because you can use any pronouns for any gender and it all comes down to preference).

the reason i don't think murderbot not telling people to stop using it/its is a definitive answer is because as a trans non-binary person who would exclusively use they/them if i could, there are still a LOT of circumstances where i don't speak up about people using other pronouns for me. i exclusively use the pronouns associated with my agab at work, for instance. and yes, you could argue that people using those pronouns still misgenders me, but if i don't correct those people and they have no reasonable way of knowing that i don't really like those pronouns, then hey, can i really blame them? it's very possible murderbot is in the same boat--we know how much anxiety is packed into that construct, and also how little human conversational aptitude is in that same space, so the pronoun thing could VERY EASILY be a case of "murderbot doesn't care enough to correct the humans about this thing in particular when there's so much other shit to worry about"

aside from that, one thing that i DO know about murderbot is that identity and personhood are big, complex, and interesting themes/issues when it comes to the character arcs and interactions we've seen. we can have so many fascinating discussions about queer characters and how queerness relates to humanity relates to identity, and i think the fact that the murderbot diaries raises a lot of questions in that vein is, frankly, awesome. i have a lot of personal opinions about how murderbot's arcs might go moving forward, and yes, one of them is that [they] will eventually realize that the extra distance from humanity the it/its pronouns gives [them] is unnecessary. of course this won't be the case for every bot (sorry miki, i think i only referred to you with they/them once but maybe i shouldn't have), and of course not everyone who uses it/its is trying to find distance from humanity, but in my personal world i find it very comforting to imagine murderbot using the pronouns i myself use and as of right now, there's nothing particularly explicit in the text saying i shouldn't.

and as an aside... this is getting very long already, but there's also the fandom factor here. people have all kinds of headcanons and all kinds of reasons for supporting/using/talking about them. when i use they/them for murderbot it does not change the actual text of the series. if you find the way i interact with this series and/or interpret the text to be grating, then don't interact with me. it's okay to block me. it's a good thing in many cases to raise these sort of concerns, because yes, there ARE shitty people who misgender others intentionally or out of ignorance. but in this particular case i'm going to say that i'm not necessarily wrong, and even if i WAS it might be more productive to just block me than to continue to interact with me. at the end of the day, murderbot is a fictional character, and it doesn't hurt the construct to use they/them over it/its.

[afandomdreamerwrites]

Scarlet

For @aguilaguerrera10, I’m so sorry for making you wait this long. But here is the first part of your request. I hope you enjoy it.

TW: ANGST, ABANDONMENT, FEELS, EMOTIONAL. (it's about to be 3 AM as I write this. I'm braindead atm) if there is anything here that triggers you that I didn't mention, please let me know.

[Art found on Zerochan and it's made by: Smileaotic1]

Between the two of you, you are the runt.

Your brother had taken almost all of your energy at birth, leaving you weak and frail. 

It was unlikely that you were to survive. In Talia’s eyes, that meant you were useless. Ra’s, on the other hand, believed in second chances. He believed that with perseverance and ambition, you would be equal, if not, greater than your brother! 

That didn’t matter to Talia. Why waste all that time and energy, if you were going to die anyway? Ultimately, the choice was hers. 

She left you in an alley on a cold, dark, rainy night in nothing but a dirty, old box. 

Alone to cry, alone to die…

Only a few nights after, maybe less, someone heard your cries and searched you out. 

A man decked out in a leather, brown jacket, combat boots, and military pants with straps, and holsters wrapped around his legs. A red symbol of a bat is plastered across his chest and his red helmet with angry, pupil-less eyes gave a menacing aura, giving a face to fear for those sorry criminals who knew him. 

You weren’t fazed by the intimidating gaze the helmet gave off; you were hungry, you were thirsty, so very cold, and your loud cries had turned hoarse and quiet. 

Jason removed his leather jacket, picking you up and wrapping your tiny body with it.

Anger bubbled inside him - what kind of monster leaves a child, a baby, to die out here? A slow, agonizing death of starvation?

The vigilante bounces you in his arms, holding you close to his chest, and shielding you from the rain as he walks out of the dingy, dark alleyway where he and you were once in. 

Originally, he was gonna place you in an orphanage. Jason wasn't fit to be a father, he doesn't believe so. Unfortunately, there aren't any orphanages nearby - none that he could trust, at least. So he kept you at his apartment for a few days. 

During those few days, Jason had to learn a thing or two about taking care of a baby. He knew the basic necessities - diapers, blankets, wipes - but things like finding the right formula, baby-proofing his apartment, and strollers are things that Jason has no idea about. 

He remembered carrying you in his arms swaddled in whatever blankets he could find around his home to his nearest grocery store. Jason was unsure, lost, and understandably, nervous. Carrying a baby to the store was very foreign to him, at the same time, natural. With the help of a few kind samaritans and some nice neighbors though, Jason was able to get through it smoothly. 

You were a very happy baby anyway. A curious one at that. 

Your eyes would wander everywhere and anywhere. You always wanted to see what’s going on, you always wanted to know what’s going on. 

One time, Jason had come back from a very rough night of patrol. You were fast asleep in your crib, that is, until the door to you and his shared bedroom opened. 

You had slowly opened your eyes as Jason tiredly and grumpily took off all his gear, throwing them to the side without care. You watch as Jason sits on the edge of his bed, seemingly staring at nothing as he sighs. 

You were only a few months old at the time, and you didn’t hesitate to babble out your nightly greetings, making yourself known to Jason. 

Jason looked over at you, before turning back and sighing, then standing up. “Sorry, did I wake you?” He walks over to your crib where you smile happily and excitedly mumble gibberish. 

Jason couldn’t help but smile as well. 

He had to admit it. You are a pretty cute kid. Your radiant smile was just too contagious. 

He picked you up then laid on his bed with you resting on his chest. You continued to smile and babble on, almost as if asking about his day. Jason chuckled and simply nodded to whatever you were saying. “Yeah.. I had a pretty rough day..”

Your little conversation continued, until he heard a crash below that frightened you. Loud shouting and yelling resumes afterwards, and before Jason knows it, you start whimpering. Jason never liked it when you cried, he found. It ignited something in him, an almost feral protectiveness over you. 

He tried to comfort you by patting your bum and hushing you. “It’s alright, kid.. I’m here.” 

But the noises never stopped. It only dragged on with more crashes, more shouting, more yelling. It was so loud, Jason is sure he isn’t the only one that’s hearing it. 

For you, it got to be too much and so you whimpered, and gripped his tank top. “Dada..” 

Jason stops and looks down at you. “What?”

You nuzzle your head into his tank top in hopes you could either block out the noises or hide in Jason’s arms. “Dada..”

Something erupted in Jason that day. He isn’t sure how to describe it. Like a spark that fired something up in him. 

Jason remembered putting back on his gear for a moment and going straight down to where the noises were coming from. You were swaddled in a red blanket, nuzzled to his chest as he held you close. 

He barged into that apartment and found a couple fighting.

For what reason? He didn't know, and he didn’t care.

He aimed his pistol at them, and it was all it took for them to go silent.

“Would you kindly shut the fuck up?” He demands coldly. 

“There are children in this building.”

From that day on, Jason promised you he would never leave your side. He promised to forever be with you and never leave you alone like he had been his whole life. 

As you grew, your curiosity and happiness grew with you, culminating into great energy with which you ran around the apartment ever since you took your first steps. Your joy was full of childish innocence and naivety, but your curiosity kept you hungry for knowledge thus making you more aware than kids your age. 

“What’s that?”

“It’s a gun.”

“What does it do?”

“It shoots and kills people.”

“...Can I touch it?”

“No.”

At first, Jason thought you wanted to know the basic things that all kids your age wanted to know - which was true, but you wouldn’t ask the typical questions he expected. 

“Why is he in cuffs?”

“Because he murdered his family.”

“Why did he do that?”

“...”

“Because he’s a sick man, Angel…”

Jason slowly started to realize you had a morbid sense of curiosity. It came natural to you.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Why do men eat other men?”

“Because they get off on it.”

“Why?”

“...”

On one hand, he’s proud of your desire to know everything. On the other hand, he’s worried that your curiosity can lead you to doing things that could get you into trouble, dangerous things.

God forbid he’ll ever let that happen. So Jason would try to be upfront with you about it. Sure, it isn’t something young kids should know, but it’s better that he tells you the reality instead of sugar coating it and letting you find out for yourself. Plus, if it does scare you, it keeps you by his side at all times - it’s win-win for him. 

Around ten years old, you wanted to join Jason on his nightly patrols. 

He outright rejected you. You weren’t too happy about it, of course, he expected this. But he’ll be damned if he puts you in danger - there was no way he was gonna let some fuck-up criminal come anywhere near his baby girl. If he touches them, Jason, for sure, will see red. 

But this is Jason. You were raised by him, and although you went along with whatever he told you to do, whatever warnings he gave to you - you weren’t going to go along this time. 

You needed to know what it was like - the vigilante life!

A few failed attempts to keep you from home was all it took before Jason gave up and decided ‘fuck it.’ “If you insist on doing this with me, then I’m going to train you how to work with me.”

And train you, he did. 

Jason taught you boxing, karate, taekwondo. He was ruthless in his training, often you came home, bruised and exhausted. He’d wake you up early to teach you basic defense skills and sharpen your reflexes. He’d test you on your ability to take down a knife, to incapacitate someone, to pin someone to the floor. 

All of it was tiring, but you were persistent, and so desperate to know that it ended up becoming your goal to become another hero for the people of Gotham City. 

By the time you were twelve, you became the new sidekick to Red Hood, going under the alter ego - Scarlet.

You mostly stayed on the sidelines, acting as more of a scout for sneaking into buildings and looking for any possible evidence, ways for Jason to get in, overhearing any juicy drug plans ect. 

You were kept away from combat, rarely ever getting into fights, Jason made sure of that. 

You didn’t mind. The entire experience of hearing and watching all the interesting crime scenes, the investigations, and the cool ways your father took down thugs - all of it was so thrilling and exciting to you!

Jason, however, was paranoid. It was always a risk to send you in by yourself, and sometimes his fear would become too much, and he just decides to keep you on the look-out. Good thing though is that you were a good kid. You listen to your father most of the time, and rarely get yourself into danger. Everything seemed normal, in your own ways.

Then Jason met your grandfather.

He learned of your existence, your birth, your father, and most of all, the parent who abandoned you - Talia. 

Jason has some ‘history’ with that woman, and he isn’t really fond of her, but now. 

Oh, now he despises her. 

Ra’s was hoping to take you back, raise you under his wing and become part of his League of Assassins.

Jason won’t have it. This man allowed his own granddaughter to be left for dead and now he expects to have her back as if he didn’t let you be killed?

“That kid is mine.” Jason spat. 

“She’s not yours. She never was and never will be.” Jason turns his back on Ra’s, beginning to walk away as the man watches him blankly. 

“And if you or any of your little posse come anywhere near my girl. I’ll make sure every single one of you is buried six feet under.”

And with that, he left. 

He never mentioned it to you, but little did he know, you had heard his conversation with Ra’s.

You heard everything. 

Did that change anything? No. 

Jason is still your dad, you were his little girl and you two love each other very much. 

You guys are family, no matter what. 

And speaking of family, you met your father…

[DISCLAIMER: This work and any other works I do is purely fiction and fantasy. I do NOT condone any behaviors like this or other yandere behaviors in real life. If you experience something like this, I strongly advise you get help. Again, this work is purely fantasy and should not be done or supported in real life.]

[maaarijaaa]

Mine❦Sherlock Holmes Part Three

Sherlock Holmes x Reader 

Summary: Sherlock Holmes, the most famous detective in the world. After finishing a case, he decided to visit Enola and his mother. On the first day of the visit he laid his eyes on a beauty, you

Discailmer:  I do NOT allow for my work to be translated or posted anywhere else on this app or other platforms. English is not my first language so let me know if I made any mistakes! 

Masterlist

Series Masterlist  

Part Two   

Words count: 1.2k

A/N: I have gotten so much so support for this series that some of you even made me cry. Thank you for the amount of the support and love you have shown me and thank you for 183 followers!! 

You were woken up from your sleep by birds singing outside your window. 

You were trying to forget the events from last night, so you started your day with getting ready before heading downstairs for breakfast. 

You woke up pretty happy and was looking forward to your meeting with Sherlock, until you went down stairs.  

“Good morning, princess!” 

“Good morning father.” 

“Woke up in a bad mood? Chef made your favorites for breakfast!” 

“Well there are a few things that I would like to talk to you about.” 

“Okay, what is it?” 

“Why does Mycroft have to be my plus one?” 

“Y/N, he is a really nice and polite guy. You should definitely go with him. It would be a great picture for the business.” 

“Don't be ridiculous, father! Both me and you know that he has zero knowledge about women’s rights and the last thing he would ever do for one is to show some respect!” 

“But he showed you respect last night. That’s a good thing-” 

You cut him off. Of course, he cares more about business than his own daughter. 

“Oh please father, he showed respect for your money, not me.” 

“How dare you talk about him like that?!” “And how dare you say that it would be a great picture for the business if I go to the event with him?! That your business is a bigger priority than your own daughter's happiness!” 

“That is not true, I do care about your happiness! That's why I think going to the event as Mycroft's plus one would be a great idea!”  

You wanted to continue but your dad cut you off. 

“I know how you feel about your past relationships and I just really think that this would be a good idea!” 

“Well if you really care about my happiness, you should let me choose my own plus one!” 

“Alright, you have two days to find a plus one or else you are attending the event with Mycroft!” 

“Thank you, father!” 

After your little conversation with your father, you heard someone knocking on the dining room door. 

“Good Morning Mr Taylor!” 

Of course, it was Mycroft. 

“Mycroft! Come and sit here with us!” 

“Having an interesting conversation?” 

“Well Mycroft, there is something we have to discuss upon my daughter's request.”  

Your eyes moved to Mycroft when your father said his name. 

“The thing is, my daughter is very unsure about being your plus one at the event I will be hosting next week, so I gave her two days to find a plus one. If she succeeds , then she will be attending the event with someone else. If not, she will be attending with you.” 

At that very moment, you could see anger running through Mycroft's face. 

“You really think that's going to stop me?” He thought to himself. 

Sherlock’s POV 

Sherlock could not wait to meet up with you. 

He bought you flowers and was standing in front of a mirror, making sure that he looks great. 

“Someone is in a good mood today!” 

Of course, it was Enola. 

“I am meeting up with Ms Tay- I mean Y/N in an hour or so. Do you think she would like these flowers?” 

“I think she would love them Sherlock, but hurry up and get ready. You wanna look good for her and remember be nice and polite-” 

“Okay Enola, I get it.” 

And after that they smiled at each other and Enola left the room. 

Sherlock left his room and was met by his brother at the doorstep of their mothers house. 

“Were you not supposed to be at Mr Taylor’s house?”  

“I was until his daughter decided to ruin it all!”     

Ohh, this was interesting. 

“What do you mean by that? 

“Well Mr Taylor is hosting an event for his business and everybody that is invited, should bring a plus one! I requested Y/N to be my plus one but she had other plans. Mr Taylor gave her two days to find a new plus one or else, she would be attending the event with me.”  

Sherlock felt like he was punched in the heart at that very moment. Why would his brother do that? Well, business for sure. Mycroft did not give a single damn about your feelings. 

“Sorry to hear that” 

Sherlock acted cool. He did not want his brother to know that he was meeting up with you. 

After that, Mycroft walked inside the house and Sherlock went to your meetup spot.

What Sherlock did not know is that Mycroft was going to spy on you and destroy  your chance of finding someone. 

At The Flower Field 

“Sherlock! Up here!” 

He instantly smiled seeing you sitting in a tree. He did not forget the promise he made. He hoped you felt the same way, or else he would look very dumb.

“What are you doing up here?” Sherlock sat next to you on the tree. 

“I wanted to ask you something-” 

“To be your plus one at your fathers event.” 

“How did you know?” 

“Mycroft told me.” 

“Come on Sherlock, say it already!” he thought to himself.  

“I would gladly be your plus one!” 

“Really!?” 

Before Sherlock could respond, you jumped and hugged him tightly. You had to be careful since you were sitting on a tree. 

“There is something else that I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Great job Sherlock, now say it

“Do you remember the first day we met at my mothers house for dinner?”  

“Of course I do!” 

Say it Sherlock! 

“Well that day when I saw your beautiful face, I felt something that I have not felt for a long time. It was love. I have realized that I am in love with you since you walked into my life. I could not get you out of my head ever since and I promised myself that I would tell you that the next time we met and-” 

Sherlock's sentence was cut by your lips on his. 

“I feel the same way” 

At that exact moment, Sherlock wanted to faint. You were in love with him too. 

You continued on with your kiss but stopped before it got heated. After you stopped, you pushed your foreheads together. 

“What are you going to tell Mycroft?”   

“Don't worry about him Sherlock, he lost.” 

After that you both get down from the tree and walk down the flower field, hand in hand.  

What you did not know was that Mycroft was watching all of it. He has been hiding this whole time. He found a hiding spot near the tree you sat on so he could hear yours and Sherlock’s communication. He was honestly shocked that you would rather go with Sherlock instead of him but the problem was that you and Sherlock were in love with each other. He did not want that.

Mycroft was not in love with you, but your fathers money was the loves of his life. He saw your love for Sherlock as a threat to ever become business partners with your dad. So he will let you go on that event with Sherlock, but after that, he would do anything to split you from each other.

Tag list: @summersong69 @muffinsssss @mis-lil-red​

[winter-soldier-vibes]

just a wittle request, could you do something where bucky comforts the reader who has mommy issues after she has a panic attack over the thought of turning out like her mother?

Hi there, sorry this took so long! I still haven’t processed my own so I had to take a few breaks. I apologize if this is off the path of what you meant, I’m going off of my own experience but I know it’s different for everyone.

You're nothing like her.

Bucky x reader

Word count: 3219

Warnings: mommy issues, toxic childhood, talk of divorce, panic attack/anxiety, negative self-talk

A/N: This takes place in a timeline where Bucky is retired

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

You did everything you could to avoid it. To avoid her

You left home as soon as you could. When you were in college you were surrounded by people who were homesick, people who wanted to go home, people who finally had to take care of themselves. Things you couldn’t relate to.

You had been supporting yourself most of your life. Not that you had much of a choice. Your dad left when you were younger, your mother blaming it on you. If you had been better, maybe he wouldn’t have left. You, being young, believed her. What else were you supposed to do, growing up in a world that preaches ‘mother knows best’?

Load of bullshit to you.

You knew better now, being an adult, that she didn’t know best. She worked or went out with friends and left you to raise yourself, telling you it was your fault when she neglected her responsibilities. And when you would get upset she would play the victim, crying ‘woe is me’ because you were so ungrateful to the person who raised you after you drove her husband out.

“You know it’s your fault right?” she had snapped at you one night at dinner. There was a graded paper, a B written on the top of it.

“What?”

“You’re the reason he left me. He just couldn’t stand you. You’re the reason why he left and why I’m so miserable now.”

You had felt tears in your eyes.

“Tears, really? Tears aren't going to change the fact that MY husband LEFT.”

Her husband, not your father.

No, you knew better now to know that what she had done and said was wrong. But that didn’t make you forget. It didn’t make it any easier for you.

You went to college, saved up as much as you could, and gave tight-lipped smiles when people asked why you didn’t go home on weekends or vacations. You tried not to talk about her much, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about her.

You had stood at your college graduation, caps thrown and loud laughs and cheers echoing around. There were a bunch of people celebrating around you, taking photos, but you had stood on the outskirts. You had a small smile on your face for everyone else, but you couldn’t help but feel empty inside. You hadn’t made many friends, not close friends, but that was a good thing. You could take the photo so no one was left out.

Not so much of a text from her. She hadn’t come, she hadn’t called or anything.

In a twisted way, you were glad that she hadn’t. She couldn’t make a big deal about how you weren’t the top of your class or how you didn’t deserve to be. How you didn’t have a job set up to start the next week even though you already were planning on submitting your resumes. There wasn’t a way to please her, so it was almost better that she wasn’t there.

You had texted her after a few days and she made up some bullshit excuse that she had forgotten to put it on the calendar.

She liked your Instagram photo though. So thoughtful

You worried you would turn out the same way. Or that she had rubbed off on you in some way. You kept to yourself as much as you could, staying in, keeping your emotions to yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust people, maybe it was, but more so you were worried that you would seem like you were playing the victim.

You didn’t want to bother anyone or make anyone feel obligated to listen to you. You worried that behind your back they would complain about you being emotional or making everything about you.

You worried they would talk about you the same way you thought about your mother.

People are supposed to look to their parents to teach them what to be, yet you found yourself wanting to avoid everything your parents did to you. They taught you exactly who you didn’t want to be.

Your father left. Your mother hated you.

You didn’t share your opinions because you didn’t want to be told you were wrong. You didn’t want to force your ideas onto anyone. Not like what you said would make a difference anyway, not that it mattered in the first place.

You remembered all of the sentences you would start but not finish because no one had heard you. Trying to jump in a few times and eventually giving up when the conversation had moved onto a new subject. All the times people would interrupt or interject, making you feel like you didn’t have something to say that was worth hearing.

You thought it would get better when you got a job. But the pressure you put on yourself to do well in school was transferred to the job you had gotten. You still were afraid that people saw yourself as your mom used to and that you would never be good enough for anyone. You thought that achievements would make you feel fulfilled.

But if you didn’t believe in yourself, what were a few “job well done's” supposed to do?

It made it hard to get into a relationship. People say that “you have to love yourself before you can love someone else,” but that didn’t feel so true to you. It was more that you didn’t trust yourself to love someone else. You worried about hurting whoever you were with, and you told yourself that if you didn’t get close to anyone, you couldn’t hurt them.

But then you ran into him.

He was on a morning run and you were walking home from a night shift, both too tired to see each other coming. You because you had just finished a shift, him because he was running off the nightmare he had had the night previous. Both of you craving a sleep that seemed just out of reach.

You were very apologetic, as was he, both afraid that you had hurt the other. You avoided his eyes even though they were trained anywhere but your own, as he fiddled with his gloved hands and you scratched the back of your neck.

It was the first time either of you had seen someone as unsure as yourselves

You had parted ways with only each other's names. Bucky and y/n.

The two of you crossed paths a few times in the following weeks, eventually getting each other’s phone numbers and agreeing to meet for coffee rather than hoping the other left at the right time. Eventually, the subtle nervous tics each of you had died down as you got to know each other.

For the most part.

You still overly apologized for everything. If you were a few minutes late, if you spaced out...you took the blame for everything.

Traffic had been bad, a storm and an accident causing you to be 5 minutes late rather than 15 minutes early. You had run into the coffee shop, scanning the restaurant with wide eyes when you saw Bucky sitting there casually.

“I am so so so sorry, I should’ve left earlier, there was an accident, I’m so sorry I’m late -”

“Y/n, don’t worry about it,” he had said, a smile on his face and a slight flash of concern on his face. “Seriously, it’s a couple of minutes. It’s literally fine.”

“No, I’m really sorry, I should’ve known or called or something.”

“Relax. It’s totally fine, I promise,” he had said, concern a little more present on his face. “Are you okay though?”

“What? Yeah, I’m good. How have you been with everything?

You wouldn’t let him talk about you. The same way your mother never let you talk about yourself.

Don’t think about her.

He had started opening up to you but you still kept your personal life under lock and key. Your name, how work was, and your physical well-being was about as personal as you got. Even so, if work had been a shit show or you had to pull an all-nighter would go unspoken. He didn’t need the burden of your personal issues. Not when there was nothing he could do about it.

The past was the past, you just had to learn how to get over yourself.

You couldn’t change what your mother had said over a decade ago.

You worried if you talked about yourself at all then you would be making the situation about you. You worried you would project your anger or sadness onto him. He didn’t deserve that. Plus, it wasn’t like he would be able to do anything, right?

You promised yourself you wouldn’t let him get too close. That if he didn’t get close to you, you couldn’t hurt him.

But damn, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t start developing feelings for him. And from the way he had started acting, you thought maybe he was too.

The hugs that were ever so slightly too tight or when he smiled at you a little longer than normal. He had opened up to you about many things in his past, and from the way he talked about it, you could tell he hadn’t talked about it much with anyone else.

You found comfort in your friendship, the way he trusted you. You liked being there for him, and you were honored that he trusted you enough to open up to you. Yet it also made you uneasy that you would ruin it in some way or drive him out.

The same way your mom drove out your father.

Goddamn it don’t think about her.

The closer you got and the closer you and Bucky had gotten, the more nervous you were. That you would turn out like your mother. You were having a harder time keeping to yourself, keeping up the façade that everything was all bright in your world. You wanted to be a light for everyone.

But at some point, days turn to nights and the light gives way to the darkness.

And you weren’t sure how much time you had left before you cracked.

Bucky had started making small moves towards you, and you were trying your best to deflect them in efforts to not fall flat on your face for him. He came over Wednesday nights for a movie and take out with you, and what started as being on two opposite ends of the couch had moved to being next to each other to him having his arm wrapped around you. Sometimes you felt he was a little too close and you would either shift away or get up to grab another drink or ‘use the bathroom’.

When you came back you would make an attempt to sit a bit further away.

Sometimes when Bucky would say goodbye at the end of the night he would hug you. That was nothing new, you were both big on hugs, but lately, he had been hugging you longer or tighter, lingering a few moments longer than could be platonic. You had started ending the hugs earlier, giving him a small squeeze before pulling away.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with Bucky. It was that you were so scared that you would drive him away, leaving you as soon as you had started calling yourself his.

Which is what brought you here. Bucky had come over for another one of your movie nights and had his arm behind the couch rather than around you. An invitation for you to curl into his side, but he wanted you to make that choice. Eventually, you had found yourself curled up with him, his arm wrapped around you, and you could feel the tension.

You wanted to move away before you found yourself in too deep, but you couldn’t resist. It had been a long day and you found comfort with Bucky. Bucky turned his face slightly towards yours, kissing the side of your temple and you felt butterflies in your stomach. Your mind told you to shift away, to not let him get too close, but you found yourself turning your head towards Bucky and he leaned forward to kiss you gently.

After a moment you broke away, emotion taking over you. “I’m sorry, Bucky, I - I can’t do this,” you said, resting your forehead against his.

“Why not?” Bucky whispered, looking into your eyes.

Because I’ll hurt you.

I’ll disappoint you.

I’ll drive you away and I can’t lose the best thing that’s happened to me.

You sighed, standing up and moving away from Bucky. You couldn’t say those things to him out loud. Not without the entire story. And you weren’t ready to share all of that with him.

Bucky stood up with you, afraid he had just ruined the friendship or whatever relationship he had with you. “Y/n, wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You had already left the room and couldn’t really hear him over the sound of your thoughts.

This wasn’t supposed to happen

I wasn’t supposed to let this happen

How could I be so stupid?

You were feeling tears in your eyes and Bucky followed you, afraid of what he did. Your breathing was picking up and you had started mumbling some of these things to yourself.

“Y/n, what’s happening, what did I do?”

You shook your head “You didn’t do anything, but I need you to leave, please,” you said, trying to hide your emotions. You hated being like this.

“I’m not going anywhere y/n, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Get the fuck out of here Bucky! I don’t want your help!” you snapped suddenly, Bucky looking taken aback before your eyes widened.

“Oh god…”

You shook your head and started crying harder, stumbling over your words. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that, I didn’t mean to yell, I’m so sorry Bucky please don’t leave I'm so sorry.”

Bucky came forward and hugged you gently and you cried into his shirt. He whispered comforting words into your ear as you tried to breathe, embarrassed at how vulnerable you were being.

Bucky kept his breathing slow and even, trying to get you to match him. He had no idea what was happening but he knew he needed you to calm down before he asked. Whatever it was had to be something deep, and you weren’t in the space to talk about it right now.

He brought you over to sit on the corner of your bed, still hugging you as you cried. You were mumbling out apology after apology but Bucky wasn’t having any of it. He kept hugging you, telling you that he wasn’t going anywhere and that you were safe. He had never seen you so upset, or upset at all to begin with.

After you had calmed down a bit, Bucky asked you again what had happened. You shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“I’ve opened up about so many things to you, right?” he pulled back to look at you.

You nodded slightly.

“And you’ve never judged me for any of it.”

You shook your head this time.

“Then why can’t you let me do the same for you?”

You took a deep breath, fiddling with your hands. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

Bucky drew his eyebrows together, still confused. “Y/n, you’ve been the nicest person I’ve ever met. How would you hurt me?”

You were already shaking your head. “No, see, that’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna be nice and sweet and...and I’m gonna fall in love with you, and you’re gonna fall in love with me. A-and then I’m gonna let you down over and over again and snap at you for things that aren’t your fault and...and you’ll get sick of it and leave and I’m going to hate myself for it, okay?”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Bucky held your shoulders as they started shaking. You brought a hand to cover your mouth, Bucky hushing you again. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

You took a shaky breath as you ran a hand over your face. “I’m just like her, Bucky. I told myself I would never let myself be like her…”

“Like who?” Bucky asked, blood already boiling at who made you feel like this.

Her.

You weren’t supposed to think about her.

You promised yourself.

“Y/n, stay with me here,” he said, guiding your face back to look at him. “Who?”

“My mother.”

Bucky looked at you for a moment. “What?”

“You know, mothers bring you into the world. They say a mother knows when something is wrong with their kid, that babies are put on their mother’s chest because the skin-to-skin contact starts the bonding process. They’re supposed to protect you, and love you, and take care of you. But then you start to get older and it’s your fault that you were born when you didn’t ask, or your dad left and it’s your fault before you even knew he was gone. All I wanted was to be told what to do and all she would do is tell me what I did wrong. I can’t be like her and the older I get the more scared I am that I’m going to hurt everyone the way that she hurt my father and me.”

You had started crying again as Bucky looked at you, both broken-hearted and furious that someone would make you feel this way. Not to mention it was your own mother.

You took another shaky breath. “I thought the world of her when I was younger. And she barely even gave me the time of day. I keep telling myself that I’m not what she thought of me, but what if I am?” you shook your head again. “And I am so scared that I’m just like her.”

“Y/n, look at me, I need you to look at me when I say this, okay?” he cupped your face with both hands, wiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as he looked into your eyes. “You are nothing like your mother.”

You let out a small sob. “You don’t know her.”

“I don’t need to,” he said firmly. “You are kind and gentle. You work hard and you make sure that everyone is taken care of before you even consider yourself. You aren’t going to scare me away or hurt me.” He wiped fresh tears from your eyes. “You are your own person, your mother has no say in who you get to be. Who you are. You are not your mother, and you never will be.” he said, still holding your gaze.

You held his gaze a little longer, knowing he believed what he was saying. You didn’t, not quite yet, but maybe if he believed in you, you could too. You nodded slightly, giving him the smallest of smiles. “Thank you.”

Bucky returned the small smile. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too,” you said, smiling.

You meant it, and you knew he did too. And maybe one day, you would love who you’d become too.

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

tags: @babydaddy-buckybarnes @buckys-blue-eyes @buckys2thicc @broadwaybabe18 @peggycarter-steverogers @im-sick-of-failing @barnesplums @bucks-bunny @mardema @abitgryffindorky @freigeistundanderes @thatfangirl42 @strawberrimae @sup--ernova

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[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

All You Can Eat (3)

Summary: A Siren and a Vampire go on a romantic date to celebrate a birthday.

Pairings: Vampire!Ari Levinson x Siren!Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY SMUT CONTENT AHEAD. use of vampire compulsion and siren songs to abduct and manipulate humans, the implied murder of humans, teensy bit of unprotected public sex and exhibitionism, a sprinkling of angst but mostly very sweet fluff

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: I just had a birthday so...

I do not consent to having any of my fics copied, stolen, reposted, or translated. Tumblr is the only site I post. If you find any of my work anywhere else, please report it.

dark!Reader Collection | Full Masterlist

Your first date with Ari was quickly followed up with another. Then another. And another. It wasn’t long before you both naturally just fell into a relationship. The sex was hot, the best either of you have had in your long lives and you were surprised at how much you enjoyed hunting in tandem with him. Feeding on humans had become more of a boring necessity, but being with each other had brought that thrill back.

More than anything else, you genuinely liked each other. You wanted each other’s company. You would argue that you were just like any other couple really. Just like any other couple, you had your eccentricities. Morning coffee runs after a night of debauchery and cuddling was a little different when you both tried to see who could bite a human without getting noticed. Dinner dates often end with a pretty waitress in a to go box. You even exercised together and by that you mean you liked to chase humans who were camping through the woods.

You celebrated milestones together just like any other couple. Birthdays lose their meaning after a few centuries especially for immortal beings like you and Ari. Having lived for millenia now, this was more a silly indulgence than anything else but still you were fuming because he was late.

You tapped your fingers on the table impatiently as you sipped what was your third glass of wine now, leaning back on your seat and huffing as you fiddled with the high slit of your long black dress. The shameless staring of the patrons and staff at your unnatural beauty would have amused you to no end, but the disappointment and anger weighing on your heart kept all your attention.

Ari was the one who had insisted on celebrating your birthday, booking the best table in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city and telling you to dress up. You had been so excited as you dolled up and giddily made your way to the restaurant, so looking forward to a special night with him. His last text came right before you were supposed to meet, just saying that he was on his way.

Has he grown bored of you?

He could have at least told you. You would have understood, after all immortals were such fickle creatures. You sighed heavily, pulling out a few bills from your purse to pay for the wine as the anger was pushed aside by a wrenching sadness. You were surprised at how sorrowful you actually felt. You were surprised at how much you didn’t want things with Ari to end.

You raised your hand to call the attention of the waiter, but before you could a familiar cold touch clasped around it and pulled it down. Ari knelt in front of you with no care in the world that he was wrinkling his expensive suit, a deeply regretful expression on his face as he kissed your palm. You wanted to be angry. You wanted so much to lash out at him and tell him all the harsh things you had thought of before he arrived, but all you could muster was a miserable mumble.

“You’re late.”

“I know, sweetheart. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to be late,” he said, taking your other hand and pressing kisses to it too as his blue eyes implore you. “Please forgive me.”

“Why?” you asked and his heart broke at the sight of your bottom lip wobbling. He wanted to burn himself alive for causing the tears to edge your beautiful eyes, for making you feel unsure of him, for making you wait, and for letting you think he would hurt you.

“Your present arrived late and I had to sign for it. I had it especially made just for you.”

You didn’t notice the long flat box he had beside him until he presented it to you like an offering, a small hopeful smile on his face. You frowned as you took the box, gently placing it on your lap and opening it to reveal contents that made you gasp. With just one look you knew exactly what it was and the feel of it as you gingerly pulled it out of the box confirmed it.

Silk ties.

But they were no ordinary silk ties.

“Handwoven by the followers of Athena, goddess of weaving,” he said, his smile brighter now at seeing your appreciation for his gift. “I wanted to get you something special for your birthday.”

“Ari, they’re beautiful,” you breathed, twisting the ties and watching in wonder as they caught the soft light. “Thank you.”

He stood up just enough to pull your face with both hands to kiss you, long and filled with emotion. He pulled away to stare at you, his thumbs rubbing back and forth on your cheeks. He was relieved that he had somehow taken the sadness away from your eyes, but he still had some making up to do.

“I actually got you three pairs,” he smiled mischievously at your confused expression. There was only one pair in the box. “I had to use the other two for your other present.”

You instantly perked up, eyes wide and eager. “Another present?”

“I got you that barista you said you liked,” he nodded. “The one you said couldn’t make a decent cup of coffee to save his life but it was a good thing he was really cute. He’s tied to the bed in the guest room for you.”

“You didn’t just compel him to stay and wait?”

He kissed the tip of your nose and grinned knowingly at you as he shook his head. “I know how much you like to see them struggle and compel them yourself.”

You practically melted into your seat. This man who mere minutes ago you thought had grown tired of you, had discarded you, had hurt you was actually going out of his way to make your birthday the best that it could be for you. Birthdays hardly ever mattered to you both, but now suddenly it did. He was so thoughtful and so romantic that you couldn’t help your confession from spilling out.

“I love you.”

For a moment you were frightened, shocked that you would have blurted that out. You had only been dating a few months and for immortals that was like a mere five minutes. You were about to panic when his hands still around your face forced you to meet his gaze, tender and loving.

“I love you too,” he said firmly, assuring you with a gentle smile that all of him was yours. In his entirety and for however long you wanted. He was yours. He gave you one last peck on the lips before he took the seat across from you.

“I already ordered some steaks when I arrived, served rare of course, and a pasta in red sauce that I know you would enjoy. Is there anything else you want for your birthday meal? You can have anything you want, sweetheart.”

You looked at him and you couldn’t believe your luck. Multiple lives lived and endless lists of lovers, but it was only now that you truly felt you were living. All because of this sweet beefcake of a gentleman sitting in front of you and suddenly a different kind of hunger rose in you.

He was alerted when you rose from your seat, but the sly smirk on your lips made him chuckle. He knew exactly what that look meant. He leaned back on his chair and watched as you approached, sitting on the table and pulling your skirt aside to reveal to him your black lacy garter belt and nothing else. He groaned at the sight of your bare cunt, already glistening and calling for him.

“The only other thing I want is your cock.”

His amused chuckle as his large hands groped at your thighs drowned out the horrified whispering of the patrons at such a lewd display. He stood up and loosened his trousers, his cock emerging angry and already leaking. You licked your lips as he lined himself up, moaning shamelessly as he entered you inch by delicious inch. He bottomed out with a loud groan, stretching you just the way you liked it. He smirked at you, his body tense and poised to pound into you in a room full of appalled humans.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

[goodieghostyarchive]

Sweet memories

He took a deep breath as he approached the onyx temple.

No matter what god favored your citty you had shrines to all major gods and a few minor gods if you wanted to cover certain bases.

This one though... This one was crucial in every city. Some of the rich villa folk even had their own shrines to appease him even if they worshiped a different god. Just in case theirs did something to upset Him.

He knew most soldiers prayed before battle to ward off their fears and insite that of their enemies. He needed more help than most.

He crossed the treshhold and felt the weight of the darkness press upon him. Dark fabrics covered the walls, only the light of his torch allowed him to see the lavish carvings in the walls.

Depicted reminders of what could befall those who angered him. And there, at the altar, a depiction of the lord of shadows.

It was masterful craftmanship. Ivory skin contrasting against pitchblack eyes, hair and armor that exuded darkness.

Everything within him begged to run. But he had to push forward. If he couldn't do this, he could not hope to survive in battle.

He set down his torch and began the prayer his parents taught him.

Asking to lift his fears and instead have it chain down his enemies... But that felt stupid. The enemies were no doubt asking for the same thing. This way everyone would just get stuck with someone else's fears and no one got anywhere even if he heeded every prayer. He didn't need to get rid of his fear he...

"I want to harness my fear so it may be my strenght," he realized.

"Now, that, sounds interesting," a voice echoed through the space just as his torch got snuffed out, plunging him in total darnkess.

He jumped to his feet, reaching for his sword.

"Oh that's cute. But understandable." His torch came to life and on the alter now sat a man. Raven hair peaked from under his hood which cast a shadow over his face only revealing faint purple light where eyes reflected his torchlight. He could just barely see the lower half of his face. Just enough to make out the suple lips tipped in a little smirk.

He was dressed in dark robes of a material that no mortal hands would be able to make. More suple than the finest silk. Almost like it was woven from the shadows. His frame slender but strong.

He was sitting on the alter with one hand resting on his knee, his other suporting his weight. His other leg was bare as it was swinging carelessly over the edge.

It would be provocative if it wasn't so terifying...

No, no it was still attractive. Very much so.

"I'd grab something to protect myself too if i were mortal and got the attention of the terror of the skies," he teased playfully.

His voice left him. He was here. Really here. He'd heard of Gods answering prayers directly. But mostly through disguises and dreams... Not... Not so openly...

"Virgil... God of Darkness, master of fears, shepherd of nightmares..." he greeted.

The man chuckled, a low rumbling sound that stole his breath away.

"Wow, full title huh? And what might your name be? Mortal with the sword?" he wondered.

That was when he remembered that he was very pointlessly aiming his sword at a being older than time.

He sheethed it. "Apologies my liege. I am Orpheus," he bowed respectfully, still a bit in shock.

"Darkness of night? Oh, oh i like that. It's like you were born to be mine," the god said, sounding amused.

Orpheus' heart skipped a beat. Unsure how to respond.

"Hmmmm," the god mused taking in a deep breath as if smelling the air. "You're tasty too," he said.

"E- excuse me?" he stammered, completely taken of guard.

"You're fear mortal. I can taste it in the air. Normally I have to touch people to really feed off it unless there is a lot of people who are very scared. Natural disasters, wars. It's not very becomming but a god's gotta eat. In a sense." The god explained.

"Now," he said as his hands reached up to his hood and lowered it to reveal the most handsome face Orpheus had ever laid eyes on.

"Let's talk about harnassing that fear of yours shall we?"

Virgil was... Well he was something else. If Orpheus didn't look at him directly he could almost pretend they were both mortal and he was just a snarky friend. Almost.

He was surprisingly laid back for a god everyone feared above all others.

"So the first thing you gotta get out of your head is that fear is a bad thing. You can't harness it if you want to be rid of it. Fear keeps people from doing dumb things for no good reason. Like set themselves on fire or whatever. Got it?"

Orpheus nodded. "It makes us consider before we act rashly... Sometimes," he added that last part thinking of his friend Damocles. He was... He was fun and all and the most loyal friend you could ask for. But Orpheus needed to get him out of trouble all the time.

"Excelent! You're kinda smart too. Guess there is hope for you humans after all," Virgil grinned.

They were sitting on a hillside overlooking the citty. Or it would overlook the citty in the day. It was night now and Orpheus couldn't see much. He could see Virgil sitting next to him in the light of his torch though.

"You gotta aknowledge it and respect that your brain is trying to warn you that this might be a dumb idea. Like when you came to me. You thought that it might backfire horribly. But you felt that it was your only option so you pushed forward anyway. Cause you are a brave idiot."

That took Orpheus by complete surprise.

"Me? You think I'm brave?" A god... The god of fear just called him brave? Maybe he'd tripped and fell and hit his head?

He must be at the infermary having some kind of dream right now.

"And an idiot. Of course you are brave. You can't be brave without being afraid. The more scared you are the more courage it takes to do the thing that frightens you.

Fear distinguishes an act of bravery from an act of stupidity. Now just because you are afraid does not exempt you from being stupid. It's about the intent. Is this all to prove yourself? Stupid. Someone else's opinion is not worth messing with any god for. Especially me. If I weren't so darn nice, you'd be in big trouble for pointing that sword at me." The teasing smirk and the tone made it sound less like a veiled threat.

"Is it for like... Noble reasons. Protecting others. Justice... Then it's stupid and brave... Still stupid though," he clarified.

Orpheus nodded. "Fear doesn't make me a coward. How i respond to it decides if i'm a hero," he whispered.

Virgil roled his eyes. "Humans and their hero complexes," he sighed.

"Now third. The hard part," he said as he got up and pulled Orpheus with him. The torch planted besides them casting it's glow upon them. His hands held by the god he'd somehow been having a pleasant conversation with.

Virgil looked at their linked hands for a moment before bringing them to Orpheus' heart. Gods he was so close.

"Use it. Feel it, know it, and use it as energy. Like i do. It can paralize or it can make you the fiercest warrior there ever was. Enabling you to fight harder than anyone else. Or run for your life if that's what you choose. It's your choice, Orpheus. Choose wisely every time and you'll live to be a legend. Be warned though. Legends don't live long, though they are imortal."

Orpheus could hear sadness in the God's tone.

"My liege," he said softly.

"Virgil. Call me Virgil Orpheus. If you are to be my champion. To show them what fear truly means for me. Then we can drop formalities don't you think?" he suggested.

Orpheus nodded. "Yes... Virgil. Are you okay?" he wondered.

Virgil chuckled, a sound Orpheus found most enchanting. It made him want to pick up his quil again and write paragraphs just to preserve something of it's sound for eternity. Which was idiotic because Virgil would outlive him by many many milenia.

"Yes dear Orpheus." Why did that make his heart stop. "Just remembered why I don't usually make house calls. Don't make me regret it," he warned.

Orpheus nodded. "I won't let you down," he swore.

Virgil "Good. Because these cults who think I'm cool with wanton murder and terror are giving me a bad rep. Go forth my champion, with my symbol and my wisdom. If you survive, I mgiht have more gifts for you."

And then he dissapeared. Leaving only a gorgeous gem on Orpheus' tunic. It was pitchblack but in the light of the torch, it flickered hues of purple.

This ok? Want more?

___________

@lovelivingmydreams

You've captured them perfectly and I love this so much!ahhhhhh!!

[biisexualemma]

unrequited pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.6k

warnings: anxiety, panic attack? i guess kind of

requested: yea a few people asked for this lol

plot: you haven’t seen peter for weeks and start to worry about him

a/n: i finished re-writing this late last night and i’ll be honest with you i haven’t checked it over so sorry if there are any mistakes but i’m tired sis goodnight! lmk if you like this! pls comment / share!

pt.1 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

"ned... you're so wrong for so many reasons," m.j.'s expression was flat, her eyes rolling before she continued to fight ned on who was really the strongest avenger. you were supposed to be working on a group project for your history class but somehow the topic of the avengers came up and the conversation derailed. ned was making a, somewhat, compelling case for the hulk but m.j. was clearly winning with her argument for wanda.

"nobody even knows the full extent of her powers... and the hulk? what? he's gonna smash some more?"

you sat quietly, chin in the palm of your hand, listening in and out of the conversation. you didn't really feel much like contributing. you would occasionally chime in to support m.j. but mostly you just heard the noise of their bickering and let it happen.

you didn't want to be that person, but your mind was (much to your frustration) completely consumed with thoughts of peter. and at the worst time, you had so many tests coming up, and essay deadlines were also creeping up on you. usually you were on top of this stuff, but your mind was preoccupied almost all the time.

because of peter, who was no where to be seen. in the past few weeks he had stopped showing up to school all together. ned said it was something to do with tony stark but you had a feeling it was more than that. you didn't know how to explain it.

you hadn't spoken to him in a long time now, and you didn't exactly leave things on good terms. it was the longest you'd gone without talking since peter called you a poopy head in the third grade.

you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. especially since you had no idea what he was getting up to, peter was known to get himself into some messes when he was left to his own devices. and you just knew ned was lying to cover for his best friend but that only made you feel even more out of the loop.

everything felt a bit off without peter around, like something was missing. that, on top of the guilt and worry you were feeling, was turning your head to mush. last time you'd spoken to peter, he was erratic and wounded and desperate. something bad had to have happened for him to be gone this long.

the bell rang, signalling the end of your last period for the day, and the rest of the week seeing as it was a friday. you snapped out of your daze, jolting as your eyes focused back on your surroundings.

"what time did you say again, y/n?" your eyes drifted to m.j. who was collecting her notes on her desk, her eyes meetings yours, waiting for your answer. a crease formed between your eyebrows, you hadn't heard a word of the conversation before right now. m.j. seemed to realise this, rolling her eyes at you with a playful smile. you did this a lot lately, she was getting used to it. "homecoming? what time did you want to meet tonight?"

"oh," you nodded, still sitting at your desk as your classmates hustled around you. "right, homecoming— i— uh—"

"tell me you're still coming," ned interrupted, his eyes wide suddenly, clearly desperate that your answer was anything but no. "c'mon we've had this planned for ages!"

"no— yeah— of course i am," you nodded quickly to reassure him. "yeah— sorry— i just spaced. is seven good for you guys?"

they hummed in response, nodding.

you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, still in a slight haze with all these thoughts running through your head about peter. you couldn't think about homecoming, it seemed trivial now compared to the worst case scenarios running through your mind. maybe you could try to call peter again? you thought to yourself as you quickly left the classroom, forgetting about m.j. and ned and homecoming, your muscle memory alone leading you to your locker.

you swapped out your books from your bag with the ones you needed to study from for your biology test next week. after slamming the locker door shut, a familiar face was met with yours.

"jesus," you muttered as he stood inches away from your face, your heart racing from the shock. clutching your books to your chest, after nearly having a heart attack, you let out a loud sigh and furrowed your eyebrows. "peter? where the hell have you been?" you regained some of your composure, enough to find some anger in you towards him. he was the last person you were expecting to see today.

"you're ok?" his usual soft brown eyes looked sunken and tired, his hair was scruffier than usual and his lips chapped as they hung open, his eyes scanning over you.

your mouth hung open to speak but he just shook his head as if answering his own question. he gripped your forearm, urging you to walk with him. you dug in your heels, yanking your arm back, wanting him to slow down and explain before you went anywhere with him. "will you just walk," he muttered sharply when you tried to resist him. "please," he softened quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

you frowned, uncomfortably shifting the stack of books in your arms as peter pulled you along behind him hastily. you watched his eyes shifting about the hallway as students weaved around the two of you, his grip not loosening for a second. he was definitely up to something stupid and dangerous that he absolutely should not be involved in.

he'd dragged you all the way out into the parking lot, pulling you aside and away from the crowd of people.

"what's going on? why do you look like— i mean no offence but— you look like crap," you couldn't help but show some level of concern. no matter how complicated your feelings were for him at the moment, he was still your best friend, and he looked like hell. you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him.

"i need you to just— stop talking and listen to me," the look in his eyes made your heart beat a bit faster, your eyes darting between his trying to understand his urgency. "you're not safe—"

"no— i'm fine—" you were never very good at doing what you were told. you glanced down at yourself, perfectly safe and standing in front of him. "see?—"

"no— no you're not," he gulped, his eyes darting away from yours for a split second. "i'm taking you home and you have to stay there. ok? please."

his voice was horse, cracking when he spoke. you didn't understand any of it. peter was the friendly neighbourhood spider-man, what the hell had he gotten himself into that had him this worked up?

you tilted your head slightly, he couldn't think you'd blindly do whatever he said. you needed some answers. "pete," you mumbled, shaking your head with a faint frown. "can't you just tell me what's going on? you're kinda' scaring me."

"i screwed up," his face contorted, his eyes screwing shut for a second and his nose scrunching. you were glued to him, following his mixed expressions trying to understand what was going through his head. he took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "and i know you— you hate me and the last thing you wanna' do is listen to me but i need you to do this for me."

"alright," you said after a moments hesitation. you just wanted him to relax. all your pent up anger and hurt that you'd felt over peter had dissipated quite quickly. you were too occupied with trying to ease some of his stress, and if that meant becoming a homebody for a few days, you would do it. "alright— don't worry. i've been putting off my english essay for a week now anyway, it's about time i cracked down on it."

you tried to ease the tension, act like he wasn't asking much of you. he let out a heavy sigh, looking over at you with those brown eyes. "it's homecoming tonight, i know w—"

"is it?" you feigned forgetfulness, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. you shrugged. "i was never one for socialising anyway."

peter knew you better than that. he knew what he was asking you to give up. "i'm sorry," he took a step closer to you, his hands hovering in front of you, unsure that you wanted him to touch you. "i'm sorry you got dragged into this."

your eyes lingered on his hands before you pulled back up to his stare. you pursed your lips and shrugged. "i'd feel better about it if i knew what i was getting dragged into," you pulled away from your conversation for a second to slip your books into your bag. "walk me home and you can explain everything."

and he did. he told you all about the vulture, the weapons, what really happened during the decathlon trip. all of it. right up to when the vulture figured out his identity— which lead to him finding out about aunt may, about his friends, and about you. he told you about how he'd spent the past few weeks figuring out where the vulture's next major deal was being held, how he'd messed up so bad and how mr stark had taken his suit.

by the time he'd finished, your mouth hung open slightly. you didn't know how he'd been dealing with all of this by himself. spider-man helped old ladies cross the street and returned stolen bicycles, he didn't fight men in bird costumes to stop illegal sales of dangerous advanced weapon tech.

"peter, this sounds pretty dangerous," you spoke up after he told you about his plan to intercept the vulture's airplane heist. "don't you think you should just call happy? or tony? this sounds like iron man territory."

"i can't do that," he sighed. "besides, i already tried happy— he's not taking my calls right now. something about a time out."

you let out a heavy sigh, having taken everything in that he'd told you. you had reached your door, peter standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. you motioned for him to come in but he hesitated, opening his mouth to decline. "c'mon," you grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "this heist isn't happening 'til late tonight. you can keep me company 'til then."

"maybe, get some rest, too, you really do look like hell," he let you pull him inside, following behind you. he ignored the second dig you had now made about his appearance.

"may must've been pretty mad when she found out you'd been skipping school?" you collapsed onto your bed, crossing your legs over and watching peter perch himself on the edge of your bed. he leaned forward, his hand running over his face with sheer exhaustion.

"you have no idea," he groaned, holding his head up with the palm of his hand now. "i'm pretty much grounded for the rest of the year. and i have to send her a pic' of me sitting in every one of my classes from now on," you nodded, pursing your lips because that sounded about right. "but mainly she was worried."

"well, she wasn't the only one," he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes lingering there for a while. you breathed through your nose, looking away from him and down to your hands to give yourself a moment. you'd forgotten how difficult it was to have him look at you like that. "you just took off with no word, peter."

he turned his gaze away from you, focusing on the wall in front of him, his eyes glossy. for weeks that last conversation with you had been sitting at the back of his mind. he knew he'd handled everything in the worse possible way. he tried to protect you, hurt you by doing so, and then had everything he tried to protect you from blow up in his face anyway.

"i haven't been able to think clearly for weeks," you gulped, scared to meet his gaze again, in fear that you might lose your confidence. "i missed you. and i was worried out of my mind about you."

"y/n—" his voice was quiet.

"and i know i was the one who told you to leave. but i was hurt and sad. i'd convinced myself that you felt the same way, and when you—" you closed your eyes for a second, feeling him watching you. you hadn't been able to say any of this out loud for weeks and now it was just spilling out of you. "anyway— i shouldn't've punished you for that. they are my feelings i need to get over. it wasn't your fault and i'm sorry i made it seem like it was."

he shook his head faintly, sniffling slightly, catching your attention. "i screwed up," he shook his head a little harder, pushing himself up off your bed, his back turned to you. "i screwed up so bad," he ran his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. your eyebrows knitted. "it wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"don't," you shook your head, willing him to stop. "it's not your fault. i shouldn't have—"

he cut you off, turning to face you as he did. "i'm in love with you," his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes now stinging red. "i was in love with you then, and i'm in love with you now. i think i always will be."

your eyebrows unknitted, your mouth opening to speak but nothing came out. you watched his hand tug on the ends of his curls, his eyes locked onto you the entire time, trying to read your expression.

"i was trying to protect you and it went completely wrong—" his breathing was erratic. "i thought you'd be safer if i distanced myself—" the look on his face was breaking your heart. he knew how stupid it all sounded now he explained it out loud. "i screwed everything up— and now you're in more danger than ever— because of me."

"you— you—" your brain was trying to keep up. you shook your head. you had spent the past month telling yourself that everything you thought he'd felt for you wasn't real, that you'd over thought everything he'd ever done for you. you'd been telling yourself for a month to move on. "you didn't screw up, pete. i know you. whatever you did, you did for the right reasons."

the lump in your throat was growing as you tried to keep some kind of composure. it wouldn't do either of you any good to get upset with him when he was worked up like this. he didn't need to be told he'd made a mistake, he was already painfully aware.

"you don't— you—but— i—" he was hyperventilating, completely vulnerable as he fell apart in front of you.

"pete," you mumbled carefully, climbing over to where he was stood, hand in his hair and he pulled on the loose curls, his eyes wide with anxiety and stress. you moved your hands to his, pulling them down to his side and giving them a small squeeze. "calm down," you cooed. "everything will be ok."

you trailed your hands up to his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling him into a tight hug. you wrapped your arms 'round his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair. his head ducked, burying into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate grip. his breathing was heavy at first, uneven and jagged as he clung onto you. your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it, but you held onto him as tight as you could, pressing your whole body against his trying to offer him as much comfort as you could.

after a while of standing around, holding each other, peter's breathing began to grow softer and slower. he began to notice the sweet scent lingering on your skin. his lips innocently hovering over the curve of your neck, breath fanning against your skin. you could feel goosebumps growing on your skin, the hair of your arms standing on end.

"better?" you mumbled softly. he gave you a faint nod in response, his lips leaving your skin as he pulled himself back from you. your hand slipped from in between his curls and down to the neck, your thumb brushing over his skin as he looked straight into your eyes. you gulped, eyelids fluttering.

he was a state to behold. his nose was pink, under eyes wet, your eyes trailed down to where his lips parted. he hiccuped a breath. you tried to push away the impulse to kiss him because he was clearly vulnerable. you didn't want him to later regret anything. "thanks," he mumbled breathlessly. "i don't know what happened there."

you pouted your lips, about to reply when peters eyes fluttered down your face, catching you off guard. his eyes lingered and you noticed his head tilting down and nearer, his lips catching onto yours before you could register what was happening. it was soft, gentle and didn't last longer than a couple seconds before you had to force yourself to pull away.

"peter— you're overwhelmed right now so maybe we shouldn—"

your whispers against his lips where cut short, he pressed his lips to yours again. unable to resist now he'd had a taste. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest. you swallowed a gasp, feeling his full weight behind the second kiss. his lips pushed against yours a little more desperately this time, you fell back a step, peter's arms where the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

both your hands where either side of his neck, trailing up into his hair where you pulled softly at the roots of his messy curls. he let out a soft moan against your lips, and you stumbled back once more, your thighs hitting your bed.

your hands quickly slipped down to his chest as you gently pried him off you. your head was spinning a little, his lips were plump and pink and the way he looked at you, with pure love and obsession, made you want to kiss him again and again.

"did you mean it?" you muttered breathlessly.

his eyes trailed back up from your lips, his gaze locking with yours again. he noticed the vulnerability and fear in your eyes now that he was paying you his full attention. he felt a wave of guilt hit him, knowing he was the one that put that look there.

"yeah," he hummed. "i did," he said with his chest. "i do. always will," he was breathless.

"you're not just saying it 'cause you've missed me?"

he shook his head quickly, shutting down any traces of doubt in your mind. "i have been in love with you since that summer we took that trip to coney island when you threw up after you ate too much cotton candy."

your scrunched up your nose at the memory. "gross."

he shrugged. "i don't know what to tell you. that's just when i knew."

your lips twitched into a small smile. "you should probably get some rest," you diverted the topic, trying hard not to kiss him again. he looked so tired. he had poured out months worth of anxiety and stress all in the past ten minutes. "you can't chase bad guys if you're half asleep."

he wore a half-hearted smile, his mind clearly flickering back to the task he had to take on later tonight.

"you can crash here if you want," you motioned to your bed.

"y'sure? i don't wanna get you in trouble."

"mom's working late, so you're good. plus she loves you, pete," your hands slipped down to his, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"sure she'll still love me when she finds out about us?" he quirked an eyebrow, the small smile on his lips was sloped and tired.

"m'sure," you hummed, biting back your growing smile at the word us. you moved him to sit on your bed again, his hands lazily holding yours. his eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you, a small crease forming between his eyebrows again. you could tell his mind was wandering again. "lie down, you need to rest or you're no good to anyone."

he nodded hesitantly and followed your instruction. "i'll sleep better with you next to me."

his voice was soft after you'd turned your back on him to leave him to rest. you rolled your eyes faintly, smile tugging your lips again. "is that right?"

he hummed, his arms outstretched, waiting for you to fall into them. you dragged your feet back over to him, biting the inside of your cheek, the corner of your lip twitching upwards. "there's a scientific reason behind it but my brain's too sleepy to think right now, so you'll have to take my word for it."

his words slurred together, his eyes rolling slightly the longer he forced them open. you just nodded. "alright, spidey, just this once."

"hm," he hummed as you climbed in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and immediately pulling you against his chest. "thanks," he muttered, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "don't know what i'd do without you."

[queenshelby]

The Policeman’s Daughter – Part Two

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warning: Mention of Assault, Murder, Fluff, Mild Smut

Words: 2,345

Birmingham, 12 September 1924

It was Saturday night and seven days have passed since your encounter with Thomas Shelby and you have not heard from him. Perhaps he had changed his mind, you thought. You could understand if he did. He was probably still grieving the death of his wife or perhaps you simply weren’t a match for him.

Over the past seven days, you had learned that Thomas Shelby and his family owned most of the factories and industrial buildings in Small Heath as well as several streets of back-to-back housing.

He must have been a wealthy man with no interest in a common woman like you.

That same night, your father was away for work, investigating two recent murders in Small Heath in a pub called the Garrison and he had left you with two men who were employed by the Crown as security guards.

You felt safe with the men around the house and certainly didn’t expect an intrusion to occur on that night. But you were wrong. You weren’t safe at all. At least so it seemed as, at around 8 o’clock, you heard a knock on one of the windows behind where you were sitting, inside the reading room which was facing the forest.

Your heart began to pound as you turned around and peeked through the curtain only to find that it was Thomas.

Surprised and shocked all at the same time, you quickly opened the window while covering up your skin with a large satin robe.

‘What are you doing here?’ you asked with slight anger.

‘I said I would find you’ Tommy smirked, whispering as he did. ‘Get your coat’ he then instructed, not really giving you a choice to say no.

‘I am not leaving the house with an armed man who I barely know’ you said reluctantly and Tommy raised his eyebrows for a short moment before giving you a smile.

‘Fair enough’ Tommy said, reaching beneath his coat, taking the gun out of his holster and handing it to you.

‘Now you are an armed woman leaving with an unarmed man’ he then smirked and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You quickly got your coat and boots from the next room, not bothered by the fact that, beneath all this, you would be wearing only a thin nightgown.

Tommy then held the window open and helped you to climb outside while ensuring that you wouldn’t slip on the wet grass.

‘So where are we going?’ you asked quietly, knowing very well that you shouldn’t be going anywhere with this stranger. You didn’t know why, but for some reason, you trusted him. His deep blue eyes appeared honest and comforting in a way and your attraction towards him clearly had gotten the better of you.

‘Just follow me, eh’ Tommy said somewhat reassuringly before taking your hand.

‘My father is a policeman and will get very angry if something was to happen to me’ you said nervously, wanting to ensure your own safety.

‘A copper, eh?’ Tommy said somewhat unbothered, thinking that your father is probably one of Moss’s men and therefore on his payroll.

You simply nodded and then followed Tommy into the woods, nervously and excited all at the same time.

After about fifteen minutes, you reached a small camp near the river and Tommy was quick to introduce you to some of the men, women and children who were there.

‘I thought you might like to be with kin for a change’ Tommy said after he introduced to the Lee family.

‘Your mother used to travel with us when she was young’ a woman named Esmeralda said to you and it was obvious to you that Tommy had told her your name. It was also clear that Tommy had done his research on you before visiting you that night.

You immediately felt comfortable around the Lee Family and spent several hours at the camp, talking, drinking and eating.

Whilst you appreciated Tommy’s gesture, introducing you to the Lees after what you had told him about your life when you met at the orphanage, you also desperately wanted to be alone with him and get to know him better. He seemed to know so much about you while you knew so little about him.

Eventually, Tommy noticed that you were cold, clearly not dressed for the occasion and he finally suggested that you sit down by the fire with him.

‘Go on Tommy Boy’ Johnny Dogs shouted after you as followed Tommy to the fireplace near the river bank.

In response, Tommy swore using gypsy tongue, before telling you to ignore Johnny Dogs. According to Tommy, he hadn’t been accompanied by a woman since his wife Grace had passed away and, therefore, your presence took Johnny Dogs by surprise.

As you finally reached the fireplace and you sat down on of the blankets scattered around it, Tommy took off his coat and placed it over you in order to keep you warm.

‘Thank you’ you said shyly as his blue eyes locked with yours. ‘Now tell me Tommy, how did you know where I live?’ you asked curiously, knowing that you had never told him your address.

‘I simply asked your employer’ Tommy winked and it was when you realised that you just asked him a completely silly question. Of course, he knew your address. The charitable organisation of which he was the founder and chairman had signed your employment contract.

‘You never told me what brought you to Birmingham’ Tommy then went on to say before asking you to hand him the cigarettes from the pocket of his coat.

But, as you reached into the pocket on the right to retrieve his cigarettes, smokes weren’t all you found. In fact, the first thing you inadvertently took out was a small case containing a blue bottle of cocaine and a brown bottle of opium which, without questions, you quickly put back into their place.

‘My father’s work is what brought us here’ you eventually said as you handed Tommy his cigarettes.

‘You said he is a copper, right?’ Tommy observed before lighting himself a cigarette and you nodded before Tommy continued on.

‘What is a copper from London doing in Birmingham? It doesn’t seem like a good career move to me’ Tommy chuckled and you simply told him that he wanted a change of scenery for the both of you and an easier life.

‘Well, I am not sure if he came to the right place then, eh’ Tommy laughed.

‘Why, is there a lot of crime here?’ you then went on to ask and Tommy shook his head.

‘Just the usual brawls you can expect in a town full of working men’ Tommy chuckled before quickly changing the topic.

You then talked for at least an hour about your respective upbringings and gypsy roots and Tommy appeared genuine and kind. It was obvious to you that he felt attracted towards you and, over the hour, you moved closer and closer towards each other, sharing one cigarette after another as you talked for what felt like an eternity.

You sat so close to him that you could smell the scent of his aftershave, a hint of musk and sweetness and it was at this point that Tommy made an admission to you.

‘I have to be honest Y/N. I didn’t just bring you out here to introduce you to the Lee Family’ Tommy said, just as the moment was right.

‘So, what are your alternate motives then Mr Shelby?’ you asked shyly but with a smile.

‘This’ Tommy responded quietly while caressing your face with one of his hands before drawing your face towards his with ease and pressing his lips onto yours.

You gave into the kiss, parting your lips slightly as you did and allowing his tongue to explore your mouth.

His lips were soft and warm and you ran your hands through his hair gently as you deepened the kiss.

Tommy’s hands then moved from your face over your chest and beneath his warm coat, brushing your breasts in the process.

It was at this point you abruptly pulled away and began to breathe heavily. His hands were too close to the scar which carried all your bad memories.

‘Don’t. I am sorry’ you said, your hands shaking as you broke out in tears.

‘Hey, look at me Y/N’ Tommy said calmly, unsure why you reacted the way you did but wanting to calm you down and comfort you.

‘Whatever it is, its alight, eh’ Tommy said, his both cupping your face, making you look at him and nod.

‘I am so sorry. I just…’ you said, looking down at the fire, unable to finish your sentence as tears built up in the corners of your eyes again.

Tommy sat there patiently, telling you to breathe before wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

‘I am ashamed of my body Tommy. I just am not ready for this’ you went on to say and Tommy looked at you, his eyes full of questions.

‘Then we won’t’ Tommy said calmly, his thumb running over your cheek as he smiled at you. ‘Although, you really have no reason to be ashamed. You are beautiful’ Tommy then whispered reassuringly before giving you another quick kiss, intending to leave at this for the night.

‘Yeah, well, you say this now but that might change when you see the hideous scar covering my stomach’ you said rather upset and it was at this point that Tommy stood up, took off his suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt.

You weren’t quite sure what he was doing and you were slightly concerned about his actions when he suddenly pulled you up and reached for your hand.

‘Count them’ Tommy said as he guided your hand over his bare chest before telling you to reach behind him and run your hand over his back.

‘Six’ you said, swallowing harshly, realising that he had just a few more scars than you which evidentially all came from bullets and stabbings.

‘Seven actually’ Tommy chuckled as your hand left his chest and you took Tommy’s hand and guided it beneath your nightgown and right over your scar.

Your scar was large, covering the right side of your abdomen. But Tommy didn’t seem bothered and simply kissed you again, as passionately as he could and you would allow him.  

‘Who did this to you?’ Tommy then asked as your lips drifted apart and it was at this point that you broke down, confiding him about what had happened to you.

You never confided in anyone before and the truth was, you didn’t know why you told Tommy that night. But you felt that it was the right thing to do.

Shortly thereafter, Tommy walked you back home and, just as you reached the house and sneaked past the security guards which, quite evidentially didn’t do their job, Tommy kissed you again, gently but yet passionately.

‘Can I see you again?’ he then asked and you nodded shyly.

‘I didn’t think you would want to after tonight’ you said somewhat embarrassed about how things had ended.

‘You have no idea, do you?’ Tommy chuckled just as one of the security guards came walking around the house.

Without his coat and gun, Tommy kissed you goodbye in a rush before disappearing into the night, ensuring that he wouldn’t get caught.

‘Everything alright Miss?’ one of the guards asked, curious as to what the noises were which he had heard.

‘Yes, just two rabbits out and about. So cute’ you said as you stuffed Tommy’s coat and gun beneath the blanket on the sofa while looking out of the window.

‘Rabbits?’ the guard asked.

‘Yes, the small animals with the big ears and the fluffy tail’ you said.

Birmingham, 17 September 1924

Following your evening at the river with Tommy, you hadn’t heard from him for days and thought again that, perhaps, he had changed his mind.

But he didn’t and, on the morning of the 17th of September, you received a telegram, delivered to your house along with the daily newspaper your father had ordered.

With a cup of coffee, you sat down in the reading room, opening the telegram.

****

‘Y/N,

I ensured that this telegram would only reach you in your father’s absence.

Meet me tonight, at 8 o’clock. Your father will be busy and security will be taken care of. I will be waiting for you outside the gate of your property’

Tommy’

****

After you read the telegram, you couldn’t help but smile while a feeling of warmth and butterflies rushed through your body.

Nonetheless, you were surprised by his influence. How did he know that your father would be busy and how would he take care of security, you wondered?

But those thoughts soon left your mind when you opened the newspaper and read the headlines.

****

Judge dead in house explosion

Judge Kent has died along with his 24-year-old son in what appeared to have been a house explosion caused by two hand grenades.

Mysteriously, their death occurred just an hour before two killings in a London Nightclub in which another two men had been shot. This also appeared to be a targeted attack.

The two men identified as Jonathan Cohen and Lucas Cohen, friends and acquaintances of the Judge’s Kent’s son who, several years ago, escaped charges for assault.

Whether the murders are linked is yet to be determined and no arrests were made.

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[themanip]

late nights

SUMMARY — you and bang chan are both equally as stressed out. your solution?  sleep with each other. boom, problem solved.

PAIRING — bang chan  x  reader  WARNINGS — mentions of stress and mental health problems, unprotected sex, soft!dom chan, mentions of kinks, really soft, really cute smut basically, crying (not sexually), sad thoughts, angry and frustrated emotions, angsty GENRE — heavy angst, fwb, coming-of-age kind of, smut, romance, porn with a hint of plot WORD COUNT — 4.9k, i got carried away my bad

“How do you deal with stress?”

Chan’s question wasn’t ill intentioned by any means, and as you both sat in his studio, you pondered on whether or not to actually answer truthfully. “I mean, you’re the leader of two more trainees than I was, and navigating as a girlgroup is much more difficult than boygroups,”

“Do you want the honest answer, or the more appropriate answer?” you crossed your legs, Chan’s couch feeling quite comfortable. He stared down at you for a moment, the height of his chair offering him that leverage.

The room was quiet, the lights were dim, and the entire environment was soothing. “Well, honest, of course. No point in me asking if it’s a fib, no?”

You nodded, blowing a puff of air out of your nose thoughtfully. “Truthfully, I use sex. It allows me to physically and mentally drain myself, and I sleep really well after getting fucked. It allows me to refresh the next morning, and my stress, at least physically, is diminished.”

You didn’t look at him until you finished talking, and his face was blank. Once you two locked eyes, he sputtered out, “Oh, I—”

“This is why I offered two options, Chan,” you laughed, and at the lighten of atmosphere he giggled a bit too. “I didn’t mean to, y’know,” he stopped, and you nodded lightly. “I get it, but as of now I don’t do it much anymore. I usually just let out my anger or stress during dance routines or working out but it doesn’t work the same, and sometimes I deliver moves too harshly while dancing.”

“Why not?”

You were unsure what he was referring to, and you crinkled your eyebrows. “How come you don’t do it anymore if nothing else helps the same way?” he asked softly, his eyes swimming with genuine concern. 

“I’m a lot more conservative with my body, I just have to trust someone. It’s hard to get to know a guy without them immediately wanting to jump into a relationship. You can’t really do that in what we do, and the second I start to trust a guy things go haywire. I just really have to have a good friendship to have sex, I guess.”

The entirety of the conversation, Chan’s cheeks were turning peach. Even in the dark, dim light, you could see it. “I understand, it’s a very tangible thing. Just giving yourself to someone like that without a basic relationship, platonic or not, is important depending on how you view relationships,”

You nodded in response, and a silence fell over you two. There wasn’t much to be said, but for some reason you decided to blurt out. “If you don’t know how to deplete stress, I suggest it. Just the no strings attached part, because otherwise things get messy and stress becomes inevitable. Just try it sometime, Chan. If you don’t like it, then consider it a learning experience,” you shrugged, and Chan pursed his lips.

“I mean it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, per se. I just don’t know how I’ll casually ask someone to have sex. Most women just run off the moment I mention it, and who knows if they’re even into the same things I am? There’s just so many things to be unsure of.” His chin was now laying on his thumb, and his pointer finger was laying above his top lip. He was deep in thought. 

You stood up, which cause Chan to unexpectedly flinch, and he watched you with careful eyes. “Chris, if you ever feel like you need a de-stresser, you know where to find me. Nothing will be weird unless you make it weird. Or we can always just talk, either way, I’m here. I have to go before Sumna comes and drags me out of here, but seriously. Whatever you need, no strings attached. Nothing leaves this room,” you mentioned softly, and his eyes widened at his English name. It’s rather rare you used it, so he pondered the specific use of it in this scenario.

“Thank you,” he muttered simply, and he watched you as you walked out. Was she being serious?

Chan and you had not talked in a few days. Whether it was a crazy schedule, you embarassing yourself, or him not knowing how to approach the situation, you didn’t know. All you did know was that you missed your friend. 

You and your bandmates had a hectic schedule today, and as the leader, you’d had to sit in on a meeting with your manager and JYP’s public relations manager. Apparently, Dispatch had caught one of your members, Lanzi, out doing something with another k-pop idol. Dispatch had only obtained two pictures of it, but it was clearly legible on who they were, and what they were doing.

The cost to get those pictures thrown out was much more than JYP would have liked, so she had to sit and get chewed out. Instead of being angry at Lanzi, she became more angry at herself. She had talked to them about things of this sort, but clearly not well enough. It was her job as leader, and she failed doing so. 

After a three hour long meeting, you were absolutely exhausted, mentally at least. And now, just after that, was choreography practice. You’d just learned the choreo a few days before, so for the most part you had it down. As lead dancer, you also had to make sure everyone else in your group understood that too. 

So, thirty minutes into practice, when none of your members seemed to be latching on, you sighed. Your entire job was to simply lead, and do well. Somehow, you couldn’t manage to do that. Once more, you started the choreography, and told your girls to simply stand back and watch.

You had a slight tone, but you needed them to understand that rhythm is just as important as the real dance moves. Your entire body was covered in sweat, and you were growing more frustrated by the minute. 

The way your body moved was no longer elegant, just harsh, angry strokes of somewhat rhythmic actions. You did your best to do it just as you were shown, but the overwhelming anger and emotion in your body was just more than you could handle. 

Little did you know, next to your bandmates, stood Hyunjin and Chan. They had come to ask something, but instead found you dancing your angered heart out. All stopped and stared, and Chan could only focus on the way your hips contorted, the patterns your hips followed.

As the music stopped, you turned around, and your eyes widened at the visitors. 

“We can leave if you’re busy, Hyunjin-ah just wanted to ask if he could borrow the studio tomorrow, and I wanted a word with you, if that’s okay,” Chan asked, and all of your bandmates went silent, expecting you to take the lead of the conversation.

“Hyunjin-sunbaenim, the studio is yours whenever you need it. Let me know what time, and Chan-oppa, would you like to talk now?”

Hyunjin bowed, and gave a quick thank you before heading out of the room. “Yes, please. If you’re too busy, no worries,” and you looked at your girls and told them to head back to the dorm. You were done for today, no reason to beat a dead horse when clearly today was not a good one to get skills in. 

“Can we talk in my studio?” Chan came closer to you, almost a whisper, and you knew this was going to go one of two ways: he was going to fuck your brains out, or he was going to let you know that he did not think of you in that way, and to please never discuss things like that with him again. You don’t think you could handle either, at least not today. 

“Yeah, let me grab some other clothes,” you said softly, rubbing your forehead in anxiety. Chan quickly started to mention something, and you shut him up quick. “I don’t—”

“Chan, I’m getting new clothes because I am sweaty and tired, nothing else. I will meet you in your studio after I am changed,” you sighed, your hot knees feeling good against the cool floor of the choreography studio. Your duffle bag now wide open, you grabbed an oversized long sleeve shirt and a pair of loose jeans. 

You also reapplied deodorant and some perfume so you didn’t smell like you lived in a sewer, the amount

As your girls were long gone, you felt free to change in the studio. Your clothes quickly fell to the floor, and you were now in more comfortable apparel that is not drenched in sweat. Dreading this conversation with Chan, you swiftly collected your things and moved them to the corner to come collect after you spoke to Chan and was ready to go home. 

Guiding your way to Chan’s studio was a walk in the park. The amount of times you’d go in there to talk to him, or for him to let you hear what he’d been working on, was countless. You two had budded a beautiful friendship, and he had been somewhat of a rock. He had always been so sweet, so loving. And you’ve possibly ruined it because you couldn’t think of anything other than sex when trying to guide him through dealing with stress.

Your eyes almost welled at the thought. You couldn’t cry though, not now. So, as you stood outside of Chan’s recording studio, you held your breath for a moment and looked up, letting the tears vanish.

A soft knock sounded, your knuckles rasping at the door. The hallways were silent, and you couldn’t hear a single thing from inside Chan’s studio. Your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, and you tensed as you heard footsteps leading up to his door.

He opened the door, his face showing no clear emotions. He didn’t seem angry, but he wasn’t too happy to see you, either. His hair was clearly ran through by his hand, blonde tufts falling back towards his ears. His makeup was done to perfection, light brown tones covering his lids. 

He wore a simple outfit, a loose black hoodie and dark blue sweatpants. He’d changed from earlier, his black ripped jeans now nowhere to be seen. “Come in, you can sit anywhere,” his voice was always soft, even though he could be fuming, his tone would never soar. 

“Chan, I just want to say I’m sorry,” you muffled out, plopping down unconventionally on his couch. “I just, I don’t know why I said those things or did that,” at this point, you just didn’t want him to think differently of you. He was the closest thing you had to a mentor, and he was an amazing friend. 

If you lost him, or ruined your relationship, you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself. 

You pulled your knees up to your chest as he took a seat in his chair, staring expectedly at you. Silence followed, so you continued, unsure of what he was expecting to hear. “I just don’t like you being stressed, and the only way I know how to cope with things is kind of like that, so I figured maybe you could too, and then I offered, and I feel like I just fucked things up between us. I.. just I’m so sorry.”

At this point your eyes had clouded up, and your voice had cracked multiple times. The day you’d had just piled up, and your exhaustion was visible. Chan’s eyes immediately softened, and he felt bad. He wasn’t mad, he just didn’t know how to approach the situation. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, and he stood up from his chair and joined you on the couch. At this point, you’d started full on crying. “I ruined our friendship, and now I’m sitting here crying so you’re gonna feel too bad to be honest with me about what I did wrong,” you were now sniffling hard, and your chest was dense you were surprised you could breathe. 

“No, love, that’s not it, I promise,” your heart pumped blood a bit harder at his nickname for you, and he placed a warm hand on your back. “I came here to ask if you were okay,” his tone was now nothing but soft and supportive, and he continuously rubbed your back. Warmth spread throughout your entire body. 

“I heard about the meeting, and everyone kept discussing how stressed out you were today,” in the dim light once more, his eyes glowed. They were so soft, so sweet. His entire aura was just warm, loving, and nothing was more assuring. 

“No matter what happens between us, you’re my friend, and I care about you,” he smiled softly, “Nothing would change that, unless you like, stabbed me or something,” he laughed soulfully, and you laughed with him. He pulled you closer to him, your head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Chan. I just didn’t know what to do, and today has been really shitty,” you smiled, and let your head fall even closer to his chest. His thumbs ran circles around your back, and he held you close. “It’s okay, I understand. Trust me,” a warm silence encased the entire room, and as Chan now cuddled you warmly, your face was now red at the reality of the situation.

“Do you feel a bit better?”

“Yeah, I just needed someone to remind me of how things are and to keep me grounded,” you sighed, and Chan’s thumb was now no longer rubbing your back. His hand had stilled, and all you could hear was the heartbeat from inside Chan’s chest. He was so broad, and the expanse of his torso provided a very comfortable pillow.

“I wasn’t offended, or taken back or anything when you offered, you know that, right?” Chan spoke out of nowhere, the rumbling of his chest vibrating intensely. “I wouldn’t have known, I tried my best to ignore you in case you never wanted to speak to me again,”

A small laugh came out of Chan, and his chest pushed your head a bit. “No, in fact, I think I’ve thought about it a little too much.”

You pushed your head off of him at this point, and resuming your position before he sat on the couch. You pulled your knees back up to your chest, and looked at him. “Really?”

“You said you wanted to have sex with someone you trust, and I feel the same way. It’s really hard to come by good people with good intentions, and you also happen to be beyond gorgeous. Why would I not want to?”

With cheeks now flushed red, you giggled. School-girl giggled, specifically. You had no idea how to take this compliment, but then the realization hit you. Christopher Bang just said he wants to fuck you.

His face also turned a deep scarlet, and he looked down, waiting for a reaction. “Mr. Bang, the things you say. So scandalous,” you both laughed lightly, and you hummed in response to the silence. “If we decide to ever do something, it’s important we talk about it first,” you mentioned, and now the conversation went from light-hearted to a bit more serious.

 “Of course, but in what way?”

“I don’t know, what kinds of things do you like? I can’t promise I can pertain to everything, but there’s no harm in trying. Especially if it happens more than once,” you clutched your legs, and Chan leaned forward a bit, his elbows on his knees as he stared ahead.

“Uh, well,” he laughed, and covered his hands with his face. This was the Chan you liked, who could make any situation, no matter how dark, seem light and easy-going. “It’s not really,” he started, beginning to look at you, then stopping himself, “I don’t know. I never usually talk about it like this,”

“Well, how about this: I tell you what I like, and you tell me what you’re willing to do. Just because I like it does not mean you have to do it, but if you enjoy it too, its mutual pleasure, yeah?”

Chan simply nodded, now mesmerized by you. His face completely tracked yours, and you sighed. “I have always loved your hands. I really, really like if you’d put them around my neck, if you would ever feel so kind. I really love being praised, I love being called a good girl, things like that. My favorite foreplay is just making out, I’m just a big softie, but I can take rough if that’s what you like. I’m a big pleaser, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of and get some pleasure out of this,”

Chan nodded once more, and his fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around his rings, twisting and turning. “Your turn, Channie,” you smirked, and he leaned back, a smile crowning his face. 

“Well, I really like being soft and intimate, I like any position, bonus points if I see your face,” he smiled, his cheeks burning scarlet. He clearly did not talk about these things often, moreso just played them out in the midst of a high and never spoke of it again. But he and you both knew how important communication was, so he continued.

“I have played around with being called Daddy, but I’m not sure, and if you’re not comfortable with it—”

“If I am that uncomfortable with something, I promise I’ll tell you. Besides, that’s really cute. Rolls right off the tongue, right Daddy?”

He visibily shivered, and you smiled. “I—uh, I like if you’d run your fingers through my hair, not too hard, but like soothingly, kind of? If that makes sense. I also like it if you’d verbalise when you’re, uh—”

You knew where he was going, so you leaned close to his ear and finished his sentence for him. “Gonna cum? Oh, it would be rude not to,” you laughed gently, and you saw the last of Chan’s patience snap like a rubber band. 

His hands grabbed your face sternly, yet somehow gently. “Do you want this?” he asked, the lust obvious on his face. Despite any previous conversation, he needed verbal consent to continue, and it would make him feel most okay with doing this. 

“Yes,”

The room was now silent, anticipation filling your entire body. You’d come in here crying, and you couldn’t help but hope you’d leave the same way; just a different type of crying. 

He pushed you so your back was now flush against the couch, the headrest leaning your upper torso closer to him. “Tell me to stop, and I promise I will, alright? The second you tell me to,” he was now looking you dead in the eyes, above you. Your legs were spread open, and his entire body was in the valley of your abdomen. Both of his arms were on either side of you, perching himself up. 

“Chris, just kiss me already,” you whined, and he laughed wholeheartedly, before dipping in. The first kiss was hesitant, exploring new territory. His lips tasted like vanilla chapstick, and the first few were light pecks. It took only a second before he took the initiative and added his tongue to the mixture. 

You rarely ever used tongue, most of your hookups barely even kissed, which is why none of them compared. Kissing was your weak point, it was a vulnerability. And Chan did not abuse that power once.

“Is this okay?” he mumbled against your mouth, your exchanging saliva now making more than your mouth lubricated. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned out, the amount of times he would kiss you now making you weak.

His hands dragged softly, and held themselves at your jaw, a classic sweetheart. His thumb was against your cheek so softly, the pads gracefully rubbing across the expanse of your cheekbone.

Everything about this was so domestic, so warm. His kisses were so soft, and full of love. There was no rush, no push to go any farther had you or him decided not to. His warm hands on your face made you purr on the inside, and when he pulled away, he had looked more beautiful than ever. 

You had no intention of mentioning the wetness that had gathered between your legs, until Chan was staring at you, and momentarily his eyes widened. “Shit,” he cursed, looking around rapidly. “We don’t have a condom. I’m clean and everything, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable,”

“I have an implant, and I’m clean too. I just want you, if you want me too.”

Chan had no other qualms about it, and he attacked your face in sloppy kisses. “Here, can we switch positions, my arm is hurting?” he asked awkwardly, and you laughed with your entire chest. It was a normal question, but the way he asked so ashamedly, as if it was something terrible. 

“Sit up straight, let me get on your lap,” you said softly, and he did as he was told. It was only then that you saw the bulge in his sweatpants, and you forgot that he actually had a male appendage, and from the looks of it, he was either girthy or long. Or both. 

As long as he knew how to use it, you’d be fine. 

He grabbed you by your hand to help maneuver you, and now your entire weight was on top of Chan. As you finally sat your hips down, he groaned. “Oh god,”

You took his face in your hands, and started kissing him again. At this point, you didn’t want him to be respectful anymore. His hands did not waver from your face, and so you took it into your own hands. Grabbing them both, so soft and calloused, and placed them as discreetly as you could, onto your hips. Moreso your ass, but Chan didn’t know your intentions. 

His hands pushed your hips forward, now rutting against his hard on. His lips and yours were now in a frenzy, drenching each other. It was still pretty slow, nothing fast paced, just more intense.

He broke the kiss, and his hands now edged at the bottom of your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asked, breathless. His lips were now swollen and puffy, and his pupils were blown wide. 

You nodded softly, no words needed to be said. He quickly hauled the oversize shirt above your head, and groaned harshly when he realized you had no bra on. His first instinct was to latch his mouth onto your nipples, sucking softly. A moan left your mouth, and with nothing to hold onto anymore, your hands found his hair. 

Still rocking back and forth, your panties were probably soaked at that point. So much foreplay had you almost throbbing, and you couldn’t wait much longer to have him inside you. 

“Chan, please,” you moaned out, and he bit down on your nipple gently. “Only since you asked so nicely,” he added, and he told you to stand up. You did so, easily willingly, yet you loved the way he spoke to you.

It was almost a request, a plea. There was no power imbalance here, simply one trying to find another. He was so gentle, in everything he did. You wanted to drown in that feeling. 

He pulled your jeans off without a hitch, and eyed your lace panties hungrily, slightly thankful you’d changed earlier this evening. His fingers grasped the sides, pulling them down your legs. You were now completely bare, and he was fully dressed. This was a problem. 

“Not fair, your turn,” you pouted, and his eyes were fixated on your naked body. It felt odd, having him see you like this, but you couldn’t complain. Your arousal was now tainting your inner thighs, and Chan could probably see it too. 

He rid himself of his hoodie and his shirt at the same time, and you finally got a full view of him shirtless. This man was absolutely ripped, and you had to hold in a gasp. His arms were lined in protruding veins, and his abs were impeccable. You worked out, but not in your wildest dreams would you ever be able to maintain that nice of a physique. 

It wasn’t until he pulled off his pants, and painstakingly after, he patiently pulled his boxers off. God, did he have a pretty cock. A bit longer than average, slightly girthy, and it made your mouth water just thinking about it. 

Your first instinct was to pop down onto your knees, but as you were on your way down, Chan grabbed you by the arm. “Not this time, please, I need you,” he whined out, almost painfully. 

As you were on top of his lap, you were careful not to let him inside you yet. You figured he could decide when to do it, and you squealed when he let one hand slide from your face, down to your throat. His fingers, covered in rings, squeezed gently. He coaxed another moan from you as he let his fingers glide down the valley of your body, and found itself on your clit.

His movements were slow, but intense. His fingers glided over your folds, picking up some of your arousal, and placed all of his attention onto your little nub. Small pinprick moans escaped your mouth, and you began to tilt your hips in an attempt to get more friction. “Fuck, you’re so wet,”

Some noise semblant to a mew tried to leave your mouth, but his fingers tangled themselves around your neck further, leaving the sound trapped in your throat. “Are you ready? Or do we need to get you a bit more warmed up?” he asked softly, his mouth now next to you ear. His voice was dark, and husky.

“God, I just need you inside me,” you whined, and his hand let up on your neck, and he grabbed his cock harshly. He pumped it a few times, and spread your lips, and lined you up.

“Beg,” he said simply, and even if you tried to sink down, he now placed a hand on top of your hips harshly. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. “W—what?” you asked, breathless. 

“Beg, I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you,” he repeated himself, and looked down at you mischeviously. You two were face to face, and his cock was still in his hands, and your lips spread wide open for him to see. “Fuck, please,” you whined, and to no avail, he didn’t budge, “please, daddy, I just wanna feel good,”

As soon as the name sounded from your mouth, he pushed inside of you. The stretch was amazing, it was slightly painful, but it felt like nothing on this earth could amount. His entire cock filled you out nicely, and the lewd sound of him smacking against you was filling the room.

His hands laid at your hips now, piling into you like his life depended on it. His balls were smacking against your ass, and the harsh thrusts stimulated your clit. Everything was so intense, the way he filled you so deeply, you could feel him in places you didn’t know he could reach, and you felt like you’d burst apart the seams. 

Shameless moans spilled from your mouth, and Chan was in your ear, grunting like a man starved. “Such a good girl, fuck, for me,” his groans were so animalistic, and the way his hands would hold you steady.

His fingers traveled down to toy with your clit, and he never stopped fucking you. Your fingers started to tangle within his hair, and his lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking, finding anything to latch onto. 

The second his fingers started rubbing your clit numbly, you knew that you were going to cum soon. Everything he did just felt so good, you were just a hole the second he started fucking you.

“I—I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum,” you breathed out heavily, and your legs started shaking. “Please, can I—please cum?”

“Yes, cum for me,” he breathed out in a husky tone, and it wasn’t long until you felt your thighs start to involuntarily shake, and the feeling inside your abdomen welling up. “I’m so—” you were cut off by your orgasm rushing over you, Chan’s fingers never stopped stimulating your clit.

You moaned out harshly, slumping towards him, unable to control yourself as one of the most harsh orgasms you’ve ever had washed over you. Your entire body started to seize, and you clenched around him harshly. He continued to fuck into you, sucking into your neck, and he starting fucking into you faster. He was definitely close, “Where-”

You cut him off, still under the shock of your orgasm, “inside me, please,” you begged, and he fucked into you once more, even harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,”

He lived up to his promise, as less than a few seconds later, his warm cum spurted inside of you, and he still rutted his hips, begging for more friction. He stroked into you a few more times, now drained of energy. He placed a soft kiss onto your neck, and whispered, “Thank you.”

You got up, and put your shirt back on over yourself, and Chan pulled his boxers and sweatpants on once more. A thought rose over you on whether to leave or not, but you knew Chan would be a skinship type of guy. He would probably have a drop, and not be used to just casual hookups like this.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked softly, and a large part of you hoped he would say yes.

“Please.”