#love whatever the hell is going on with the permit office

[hsakuras]

𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 | 𝐋. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍, 𝐄. 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

cw: post war levi, angst, oral sex (f receiving), finger fucking, mentions of Erwin being deceased, uhh you stick your fingers in his mouth, gaslighting/guilt tripping, generally just not a healthy relationship, trauma bond, dubcon(?)

He doesn't need love.

Levi has settled on this since he came back from the war. He has to atone for his sins, he thinks, no one can expect him to come back from that hell expecting a happy ending. He knows the tears that fill your eyes when he meets your gaze is one of relief. He can feel himself melt into your touch, the one that he knew shouldn't be for him.

He thinks he doesn't deserve it. The kindness that you show Levi is overwhelming and when he sees you all he can think about is him, carrying his lifeless body to his final resting place, your scream when he handed you his bolo tie, your tears when you were given permission to enter his old office. He made sure you got the privacy you needed when you were going through his things, kept his distance and pretended not to hear you cycle through your emotions.

God, he remembers the anger that consumed you and the sound of glass hitting the walls when you find the flowers you had placed on Erwin's desk had wilted. They were white roses, pure, sturdy, and full of life but seeing them again must have pissed you off. When he walked back in to check on you he saw the water spilled everywhere and you were-- no, everything was wrecked. The office thrown askew, maybe because you couldn't stand the sight of how organized it was, how his office was still so him. He didn't say anything when you were sobbing on the floor. He didn't know what to say really, how do you comfort a heartache that you didn't cause?

He wonders if your heart break then feels anything like the one he has now. It feels like his bones ache, his chest is too heavy, its too hard to breathe, and he just can't fucking look at you without the tears threatening to build up again. Levi doesn't know if it was the trauma of losing so many people around him or if it was just that you both lost someone you mutually held close to ,even if the reasons were different, he thinks that things would have been different if he had been more careful, if he knew that you would cling onto the broken bond you both now share, he would have pushed you away sooner.

He can feel you cry at night even if you think he's asleep.

Levi doesn't cry. That's what everyone says and you don't argue. He rarely smiles so it must be even more scarce for him to cry.

Levi won't confess that he did cry. You won't ever know what he saw when he fulfilled his vow to Erwin or when he finally, finally saw the faces of those who devoted their heart. He won't ever admit to crying because he doesn't deserve to cry.

-

"Levi"

He lets you reach out to him, to place your hand in his left hand like he's the one who invited you to sit out with him. You always make sure to sit to his right, where he still has his good eye.

In the evenings he spends his time sitting on the small porch outside, the pretty outdoor furniture your doing, and spends it reflecting on every minute detail of his actions. Your hand is soft and gentle in his and he can't help but feel wrong for holding something so pure in his fetid grasp.

"Hey," he says, his mouth is dry. He looks up at the sky, hoping that the clouds or whatever higher power there is to show mercy to him and allow him to express what he feels.

You look so attentively, he knows why Erwin held you so close. You're beautiful, kind, and so fucking warm-hearted it makes him crazy.

He can't hold your gaze for very long, he wishes he was better at this. God, why couldn't Erwin be here with you instead? It would spare him from breaking.

"Let's go inside" is all he manages. He feels pathetic.

You nod. Helping him up because his leg--isn't fully healed yet. He permits you to do this much. When he leans against you, you're reminded that despite his injuries he's still pure muscle, still strong. When you guide him to the bedroom he catches glimpse of Erwin's bolo tie. It haunts him, snaps him back to reality that he owes these little moments of peace and helplessness to you. It makes you happy to help and suddenly he remembers when you would fasten Erwin's bolo tie. You did it for him the day he died.

When you finally make it past the threshold of the bedroom he tells you to sit down with him on the bed. You oblige, never one to argue.

He feels the bed shift under your weight. You're looking down at his right hand, the one that makes him so self conscious.

"Look at me." He glances at the bolo tie again before meeting your eyes.

He's good at creating tension. You know that it's not on purpose, he doesn't mean to make people squirm under his gaze but he's the Captain Levi of the Scouts, sometimes you can't help but grow uncomfortable when he studies you so intently. He longs for you to be the exception to this but he can't bring himself to soften his gaze.

Not with what he's about to tell you.

His eyes burn into yours and you feel hot. You try and keep your breathing level, it's your attempt at concealing how nervous you are right now. He's handsome in this lighting and you catch how his pupils dilate.

"Lev--"

"I'm sorry."

It's strange, he thinks, to apologize for something that he hasn't even spoken about to you since Erwin passed.

"I'm sorry that it's me and not him."

You scoot closer to him, grabbing his right hand and placing it into yours. He hardly lets you hold his right hand, let alone bring it up to your lips to place a kiss on his ring finger.

"Don't apologize" you whisper.

He lets you guide his hand to your chest, where it's warm and he can feel your heartbeat and the rise and fall of your breathing. He should stop you now, finish telling you what he has decided, but he can't. Not when you look at him with pleading eyes, letting go of his hand to stand up and strip down to the satin camisole and panties under your clothes. The ones that you had bought for him.

The pang of guilt and arousal hit the pit of his stomach. This view wasn't his to start with, but Levi is only a man, he can't deny your beauty or that you make his cock ache when you take his right hand in yours again and guide his touch where you need it most.

You place your knee in between his legs, you can feel his erection through his pants when you guide his hand under the hem of your top to touch the warmth of your skin. Goosebumps rise where you trail his hand, you shiver when his thumb brushes along the underside of your breast.

He doesn't mean to grind against your leg, but fuck, the pressure feels good. You look ethereal in front of him, looking down at him like he's the one you've always wanted all along. He rolls his hips again and it gives him enough friction against his length to satiate the desire that's clouding the entire reason he brought you in here.

"Levi" your lips are so pretty, they look so soft when your part them and whine. You place your free hand on his should, giving him a slight push, not strong enough to actually move him.

He knows when you want, you've done this before. He'll adjust himself on the bed, sitting back enough that your knee is still in between his legs, right against the heat of his erection and your other knee keeping him in place by practically straddling his right thigh.

"Hey" he uses his other hand to pinch the soft of your thigh. He hoped his voiced wouldn't have wavered, that he could have looked at you with more authority to spare your dignity and bring you back to the unfortunate reality that awaits you.

"No." you respond, silencing him when you press your fingers into his mouth. God, you can feel how hard he is against your knee, his cock twitching and leaky. It makes you hot, arousal pooling in between your legs.

You push down on his tongue, watching how his brows furrow, how his spit pools around your digits, moving them in his mouth until your pinching his tongue with your thumb and index finger.

His eyes meet yours and you smirk down at him. His right hand is traveling up the inside of your thigh, ring finger hooking at the waistband of your panties to pull and let it snap back against your skin. He does it again, pulling his head back to get your fingers out of his mouth.

You let out a quiet moan when his thumb finds your clothed clit. He circles it there for a moment, his ring finger pressing where your slit is, making sure a wet patch forms on the fabric of your panties before he finally uses his other hand to slide them down your thighs, letting them bunch up mid way.

His mouth waters at the string of your arousal that connects your cunt to your panties. He can't think, you entice him entirely too easy. Did you do this to Erwin?

He can hear your breath hitch.

"Do you miss him?" he asks, thumb finding your clit again, this time his ring finger slips past the tight entrance of your pussy. He watches your head fall back in pleasure before his starts moving. He always starts like this, slow and suspenseful because he loves building you up.

"What?" you huff, moaning because you know that he always finger fucks you like he has to prove that he doesn't need to use his good hand. He can do it this way, thumb drawing the most delicious circles and his ring and pinky finger hooking against that sweet spot inside of you that clouds your sense.

"Do you miss him?" he repeats. This stops the motion of his thumb, letting the full length of his fingers delve into your wet heat. He presses a kiss to your clit, groaning when you push his head further into you. His tongue slipping between your folds, a small part of you feels bad because you're sure he's aching in the confines of his pants when he grinds himself against you.

"Levi" you squeal, his good hand keeping you in place while he sucks, licks, and nips at your clit. He can't deny how beautiful it is to watch you fall apart for him, to cry out his name while he fingers you. The muscles in his arm are taut with how he's fucking into you, he sucks on your clit again. It's messy, he eats you in the most carnal way, doesn't care that his mouth and chin are covered in his spit and your essence.

He pulls away again. Fingers squelching when he finds the exact pace and speed to have you melt.

"Do you miss him?" he pants, his breath only makes you grow hotter and your hips can't stop from matching the rhythm of his fingers, you dig your nails into his scalp, attempt to pull him away when he delves back in to suck on your clit.

He drags the flat of his tongue up your clit, your eyes rolling into the back of your head because you know he's teasing you. You know it and you hate it.

"Do you wish it was him?" He knows your close, fingers finding that spot again, his grip has you planted right where he wants you, "You wish it was him and not me, huh? Want to pretend I'm him don't you? You're so fucked. So fucked."

"Fuck, did you squeeze his fingers like this too? You think he'd be mad that you whored yourself out to me? He trusted me you know."

You cry out when he uses more force, you can feel the stickyness of his precum against your leg from how he's grinding against you. You can't speak. This is his favorite part, where he keeps you and your high and keeps agitating you, when you keep cumming and cumming and he keeps spewing nonsense.

"I'm not him, you know? I don't deserve this, you deserve better, but fuck-- you're so damn good."

He should be ashamed, he's never acted like this before. Your moans get louder, pleading for him. He engraves this moment into his head, loves the way you say "Levi, fuck please, please."

He has you right at the edge, toying with you, pushing you to fall over the edge into pleasure. He feels your walls tighten around his fingers again and he's panting, pressing a kiss to your navel and he's cumming, nipping at your skin when he does.

You're both left panting, using each other to stay upright before you begin to move into more comfortable positions. You catch a glimpse of the wet patch on his pants, his cum is sticky and hot, and you know it's probably uncomfortable for him.

He cleans you both up, because that's what he always does, even if it takes him a little bit longer to get around because of his healing body, he thinks that it's the least he should do for you. It's one of the ways he can apologize for indulging into you.

"You didn't answer me. " he guides you to the plush of the bed, your spot next to him. He practically dressed you in your nightgown. You don't reply, only feeling frustration being to spread where arousal once was.

"Do you wish Erwin was here?"

You don't answer.

"I know you do. I know that it's so fucked up that I came home and he--"

"Levi, what the fuck are you talking about?"

He doesn't say anything. The look on his face is somber and it transports you back to that time, then it hits you. The heartbreak again, the suffocating one that makes you feel like you wouldn't survive.

It's happening.

Oh.

It's happening again.

Your chest hurts when you look at him like when someone you love is being ripped away from you and that can't stop it.

He feels guilty.

"I think that your love is misplaced. That you have given me a part of you that should have never been mine to begin with," he explains, he struggles to get up again, but he does it by himself. His gaze is harsh again, like when he was forced to look at Zeke.

"It shouldn't have been mine. You aren't mine." He walks over to the door, "I'm sorry" he whispers, opening the door, insinuating for you to leave. "It always felt like I was betraying him."

He watches your bottom lip wobble, wouldn't fight back if you threw him on the ground right now.

"He's dead, Levi." your voice breaks and the weight of his words hit you.

"God, you think this whole time I've been with you because I'm misplaced? Fuck you! I'm not fucked. You are. "

You grab your clothes, huffing and crying. He wishes you would hit him, throw him down, insult him, fuck, he wishes you would say that he is right, your feelings for him weren't actually for him to begin with.

You don't though. When you make eye contact he notices that your eyes are full of tears. You're wearing the same facial expression you made when you learned that Erwin was dead.

He deserves this version of you.

He deserves this, it's his atonement.

It's better this way, he doesn't need love.

[docs-mailbox]

There were a good couple minutes where Doc was just standing there.

Permit office before him. Water all around. The waves sounded like those zooming skulls, fast as a bullet, heading straight for his base. It felt like a nightmare.

Was that what it was? A nightmare? Could there be a chance that none of that was real, that maybe, just maybe, it was all just some nightmare scenario his fucked up mind concocted and that his base was fine and that attack wasn’t real and—

No. It was real. No point pretending otherwise.

His Octagon outfit was in tatters, and he could feel bugs crawling inside of his mechanical wings. Endermites scurried out onto the grass. He hated endermites, he decided. He hated them with the rage of a thousand burning suns. There was so much hate in his heart. And it sizzled and singed at the seams. And it stung. It stung like hell. His eyes stung as well. No clue what that’s about.

He started walking. He wasn’t even thinking. Barely realized what he was doing, and by the time he did, he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. The comfort room. He was going into the comfort room.

It was so sterile. So beige and white, so uninspired, so— it was like an asylum. Somewhere to chuck the unwell into so nobody had to think about them. Was this his fate? Was he destined to live the rest of his life in this prison, this hell, this— whatever this was?

Did he deserve it?

He wasn’t sure how to answer that.

In front of him were five note blocks. There was a calming fern, some art, and a small seating area. He was alone in the comfort room.

Doc wasn’t sure why he was so inclined to press it. But he did. And Scar’s voice emanated from the speakers.

Welcome.

He was seated upon the chair.

Please close your eyes.

Let your body relax into the cushions, and listen to my words of affirmation.

You are loved. You are beautiful. You are safe.

Yeah, yeah, whatever. It felt fake. Manufactured. It was a pre-recorded message, for fuck’s sake. Takes away all the meaning.

You will comply.

Sure! Yeah! Whatever. This place is a madhouse. Hands on his knees, he was about ready to get up and head ou—

Your base is being looked after by us.

And then he froze again.

Your base has received many five-star reviews.

It was like a stake through the heart. That feeling, again, creeping up his throat, eating at his chest, hollowing him out.

Your base represents your soul.

It’s gone. It doesn’t exist anymore. He’d done so fucking much to cultivate it, and now it’s gone, because he wasn’t enough of a badass to go down protecting it.

It’s beautiful—

No, no, no, no no no, no, no, no—

—guides your intellect in creating such an– ingenious base.

He couldn’t even see straight. What was this? Anger? Sadness? Did he almost kind of think this was funny, in a way?

Many people have complimented your base.

And he didn’t even realize that all this time, he’s been tugging at his ring finger on his robotic arm, and—

Many people have missed you.

—and now it’s off, but it’s not enough, he had to yell, he had to scream, he had to—

Many people are glad you are getting the help that you need.

—grab the potted fern and, and, and—

Exile is good for you.

A loud crash followed the conclusion of Scar’s message.

Heavy breathing.

Wires. Stray wires. Wires getting pulled out, wires all over the floor. From his wings, from his arm, from whatever he could get his grubby little fingers on.

And he wasn’t sure how long he was at it for.

Only one thing managed to snap him back to reality.

New message.

It’s from Grian.

[rotationalsymmetry]

OK. I'm going to go off about voting for a minute.

First, it is fucking weird that the tumblr fight over this is Side One: You Must Vote For A Democrat For President No Matter What, Don't Even Think Of Voting Third Party Or Whatever, This Is A Moral Imperative vs Side 2: Voting Is For Chumps.

Uh, ok?

So, the people I know in real life have a spectrum of political beliefs, mostly I don't interact with actual conservatives much but I do interact with the sort of people who think that Bernie Sanders is too far left and people who think he's just about right and people who aren't really thrilled with anyone who has a snowball's chance in hell of getting elected president and people who think that states shouldn't exist. And people whose beliefs don't necessarily line up perfectly with the left-right framework, even when you let the left side go that far.

Mostly, I know people who want minimum wage to be higher and public schools to be better funded and immigrants to not be treated like complete shit, things like that. Sometimes they also do land acknowledgements and stuff.

And these people vote. And they call their representatives. And they campaign for politicians they like. And they go to protests. And they go to town hall meetings and ask questions and sometimes shout down whoever's speaking.

And you know what?

I want minimum wage to be higher. I want public schools to be better funded -- I'm critical of schools and I think truancy laws are fucked up, but given that schools are a thing I want them to have more money than they have. Similarly with minimum wage, I don't think anybody should have to work, but given that in practice most people do, I want a lower wealth gap and I want everyone to have enough resources to live on and raise kids on, and one of the most effective short to mid term ways to get closer to that goal is raising minimum wage. I want open borders, but failing that I at least want things like the DREAM act and less blatant cruelty from ICE and sanctuary cities.

And I want schools to be able to teach about historical racism and to use books like Maus as teaching aids and to be able to say the word "gay", and the most direct way to get that is to vote for people for school board who also want those things. (Although, being a PITA is sometimes effective against elected officials who don't want those things, so it's not the only option.)

And I want the criminal justice system to get completely scrapped, but that's not going to happen tomorrow but what can happen is electing more sympathetic and justice oriented people to roles like the district attorney and public defender. And sometimes getting the right people into local office, county boards of supervisors and whatnot, can mean that the cops get less funding and that programs designed to help ex-convicts have places they can live and work after getting out get more funding, or at least that things don't get worse.

And of course showing up to town hall meetings and protesting in the streets are still options, but they're still options whether there's relatively cool people in office or not, and when there's relatively cool people in office you can push things more towards what you want and when there's shitty people in office you end up doing reactive actions that might or might not work, like when Bush got elected president -- for the love of all that is good and worthwhile, autocorrect, I do not want to dignify that title with a capital letter -- and then 9/11 happened, and anti-globalization activism in the US basically stopped dead so that we could all protest the Iraq War instead, which may or may not have done no good whatsoever but certainly did not end the Iraq War.

A formative expeience in my life was Critical Mass. I got really into bicycle activism and I loved Critical Mass. And not everybody who does Critical Mass, which is basically the sort of protest where you don't have a permit and you might get arrested on wheels, seriously one time San Francisco mass went onto the Bay Bridge, also goes to town hall meetings, and probably not everyone who goes to the town hall meetings does Critical Mass, but a lot of people do both. There's nothing stopping people from doing both. It's not ideologically inconsistent to both sometimes block traffic with a bunch of bicycles because getting bike lanes striped takes too long and you want to be safe riding a bicycle on the streets right now, and begging/pressuring your elected representatives to stripe more bike lanes. You can do both. I did both. People do both all the time.

And sometimes eg some fucking jerk of a rich boy is running for mayor and wants to cut general assistance payments for homeless people to under $50 a month and is making this out to somehow be good for them, and you've been feeding people with Food Not Bombs but Food Not Bombs needs someone to be a liaison with the Coalition on Homelessness, and the Coalition on Homelessness is freaked out about the proposition, so you do electoral politics stuff with them while you're also feeding homeless people without a permit, because nothing's stopping you from doing both. (And maybe you're also a young person who has a lot of free time and a lot of energy but no real idea of how to get anything done, so you just throw a lot of energy at problems and hope something does some good.) (hypothetically, I mean.)

Like what was I going to do, just tell the more experienced people at the Coalition on Homelessness, most of whom had been homeless and who had way more expeience actually doing stuff than I did, that this whole distributing door hangers thing was bullshit and I wasn't going to help them do it? Because I knew better? Because I thought voting didn't matter?

I mean, I guess I wouldn't have had to look them in the face and say that, I could have just told Food Not Bombs I wasn't going to be a liaison -- I was an absolute dogshit liaison anyways, I had no clue what I was doing -- and then I wouldn't be doing anything with the Coalition anyways. But they had a problem, a threat that was going to make things worse for the group they were advocating for, a group that most of them at least used to be a part of, and I could help them, or I could not help them, and the way they wanted people to help was through electoral politics. Which also involved some protests because people do both all the time. But which also involved a lot of doorhangers.

[whitherwordswither]

Dead Ringing, Pt. 8a

What time was it?

Some time around too-damn-late o'clock, by any count. I squirmed as I laid with the wolf. For a good while I flittered in and out of some kind of sleep. Eventually, the unquiet churning of my brain won as usual and I stared in to the darkness, listening to the mangy mutt's deep, steady breathing.

Hell. This was the part I was never really good at. Staying. And it's not that I didn't want to. Warrick is the best combination of a heater and a body pillow I've ever snogged and snuggled up with. Truth was… I had a lot on my plate and the thinky-squishmeat in my skull wouldn't give me five seconds to enjoy myself because brains were just damn good at being unhealthy saboteurs.

As quietly as I could I extracted myself from the tangle of the wolf's limbs, not that it would matter much. He'd make a few cute grumbly sounds and continue to sleep. I stood there, staring down at him, a small smile twitching across my lips. I really did love the big furball, despite his often times infuriating shortcomings and needs. Then again, we all had our shares of shit, didn't we? I wasn't any better in some ways. We just happened to work well… when we worked. With a soft sigh I padded across to the far side of the room and tugged the comforter off the bed. Somehow, we always managed to never make it quite that far. I draped the blanket over the beast then leaned down to give his forehead a quick kiss.

I was going to miss this.

I know, I know. I should tell him. I keep meaning to tell him. But the timing is never right or the words get stuck or… bollocks. I could make excuses for myself all day, but the truth of it was I was actively avoiding it. It wasn't going to be a fun conversation and I'd much rather have fun conversations than… than having to tell him I was leaving for Boreal Dome in a few short weeks. Duration undetermined.

My shop was doing well enough and I had a few offers on the table. But I didn't want any other hands in my pot. So I was taking the next step on my own. It was time to do something I hadn't thought of doing before. Expanding. I always thought I'd have my one little shop, living above it, grow old and die there. I guess I was deciding to alter that fate.

Boreal Dome was settled on the western coast and was nearly three times the size of Rochland. It was a huge hub for ship traffic, both on and off world.

I knelt and felt around for my discarded clothing and dressed as I made my way over to the island counter, scooping my jacket off a stool and picking up my data pad. I poked at the screen, checking for any new messages. And there it was. Confirmation. My request for a permit on a vacant lot had been approved. I had to keep myself from doing a little dance as I pulled my jacket on and headed out the door, casting one last look back at the wolf and blowing a little kiss. 'Cause I can be cute when I feel like it.

The lights in the hallway flickered. And surprisingly I found myself staring at a familiar face settled across the way, idling away on her own data pad. Feline ears swiveled and perked, our eyes meeting. What was her name? Planet-like. Fiery. The cat stopped poking unenthusiastically at her pad and tossed it atop her duffel bag as she stood, cheeks flushed a bit as she offered a meek smile. Ah, shit. She'd… been out here the whole time hadn't she? Because of course she had. Laws of the universe or whatever.

I let my hand slip from the doorknob, brushing a some stray hair from my face as I returned the smile. "Mars, wasn't it?"

"Heh… um…" The cat scratched at the back of her head. "Yeah, so anyway. I uh… got Warrick's address from Akeno at the office. They were having some trouble findin' me a spot to stay. Somethin' fucked up with the plumbing where I was initially getting sent to while waiting for my residency to transfer and… uh…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake." I rolled my eyes. "Tell you one thing this city could use. Some competent maintenance workers. Doggo's passed out on the couch. Imagine not even the worm sirens would wake him. Why don'cha go ahead and make yerself at home, love."

"You sure that'd… be alright?" The cat shuffled, glancing down the hall, then toward the door that I pushed back open, inviting her in to the apartment that so obviously wasn't mine. I knew the wolf well and how he operated. He was precisely the type that wouldn't let someone muck about in a dingy hallway if he had the room to put them up.

"Aye, if he gives ya any grief just tell 'im he can come 'ave a word with me. Doubt he'd say no to ya, anyhow. He's really quite sweet under all that fluff." I managed to flash a grin, then added: "He's usually good for another round when he wakes up, if ya fancy a roll~" Because making things even more awkward was something of a specialty of mine.

Mars looked like she was trying to win first prize in the tomato-with-whiskers contest. "I… I uh…"

I shook my head and gave a quiet laugh. "That's a priceless look right there. Hah. Bed's free up, anyhow. He keeps the sheets relatively clean if y'can believe it. It'll be fine. Go on and get yerself a proper nap. He really won't mind."

Mars gave a tiny mewing sound and nodded her head. "A.. alright. Thanks, L. Beats snoozin' in the hallway. Though I 'spose I've slept in worse spots…" She picked her bag up off the floor and hoisted it over a shoulder as she moved through the arch. "Might swing by for lunch. I could totally go for another one of those pastrami sammies you make. Been thinking about them all fuckin' day."

"I'll 'ave a fresh one waitin' for ya." We exchanged another round of smiles before I excused myself. "Got some extra work to do before I can turn in. Catch ya later on, Fritz." I gave Mars a wink as I turned and began to head down the hall. The thick leather jacket doing nothing to protect my backside from the daggers that were being glared in to it. I giggled to myself as I rounded the corner and headed for the stairs. Never trust an elevator.

Mars stood in the doorway for a space of minutes, peering in to the dark of the room before huffing and finally heading inside. The door closed with a soft click.

It couldn't get any more awkward, could it?

[llyncooljones]

like a mirror - rowaelin month day nine.

ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin month ‘22 masterlist 

prompt: single parent au.

word count: 1924

trigger warnings: language, inuendo

tag list: @rowaelinscourt @live-the-fangirl-life  @rowaelinismyotp  @rowanaelin @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @elentiyawhitethorn  @autumnbabylon  @leiawritesstories @backtobl4ck

the office, early afternoon.

It wasn’t often that Aelin’s voice could be heard across the entire executive floor of her office, in fact, she couldn’t recollect a single time she had ever shouted so loudly in the office. Not once.

Not even when she had fired that one guy for touching up one of her college-aged interns. She had gone more for the talk-quietly approach so that she could threaten him with genital dismemberment without being overheard. Then she had laughed because of dis-member-ment and genitals.

The employee she had been firing looked bewildered, and not at all scared until she showed him the concealed-carry permit she had.

After the meeting, and the crazed laugh she continued to let out as he left, and after he left, she decided she spent too much time around her teenage son and his equally immature teenage friends.

That had been over a year ago, and her son had only further filled her mind with immature, dirty jokes. Jokes she had to restrain herself from telling. Truly, she had nearly bitten her tongue in half the last time the whole executive floor had a meeting, so many missed opportunities.

Her son, Oren, would truly be displeased with her. he encouraged her inner child to come out and play, whilst also accepting that she had to be a strict mum sometimes.

She wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but she had a son who loved her, respected her, and behaved for her—except in the rare cases when he acted out.

Her laptop was cradled in her left arm, her phone in her hand, folios for the hour’s meeting she was heading to. She was set to go. All she had to do was manage to slip her feet into the stilettos under her desk, she couldn’t show up to a meeting with a prospective client, in unicorn slippers her son had bought her.

That wasn’t quite how she wanted things to go. Wasn’t the best message to send them.

After too many minutes of struggling, she managed to slip the red bottoms on, without toppling in the five-inch heels. She deemed it a success. She had just managed to pry her office door open—without putting down the items in her arms and hands—when the phone in her hand rang, startling her straight through the gates of hell.

Managing to hold onto her laptop and the folios, she answers the phone, keeping it on speaker phone as she slides through the tiny gap in between her office door and the door frame.

“Hello, am I speaking to Ms Galathynius?” spoke a voice, prim and proper, as though they went to a fucking school to learn how to speak. Maybe they did, but whatever the situation, Aelin was too distracted making it to the right boardroom, that she didn’t pay enough attention to her voice.

She, in fact, did not realise who the person on the other end of the was until it was too late to hang up.

“Yes, this is she. How can I help you, ma’am?” Aelin never used to answer the phone like this.

Sixteen years ago, when her company had been a start-up in her living room, she’d answered the phone with a yawn, the sound of a baby either screaming or suckling and a casual what d’ya want? but since those days, she’s learnt not to do so.

Funny how such seemingly small things, can have such a massive impact on your business reputation.

“Hi, I’m calling from the office of Principal Westbrook, in relation to the recent altercation your son was involved in. we’d really appreciate it if you could make it to the school in the next hour. We would appreciate a meeting with the parents of the students involved.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Just give me forty-five minutes to get there, I just need to clear up a few matters at work.” Her mind was going a mile a minute, because she had an hour-long meeting scheduled in ten minutes, and those ten minutes needed to be used for prep.

Despite so many years in the business, she never quite got over the fright of standing in a room, full of men who no doubt thought themselves smarter than the woman who still carried her south-Orynth accent, wore bright pink heels, and won their money and loyalty.

And sometimes she lost, sometimes they laughed when she stood up, sometimes those people found their pockets empty the next morning, and sometimes women’s charities found themselves billions richer as a result.

Not that it had anything to do with Aelin.

No.

“Brilliant, I’ll book the meeting for an hour from now, and I’ll let you go.” Thank the gods, Aelin wasn’t sure how much longer she could listen to the woman’s voice.

“Thank you, buh-bye.” Rude? Maybe. Necessary? Absolutely. Aelin needed to be sane, for when she met with her son in that fucking oppressive office of the principal.

With hurried steps, she made her way to Boardroom One, ignoring the heads of department who tried to catch her eye or have a word. She had a scheduling crisis to sort out and no fucking time to do so.

With little time, she set out the folios for the law firm that was coming in, hoping to re-evaluate their approach to clients and the media via their advertising and social media. E.R.A. Media had made a name for itself in the last fifteen years, ever since Aelin’s favours from school had come through and she’d landed her first few high-profile clients. And since then, growth had been exponential, to the extent that she could dedicate teams of two specialists to each client.

SWM Law was a twenty-year-old practice, with a client list longer than Aelin’s own, and had become one of the major law firms across the country, with offices in every major and minor city. Whilst Aelin was successful, to make just over a billion in a year she had to be, the law firm was worth several billion, upwards of fifty on their good years.

And if Aelin didn’t land this client, it wasn’t the end of the world, but it sure would sting, because right then they were lined to be their biggest client to date.

In other words, she couldn’t afford to mess this one up.

With exhaustion, and questions unanswered, she slumped into a plush chair and rested her head in her hands. Raking them through the hair she had taken an hour to do that morning, she sighed. A proper sigh. One of absolute exhaustion.

“Uh, is this Boardroom One? I’m here for a meeting with Ms Galathynius?” spoke a large, and yet soft voice. She wasn’t quite sure what about it was large, or what about it was soft, but it made her think of the days when her father would tell her all about ‘the business in that strict, business voice of his, mixed with an affection no one else could quite match.

“Hi, yes. This is! And I am. Ms Galathynius, that is. I understand how unprofessional this seems, me sat here like this—”

“—Oh, gods, don’t apologise. I’ve spent so many ‘work hours’ just sitting in my desk chair. You really have nothing to apologise for—”

“—But I just got some news that is going to interfere with our meeting today, and I don’t want to force you to reschedule, I understand how busy you are, but I’m not sure I can fit all the plans into the short time period.” She rushed out, laughing awkwardly, and yet comfortably, at the man’s interjection. It made her happy, a little calmer, to know that he understood.

“I am all too happy to reschedule. Don’t worry about that, ma’am. Might I ask what news you got?” he was so kind, so diplomatic, it was no wonder he worked magic in a courtroom because underneath all his kindness she could see every ruthless bone in his body—and there were two-hundred-and-five of them.

“Oh, nothing. I just have to meet with my son’s principal. And I can’t send his father, because—the bastard he is—he ran off when he found out I was pregnant.” She gasped for breath at the end, having spoken too quickly, and it took a minute for her brain to catch up with her mouth. “Oh, gods, I should not have said that. I am so sorry, that was terribly inappropriate of me, I do promise I’m usually better than this. Sixteen years in the business, and yet I can’t keep myself together after one call about my son.”

“Gods, I can tell you right now, that I don’t miss the days my daughter was in high school, those were some trying times. Never helped that I couldn’t quite understand her troubles. But, regardless, I’d quite like to get this meeting done today—just to avoid the rescheduling hassle. I have no opinion on you picking up your son. How long will you be?”

“Oh, he’s over at Westbrook Preparatory, so it’ll be long past our meeting time when I’m back. Don’t worry, I’ll get my personal assistant on it. She’ll get on the line with yours, and all will be resolved.” Easy, his people, her people, and a new meeting time.

“I do hope this doesn’t weird, but I’d be rather open to having this meeting in the car. On the way to pick your son up. Now, I understand you don’t know me, but my daughter was at Westbrook, as a day student, and parent to parent, you’re going to want a lawyer because that school is going to try and sue you for something.” The friendly tone was selling her, and to be honest, from Aelin’s previous interactions with the school, she would not mind a lawyer.

The second it had been revealed she didn’t have a rich husband who paid for her stilettos, she had become public enemy number one.

“You sit silently in that chair until the law is brought up. I don’t give two shits how you did your shit, I do mine, my way. Until I need a lawyer. But I don’t need you until I need you, yeah?” she hoped it made sense to him. She wasn’t sure it would make any sense, but she could hope that he would understand.

“Totally. Anytime somebody tried to parent my daughter without my say-so, I can tell you I flew off the hook. I mean, honestly. Gods, there was a time,” as he spoke, they moved towards the door. Leaving the folios, leaving their laptops, leaving their business brains behind. Aelin would be a liar if she said she hadn’t remembered. She had; she was just enjoying this conversation. She had never met a single parent who was so successful, who somewhat understood her stressors.

Rowan continued on, and Aelin hung onto his every word as he spoke, every intonation had her nodding, every question had her answering, and every exclamation had her gasping.

By the end of the journey to Westbrook, they were fast friends. Telling stories about the worst and the best of times. The trials and the triumphs. The days that got the worst of them, and the guilt. But mostly the good times, mostly the joy that so few could understand.

It felt like looking into a mirror sometimes, and Aelin found that she had never liked the reflection so much before.

[storiesofsvu]

Unexpected Judgement Ch 10

Warnings: Language, angst, anxiety and minor panic attack. Very unsupportive Momma donnelly.

***

Figuring that your secret was officially out, you’d grabbed disclosure forms from the precinct when you’d stopped by to pick up a few things Friday evening, thankful that it was basically deserted. Over the weekend, you and Casey had simply avoided the blow out in Liz’s office, deciding rather to look forward, starting to search for new apartments online for both of you to move into. You ended up visiting a couple, one where the agent mentioned there was one with a little more space a few floors up. Unsurprisingly you both instantly fell completely in love with it, the open design, the full windows, the beautiful granite countertops, hardwood flooring, also unsurprisingly, it was definitely out of your budget. You put a pin in your dream condo and continued the hunt for something that you could afford while working for the city.

Sunday evening rolled around before you knew it, and Casey could feel your anxiety vibrating through the apartment. She was quick to wrap you in her arms, reminding you that you didn’t have to go to dinner. You were quick to reply that Liz would be even more mad at you if you ditched, you’d just have to deal with whatever she had coming for you. You were careful to make sure you changed into all clothes that were actually yours, pulling your hair into a loose bun, giving Casey a soft loving kiss before you grabbed your bag to leave.

You weren’t quite sure how long you stood on the sidewalk in front of the Brownstone, occasionally pacing to try and wrangle your thoughts. It was when your phone pinged with a text from Rita telling you to get it over with and just come in that you sighed, letting yourself into the house. When you rounded into the joint living/dining room area you were met with Rita and Liz sitting at the table, drinks poured, a couple plates of finger foods on the table.

“Can’t say I expected to see you today.” You Mother greeted. You replied with a cold look, pouring yourself a hefty scotch at the liquor cart before dropping your bag in the spare chair beside yours.

“I figured I’d be in more trouble if I didn’t show.”

“You’d be in more trouble if you’d brought her with you.” She shot back. 

“Ugh, MOM! Why can’t you just accept that I met someone who I actually really love for once?”

“Because you can’t possibly be in love with her!”

“And you happen to know everything about my love life?!”

“I would if you hadn’t hid it from me for nine months!” 

“Oh gee, I wonder why we did that?”

“She’s got a point there…” Rita commented. She knew how to read the room and wasn’t about to cause any chaos tonight, hell she was more there as a referee to make sure you didn’t end up killing each other. Liz shot her a glare.

“It’s only a matter of time until it implodes on itself, you are breaking up with her aren’t you?” You took a hefty swig of scotch, 

“No. In fact, we started looking at apartments together this weekend.”

“You can’t be serious.” Rolling your eyes you reached into your bag, tossing a folded piece of paper across the table. Liz cocked a brow, unfolding the sheet, eyes quickly scanning over Casey’s disclosure papers. “No.” She stated blunted, “Absolutely not.” She looked you dead in the eye while she ripped it into quarters.

“What the fuck?!” You barely noticed Rita quickly moving through the room, dumping at least a double of fresh scotch into your glass.

“I’m not permitting you to be with her.”

“You think ripping up a piece of paper is going to break us up?”

“It certainly means that if you continue on there’s a high chance you’ll both lose your jobs.” She was playing mean that was for sure, it was toeing the line past the point she ever had with you.

“It’s starting to sound like you’re threatening me…”

“Your little stunt almost blew the entire Macmillan trial! Do you not want to get justice for that little girl?”

“My little stunt?! How about Buchanan outing us in the middle of a court room?!”

“He’s already been dealt with and you know it.” You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m not a child, I know what I’m doing, I know how much I love Casey and I know that I’m going to spend my life with her.” Liz scoffed,

“You’re too young to have any idea what you’re talking about!”

“I’m twenty eight! I think—“ She cut you off, voice harsher than before.

“And at twenty eight I was stupid enough to make the mistake of marrying your father thinking I was going to be with him forever. Then made the mistake of trying to save a dying marriage with a baby!”

“Did you just call me a mistake?!” You were fucking pissed now, just daring her to jump the line. Liz locked eyes with you, cold and hard across the table.

“Yes. I did.”

“Elizabeth!!” The shriek came from Rita, outwardly offended at how low she had just steeped.

“Go fuck yourself.” You spat the words, rage burning through your veins you were quick to grab your bag, storming out of the room, hearing Rita shout out after you.

“Y/N!”

“Don’t bother Rita, she’s a disgrace to the Donnelly name.” 

You slammed the door as hard as you possibly could, racing down the steps and out into the streets. Tears blurring your eyes, you were thankful there weren’t many people around. The cold wind whipping around you didn’t bother you, it helped calm the inner sense of a brewing panic attack, helped the anger boiling in your veins come down to a simmer before you were able to hail a cab. You could feel your body vibrating the entire ride, holding back about every emotion possible, you silently handed the driver cash before racing up the stairs to Casey’s apartment. Your keys shook in your hand as you tried to get the lock undone, finally pushing the door open and accidentally slamming it shut. Casey’s head shot up from the island, her eyes shooting to the clock before back to you.

“Baby you were gone less than an hour…” When you didn’t give her a reply she stood from the island, cautiously making her way over to you. You tried to speak but a sob wrenched out of your lips, gasping for air between heavy sobs wracking through you body. “Baby!” 

Casey was there in less than a second, she quickly removed your coat as everything in your hands were dropped to the floor. She pulled you tightly into her arms, tucking your head under her chin, hand cupping the back of your head, keeping you impossibly close as you shook with sobs, tears pouring down your face. You were nearly dead weight against her, she gently dropped to the floor, making sure you were fully in her lap as she let you cry it out. Casey’s arm stayed tight around your body while her other hand started to soothingly brush against your hair, lips laying the ghost of a kiss against your locks, simply waiting for your body to stop convulsing. Neither of you had any concept of how much time you silently sat there, when your sobs finally came to a slow, your body let out a large shudder before calming slightly against Casey, body still tense, tears still slipping down your cheeks.

“What happened?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, concern laced through her words. Your voice shook when you replied, hoarse from sobbing.

“She tore up the disclosure forms…” Casey kissed your hair softly, lips muttering against your skin when she spoke again,

“Baby, that’s fine…I’ll just go straight to McCoy when I get back.” She paused briefly, “How bad was this fight?” She felt your head shake against her,

“I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay…” She lay another gentle kiss against you, hugging you tighter in her arms, whatever went down was clearly worse than you’d dealt with before, even if you didn’t want to talk, she was still here for you, no matter what. You hiccoughed suddenly, feeling a spike of anxiety rattle through your body, you groaned, pushing away from Casey.

“I think I’m gonna puke…” You muttered, half stumbling your way into the en suite, she heard the door shut behind you. Sighing heavily she pushed herself up from the floor, back in the kitchen she pulled out the kettle, hoping maybe the calming effects of a cup of tea might help. The sound of the shower starting up made her flick the machine back off, knowing you’d likely want to wash away the day and it might be a while. A few moments passed before there was a knock at the door, her blood boiled thinking it was potentially Liz coming to finish off whatever argument you’d likely stormed out of. She braced herself pulling the door open.

“Rita?” Her brows scrunched, the woman looked slightly defeated, a hint of anger present on her face.

“I’m assuming she’s here? Or did she disappear down to Seagate?”

“She’s in the shower.” Casey replied, Rita let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d even been holding. “What the hell happened?”

“I’ve never seen them get into it like that…I don’t know why Liz has such a stick up her ass about this whole thing. She crossed the line pretty hard tonight.” She sighed, “We didn’t exactly get around to eating..” She held up a take out bag that Casey took with a gentle thanks.

“Did you want to wait, talk to her?”

“No…” Rita gave a small smile, “Just make sure you tell her I love her…”

“I will…” There was a brief moment of pause, before both women were taken by a soft surprise as they moved together into a small hug, the words left unspoken shared through the small gesture. Rita gave Casey a tight smile before leaving, knowing that you were safe and in good hands.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Trial Failure

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader enemies to lovers!

Read the series or on its own

Masterlist

You were sitting in your car a few months later, sending Peter a text telling him to be safe on patrol. Before you could get out of you car, you heard a knock at your window. You jumped and looked up to see Spiderman standing outside your car with his hands on his hips.

“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle.” Peter said as he rested his hands on an invisible belt.

“What did I do, officer?” You played along.

“It says here that you don’t have a permit for being that pretty.” Peter replied.

“Aw.” You chuckled a little. “You’re such a loser.”

“Shut up.” He laughed. “It’s dark already. Let me walk you home.”

“In the suit?” You asked as you got out of the car. “I feel so fancy.”

“Only the best for my lady.” He said as he took your hand. “It’s so creepy in here. I wish your parking lot wasn’t so far from the actual building.”

“Me either.” You shrugged. “But at least I have a parking lot. May still has to park on the street. She and I complain about it a lot when you’re not around.”

“Well I would also have my license if I wasn’t so busy, you know, saving New York or whatever.” Peter shrugged.

“Shut up.” You laughed as you leaned into him. You slipped your hand into his gloved one and fell into a comfortable silence.

When you passed by the bodega near your apartment, you caught the attention of a man sleeping outside.

“Hey.” He chuckled and pointed at Peter. “You’re that spider guy.”

“You can call me Spiderman.” Peter said kindly.

“Okay Spiderman. And who’s this?” His attention shifted to you. “Spider-Man has a girlfriend?”

“No.” Peter said quickly and dropped your hand. “We just met. I’m just doing my duty and walking her home.”

The man didn’t take his eyes off of you, which made you step closer to Peter.

“Yeah?” The man asked. “And where’s that?”

“Nowhere.” You answered. “Don’t worry about it.”

“All right.” The man narrowed his eyes at you. “I hope I’ll be seeing you again, beautiful.”

“You won’t.” Peter said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Have a nice night, sir.”

Peter put his hand on your back and quickly lead you away. He stayed silent until you got to your apartment building, the tension between you palpable.

“I shouldn’t come in.” Peter said. “Not while I’m in the suit. People shouldn’t see Spiderman going into your apartment.”

“No ones around.” You chuckled to break the tension. “I think it’s fine.”

“I can’t.” Peter shook his head. “Your neighbor could see me or the cameras could pick me up or-“

“Hey.” You cut him off with a smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to come up. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter sighed sadly, hating to have to leave you without a kiss goodnight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once Peter had swung away, you blew him a kiss when you knew no one could see. You went inside and didn’t give the night another thought. Elsewhere, Peter was torn up over what had happened. The way the man had been looking at you was shaking him up. He let it go for the time being, but it stayed with him in the back of his mind.

~

The next night, you were making the ten minute walk from your apartment to Peter’s. You put your keys between your fingers and kept your head straight as you walked. When you passed the bodega near your apartment, the man from the night before noticed you.

“Hey, aren’t you Spider-Man’s girlfriend?” He asked with a wicked grin. You ignored him and kept walking, picking up your pace as he followed.

“You are, aren’t you?” He continued when you didn’t respond.

“No.” You said flatly.

“Yes you are.” He cooed. “You’re pretty.”

You ignored him and sharply turned a corner, but he followed.

“Hey!” He called after you. “Don’t I get a thank you?”

“No.” You called back. “You don’t.”

“You know.” He seized your arm suddenly, making you stop. “I don’t like Spiderman that much. He webbed up my buddy and got him sent to jail.”

“Aw. Poor you.” You said as you pulled yourself out of his grip.

“No, pretty girl.” He shook his head. “Poor you.”

You watched his hand disappear into his pocket and soon heard the click of switch blade.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you backed away from him.

“He took my buddy from me. I wanna take something from him.” The man growled as he held the knife up to your throat. Your back hit the wall as you craned your neck away from his blade. You could feel the sharp blade against your throat and felt a cold panic run down your spine.

“Wait, please.” You gulped as your hand went into your pocket. “Don’t hurt me. I have a baby sister at home. She needs me.”

“Aw.” He said sarcastically. “Do you?”

“I do.” You nodded and pulled something out of your pocket. “She needs me to take care of her. I’ll show you.”

Instead of pulling out a picture, you pulled out your pepper spray and sprayed it in his eyes. He backed away screaming and you took this opportunity to punch him in the throat. He doubled over in pain, so you swiftly kicked him in the stomach and took off. You didn’t stop running until you reached Peter’s apartment, never once looking back. Once you were in his room, Peter caught sight of your messy hair and the tiny red line on your neck and immediately panicked.

“Woah, are you okay?” He cupped your face so you’d look at him. “What happened to you?”

“I’m fine.” You huffed and dropped your bag. “It was that stupid guy from last night.”

“What guy?” Peter asked as he fumbled through his desk for a bandaid.

“The one we passed by the bodega. I saw him again.” You explained as Peter’s shaking hand out a bandaid in your neck.

“What happened?” Peter asked. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I had my pepper spray on me.” You told him.

“Did he try to hurt you?”

“I mean, I guess.” You shrugged. “I think he just liked that I was your girlfriend. Apparently he’s not much of a Spiderman fan.”

Peter withdrew his hands from you when he heard this as if he was scared to hurt you further.

“He attacked you because of me?” He asked quietly.

“No. He tried to attack me because of you. Pepper spray, remember?” You cracked a smile, but Peter didn’t return it.

“Peter, I handled it. It’s fine.” You put your hands on his face when you noticed how scared he looked.

“He…he shouldn’t have done that.” Peter stammered. “You didn’t do anything. He had no reason to go after you.”

He pulled away from you again and ran his fingers through his hair. He was deeply distraught over this, even though you were okay. You reached out for Peter again but he swatted your hand away.

“Peter, it’s okay.” You said quietly. “I’m okay. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing compared to what could have happened.” He corrected you.

“Look, I was really scared back there. I understand if you’re scared too, but I’m on your side here.” You said softly. “You can’t pull away from me right now. I need you. I need my boyfriend to tell me it’s okay.”

Peter’s face softened when you showed a rare sign of vulnerability. He slowly opened his arms to you and you stepped into them. Peter wrapped his arms around your body and rubbed your back and you took a deep inhale.

“I love you.” He said before kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I got you, princess.”

“I love you too.” You mumbled against his chest.

Peter looked up at the ceiling to keep tears from falling down his face as he held you. He let out a deep sigh as he rubbed your back, silently thinking about the effect this would have on his future.

Especially his future with you.

~

“Some guy attacked Y/n because he saw her with Spider-man the night before.” Peter said as he set his lunch down. Ned stopped eating and let his jaw drop.

“Are you serious?” He said with a full mouth.

“Yeah. I put one of his friends in jail so he went after her. She had nothing to do with it but he still targeted her. Because of me, Ned. It’s my fault he went after her.” Peter sighed and rubbed his face.

“Dude, it’s not your fault.” Ned said. “You didn’t know he was gonna do that.”

“But now I do.” Peter stated. “And it’s only gonna get worse from here. I mean, you’ve seen the guys that have gone after Mr. Stark and Pepper. What if some guy tries to hurt Y/n to get to me? Someone a lot worse then some hobo with a switchblade.”

“You don’t know that will happen.”

“But I know that it could if I continue to date her.” Peter sighed again. Ned furrowed his eyebrows when he heard this, jumping to the conclusions of what that could mean.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t think there’s anything else I can do.” Peter said quietly. “I think I have to break up with her.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ned leaned forward to ask.

“How else am I supposed to keep her safe?” Peter’s bottom lip began to tremble. “As long as she’s my girlfriend, she has a target on her back. I can’t knowingly put her in danger like that.”

“But, Peter. You love her. And she loves you. You can’t just end it.” Ned countered.

“I have to end it because I love her.” Peter explained. “I have to love her enough to put her safety over my happiness.”

“She’s gonna hate you.” Ned shook his head. “You know her.”

“Maybe not. Maybe she’ll understand.” Peter said hopefully.

“I don’t know, man.” Ned sighed. “I think you found something really good here. I don’t think you should mess it up.”

“But if she got hurt because of me...” Peter trailed off. “I’d never forgive myself. I can’t risk it.”

“I’ll support you either way.” Ned said. “But only if you stay with her.”

“That’s not really supporting me either way.”

“Yeah. Because I think your way is really dumb.” Ned deadpanned.

“It’s not dumb. She could’ve been killed.” Peter protested.

“Do you honestly think she’ll let you break up with her over this?” Ned asked. “Shes gonna tell you that you’re ridiculous and she can protect herself.”

“Then I won’t tell her my reasoning.” Peter decided. “I love her but she’s stubborn as hell. Especially with me. If that reason isn’t good enough for her then she won’t get a reason at all.”

“Peter, that’s even worse.” Ned whined. “There’s no coming back from that. You know how much she values communication. That will crush her.”

“I’d rather her have a broken heart then be killed.” Peter said simply. “She’ll hate me for a while, sure, but at least she’ll be safe.”

“I don’t know about this.” Ned frowned. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Before Peter could answer, you sat down at the lunch table with a smile. Peter gave Ned a look that told him to cease all conversation of the breakup, which made Ned look away.

“Hey guys.” You smiled. “What’s going on over here? You both look so sad. Did you break up or something?”

Peter and Ned froze at your joke, giving each other a knowing look. You looked between the two of them and noticed the icy tension.

“Woah.” You laughed awkwardly. “I was kidding. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine.” Peter lied as he kept his eyes on Ned. Ned stayed silent, knowing he couldn’t lie to you.

“Okay.” You said skeptically. “Are we still gonna hang out after school, Petey?”

“Yeah.” Peter gave you a tight smile. “We can talk after school.”

Ned let out a sad laugh before looking at Peter. He silently picked up his backpack and left the table, not wanting to be a part of Peter breaking your heart.

“What was that all about?” You asked once Ned left.

“I don’t know.” Peter said without looking at you. The guilt was already eating away at him and he hadn’t even broken up with you yet. You changed the subject and started to talk about something else, but Peter barely heard. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing he was acting like everything was fine when he had every intention of breaking up with you. When the bell rang, Peter snapped out of it and looked at you longingly. You gave him a small smile, having no idea what was coming. It broke Peter’s heart to know this was the last time you’d be happy while looking at him. Peter leaned in to kiss you, letting it linger much longer than usual. He figured it would be your last kiss, and he wanted to make it last. When he pulled away, you had confusion in your eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked. “That felt like a goodbye kiss.”

“I’m okay.” Peter nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

Peter avoided you the best he could for the rest of the day. Once the last bell rang, he bolted out of school with stopping at his locker. He had felt sick all day because of his decision. He was so wrapped up in his guilt, he didn’t even hear you knock at his door.

“Hey, Petey.” You smiled as you shut his bedroom door behind you. “I looked for you at the lockers but you weren’t there. Did you run home or something?”

Peter jumped when he heard your voice and whipped around, all the color draining from his face.

“Um. Yeah.” He stammered. “I did.”

You were quick to notice his off behavior and furrowed your eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you approached him. Peter took a single step back from you, so you didn’t move any closer.

“Um…I have to talk to you about something.” Peter said quietly as he stared at your feet.

“Okay.” You folded your arms. “Is everything okay?”

“I think…” Peter gulped and shut his eyes. “I think we should break up.”

“What?” You chuckled as you raised your eyebrow.

“I don’t think a relationship is right for me right now.” Peter lied, finally looking up at you. “I think I need to be on my own.”

“That’s not funny, Peter.” Your smile fell as glared at him.

“I’m being serious.” He said weakly. “I don’t want us to be together anymore.”

“Why?” You asked as your eyes glassed over. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I was into it, and now I’m not. So I want to break up.”

“That’s all I get? “I don’t know?” We spend six months in love but all the sudden, you don’t know?” You asked as a tear fell from your eyes. Peter had to look away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to continue if he saw you cry.

“Look, I just changed my mind okay? It’s nothing personal.” He said as he looked at the ceiling.

“Really? Because it feels a little personal.”

“We can still be friends.” He offered. “We said we’d give this a try, and we did. It just didn’t work out.”

“So the trip to the graveyard, you telling me your secret, bringing me to meet your team, all the kisses in your bedroom and the sex in mine, was all of that it not working out for you?” You asked him.

“No.” He swore. “That’s not...this isn’t about that.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” You raised your voice. “Did you just use me for sex? Is that all this was? Some twisted way to get into my pants?”

“No.” Peter shook his head rapidly. “I loved you, I just-“

“Loved?” You cut him off and laughed sadly. Peter watched as you wiped the tears from your face with a broken heart.

“I’m sorry.” He said sincerely. “I wish I had something better to tell you. But my mind is made up. We can’t be together.”

“What did I do?” You whispered through your tears.

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything.” Peter promised as he took a step towards you, needing to hold you. This time, you were the one who backed away.

“Then why don’t you want me?” Your voice trembled as you struggled to look at him. Peter let out a ragged breath, shaking his head to try and convey that he didn’t mean anything he was saying.

“I…I don’t know.” He croaked. “I just don’t.”

“How do you not know?” You yelled tearfully.

“I just don’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t know my feelings would change.”

“But how could they change so fast? All those things you said to me, “That’s the only pain I’ll ever put you in”. ,you mimicked his voice, “Was all that just bullshit?”

“No.” He stated. “I meant it when I said that.”

“And I believed you. God, how could I be so stupid?” You cried.

“You’re not stupid.” Peter began to cry as well. “You’re just not what I want.”

“Not what you want?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you repeated his words.

“I just don’t want to be in a relationship right now. Can you please try to understand that?” He begged, trying to salvage any sort of relationship with you that he could.

“No. Fuck you. I hate you.” You whimpered.

“You don’t mean that.” Peter said as he stepped closer to you.

“Yes I do. I never should’ve given you a chance. I fucking hate you, Peter Parker.” You cried as you hit his chest. “I wish we never met.”

“Please, don’t leave.” Peter pleaded as you grabbed your bag. “We can still be friends.”

“I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want anything to do with you.” You sniffled as you went for the door. At this point, Peter was deeply regretting his decision. He knew he should have told you how he was feeling instead of acting irrationally.

“Wait. I think I made a mistake.” His hands began to tremble as a panic ran down his spine.

“No, I did.” You told him. “The mistake was believing you when you told me you loved me.”

“I do love you.” Peter said weakly.

“Then why are you breaking me?” You yelled at him. You and Peter fell into a defeating silence, both standing there with tears falling. You looked down at your feet and wiped your face, sucking in a sharp breath before speaking.

“You said you’d never break my heart.” You said quietly. You slowly looked up at Peter and sized him up and down with your eyes. In that moment, he was no longer the boy you grew to love. He had reverted back to being your enemy, and so you had just one word for him.

“Liar.”

With that, you turned around and left his apartment. Your word suck into Peter like venom and he felt physically ill. He stumbled back and fell down on his bed, his full emotions finally being felt. Peter put his hand over his mouth and cried so hard that he began to dry heave. He was realizing much too late that Ned had been right. With the way Peter was feeling, he knew he had not made the right decision. He just chased his first love away in a mess of tears and shards of a broken heart.

~

You ignored the calls and texts from Peter for the following week. He didn’t want to bombard you, so he sent his usual good morning and goodnight texts with a little “please talk to me” at the end. After three days of tearing up whenever his name popped up on your screen, you blocked his number.

May let you in one night when he was on patrol so you could collect your things. You grabbed the shirts and underwear you kept in his drawer from all the times you “accidentally” slept over. You took your chapstick on his bed table, hairbrush on his dresser, and the toothbrush you kept in his bathroom. You held the box of your things against your hip and looked around his room. He had your project, the one that initially brought the two of you together, framed on his wall. You looked down at the ground, feeling like you might break if you looked at it, and left his room.

“Did you get everything?” May asked when you came back into the kitchen.

“I think so.” You said quietly, not trusting your voice not to break.

“I don’t understand him sometimes.” She frowned. “He loved you so much. I can’t understand why he’d do this.”

“Yeah.” You smiled tightly. “I can’t either.”

“Come here.” May opened her arms to you and you stepped into them. She blew cold air on your neck as you cried against her shoulder.

“He’s the smartest guy I know.” She said as she rubbed your back. “But he’s also incredibly stupid.”

“I know.” You laughed through your tears.

“He’ll come around.” She cupped your face and wiped your tears with her thumbs. “I can tell that he already regrets it. Give him a few days and he’ll be begging at your feet for forgiveness.”

“Maybe.” You smiled sadly. “Thanks for letting me in. I should go before he comes back.”

“Wait. Before you go.” May said as she took a bottle of body spray out of your box. She took your hand and lead you to Peter’s room, where she sprayed the body spray into the air.

“There.” She smiled. “That’ll torture him when he gets back. He’ll think he’s being haunted by you.”

“May.” You laughed at her ingenious. “That’s so mean.”

“He was meaner.” She shrugged. “I’ll see you soon, Y/n.”

You said goodbye to May and went to your next stop. This one being the Avengers tower. Tony put your face in the facial recognition system, so you had no trouble getting in. You got most of your things from Peter’s room, but took a page out of May’s book and left something on purpose. After collecting the rest of your things, you went into the kitchen. You slammed the box on the table and let out a loud sigh. An equally distraught sigh coming from behind the box made you jump out of your skin. You moved the box to the side and lo and behold, Bucky was sitting at the table scribbling in a small black notebook.

“Oh, sorry.” You blinked a few times to gather yourself. “I was just collecting my things. I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

“I’m not usually here.” He said without looking up. “But I’m making amends and Stark is on my list.”

“Amends?” You asked curiously as you fixed your hair. Bucky put the notebook down and looked up at you, his piercing gaze sending a chill down your spine.

“I’ve done some bad things.” He said simply. You gulped and looked him up and down, which he noticed. You weren’t really thinking straight when you walked over to him and ran your fingers through his messy hair.

“Wanna do some more?” You said slowly. Bucky moved away from your hand and gave you a strange look.

“What?” He asked you.

“I like doing bad things too.” You shrugged as you played with his jacket. “And I like having bad things done to me. If you’d like, I could show you.”

“Aren’t you dating the spider kid?”

“Nope.” You popped the p. “Not anymore. I’m free to do whoever, sorry, whatever I want.”

“How old are you?” Bucky narrowed his eyes at you.

“Old enough.” You cracked a smile and traced your fingernail down his face.

“So am I.” He said as he caught your hand. “Old enough to be a fossil. You don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Says who?” You pouted as you put your knee between his legs. You were leaning over him now, giving him no choice but to look at you.

“Says me. Goodnight.” Bucky got out of his chair and brushed past you.

“Wait.” You said, and he stopped.

“What?”

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, drumming your fingers on his back.

“I’m 18, I’m hot, and I’m really fucking horny.” You told him. “Why don’t you stay a while?”

“I was 18 almost 90 years ago.” He replied. “You’re a child. It would be really wrong.”

“But it would feel really, really good.” You whispered. Bucky stared at you for a long time as he contemplated it.

“You don’t want to do this.” He said finally.

“Yes I do.” You insisted. “I always have. Why don’t you show me what this arm does?”

“You don’t want me.” He repeated. “You want me to take your pain away. And you want to do it in a way that would hurt Peter the most. Am I right?”

You slowly took your arms away from him as you realized he just read you to filth.

“How did you know that?” You wondered.

“I go to therapy.” He shrugged. “A lot of therapy.”

You fully withdrew yourself from him now, feeling slightly embarrassed for coming on to him. Bucky could see that you had taken your guard down and relaxed as well.

“Thanks.” You said sheepishly as you adverted your eyes.

“For what?” He wondered.

“For being a good guy and not taking advantage of a sad girl.” You gave him a sad smile. Bucky cracked an awkward smile back at you, like it was something he wasn’t used to doing.

“I’m not normally described as a good guy.” He told you.

“You’re making amends right?” You gestured to the notebook. “Every one you make is another step towards being a better guy. It may not feel like it yet, but you’ll get there.”

“I guess you’re right.” He nodded a little, like he was too shy to fully agree with you. You smiled kindly at him, feeling like he could use a little tenderness.

“Have a goodnight, James.” You said as you picked up your box of belongings.

“Night.” He nodded at you before you left the room.

You took your things back to your apartment and went straight to sleep. Bucky had managed to relieve some of your pain, even if it was just a little. Ever since the breakup, you’ve been cursing the very existence of men. If someone as kind and innocent as Peter could break your heart, you weren’t sure there was any man out there you could trust. But after your brief conversation with Bucky, your hope was restored.

Meanwhile, Peter was making an opposite discovery. After patrol, he went back to his room and immediately spelled your scent. His eyes glassed over as you looked around, noticing all your missing items. He suddenly got a message from FRIDAY that someone had been in his room at the tower. He swung to the tower as fast as he could, but he got held up stopping some bad guys. By the time he finally made it there, you were gone.

“Damn it.” Peter smacked his dresser as he looked around his empty room. “FRIDAY, did Y/n come in here?”

“Yes.” FRIDAY answered. Peter looked in his drawers and bathroom and just as he expected, all of your things were gone. He sat down on his bed and defeat and rubbed his face.

“If she took all her things back, she’s done with me.” Peter mumbled as a tear rolled down his eye.

“Maybe not.” FRIDAY replied.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re sitting on something.” FRIDAY said, making Peter move. Underneath himself, he found the t shirt of yours that he had been sleeping with. There was no way you wouldn’t have recognized it, and it had been left out in the open. Peter held the shirt to his nose and took a whiff, inhaling your scent once again. A glimmer of hope sparked inside him with the discovery of the shirt. If you left it on purpose, maybe there was still a chance for the two of you.

“FRIDAY, where did Y/n go once she left my room?” Peter wondered. Maybe he could still catch up to you.

“The kitchen.” FRIDAY answered.

“In the kitchen?” Peter asked. “Why would she be in there?”

“You can see for yourself.” FRIDAY said as he projected the security footage onto Peter’s wall. Peter looked up to see you and Bucky in the kitchen, having a conversation. He couldn’t hear the audio, but he could see you playing with his hair and flirting with him. Peter dropped the shirt as a white hot jealousy ran through him.

“Turn it off, FRIDAY.” Peter swallowed angrily. “I’ve seen enough.”

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[taeyongers]

Exile (M)

pairing: hyunjae x reader

genre: smut, rival mob bosses au, childhood friends to lovers 

summary: basically two orphans grow up and end up in rival gangs without knowing, until you meet in the middle of a gunfight

warning: drugs mention, bullying, sexual harassment, old style orphanages, gangs, gunfights, slight mentions of blood and wounds, sexual content (be warned) but it’s mostly soft and fluffy, light sub! hyunjae for a time

word count: 8.5k 

a/n: loooool @letteredwings hi friend this for u, pls don’t headbutt hyunjae anymore

The earth is cold under your bare feet. Your toes are spread wide. Wet pebbled mud meshes through the spaces in between.

It’s raining. The pitter patter of raindrops against the concrete pavement makes you want to step a little farther out from the awning you stand under, to just feel it against your skin. Your hair has already gotten wet. You just need more, a feeling to break you free from the unchanging hell you face each day.

“Y/n!” A sharp voice, familiar, cuts you out of your thoughts. “What are you doing!? You’ll catch a cold!”

It’s Hyunjae, of course. You let him tug you back from under the awning, through the doors, up the wooden steps and into the dreary warmth.

He is your height at this age. His eyes are young and shining, brows furrowed in concern and anger.

“The headmistress will be angry,” he mumbles. His hands rub your sides to get some warmth in you.

“The headmistress doesn't care,” you mutter.

He scoffs at your words, takes your little hand in his and trudges up the stairs into his dormitory. He sits you down on his bed, rummages through his dresser, which is not even a foot away from the bed. It’s a pathetically small room.

“You'll need dry clothes,” he says to himself and pulls out a towel. He places it on your wet hair, brows still furrowed. “You need to take those off. You’ll get sick.”

Finally, your cheeks burn. “All the other children already tease that we’ll get married someday and you want me to take my clothes off in your room!?”

You shove away the towel from your head. His cheeks tint pink and he sits down beside you with a huff.

“I didn't mean you need to change right now. You can do it in your room. Just dry off first.” He picks up the towel and holds it out to you.

You give him a glare and snatch the towel before placing it on your hair. He looks at you, eyeing the water dripping down the strands.

“Why were you even outside in the rain?”

“I was bored.”

He doesn't believe you. “They were making fun of you, weren’t they?” You glare at him again. He smirks like he knows something. “And you ran outside? You could have come to find me.”

“Why? You’re not my brother.”

He falls silent.

You shift on his creaky bed. “Why do you help me so much? You protect me from the kids who throw food at my hair. You fight my bullies. You talk back to the headmistress when she is angry with me. You share your cookies with me. You hug me when I cry, take care of me when I’m sick, now you’re drying me off when I’m wet. Why?”

He looks at you and shrugs. “Because you can't defend yourself. You’re small.”

Anger rips through you. “Yes I can! I don't need you!” You shove at him, nearly toppling him from the bed.

He grapples your hands. “Fine! Fine, it’s not because of that!” He says, calming you down. “It’s because… I know that sad kids end up in those bad groups around town. The headmistress says those who don't behave will never find parents and will stay here until they turn sixteen. Once they leave, they are taken in by those bad people. And I know she says that for kids who don't behave but I think those kids are just sad.” You stare at him as he stutters. “So, I don’t want you to be sad. I don't want you to end up with those people.”

“So you’re saying I’m sad?” You ask. He touches a stray piece of your hair.

“I mean...I see how the other kids treat you. How the teachers and mistresses treat you. I would be sad.”

You look at him until your gaze falls. “Then... we should both make a promise to not be sad and end up with those people.” He nods and holds out his pinky. You interlace yours with his. “We’ll find parents, or we’ll grow up and become good people.”

He nods resolutely. “Yeah.”

Your hands fall away from each other.

“Do you.. wanna change into dry clothes and come back here? I hid some extra cookies for you.”

Your lips break out into a grin. “Okay!”

He grins back. You rush off, something light fluttering in your chest.

This is how childhood goes. You do everything together. He’s your rock and your shield, your only friend. He protects you from the other children, your teachers and from the world. When they manage to slip past him, your iron defense, and get to you, you hide away and cry. He always finds you, hugs you through your tears, shushes and comforts you.

Childhood years fall away into adolescence and teenage years. By sixteen, you will be thrown out into the world, forced to brave it on your own. Hyunjae and you try to make the most out of whatever miserable years you have left at the orphanage, and whatever little protection it offers you both during this time.

As you grow, he surpasses your height. His jaw becomes defined, his body lanky and tall until he's a head above you. He's handsome… so handsome and it makes your heart flip and cheeks burn. You still share food and he still comforts you when things are hard. You find a special place together, the rooftop of the orphanage, where you lie flat and feel as if the universe is swallowing you into itself.

“We can’t turn out bad,” He reminds himself and you. “We can't fall into those gangs that plague this city. We need to make a life for ourselves once we get out of here, no matter how hard it will be.”

“It won't be hard for you,” you say. “You’re a good person. You’ll be a doctor or something. I know it.”

He scoffs, staring up at the night sky. “You don’t know that.”

“I do!” Your brows furrow. “You’re the best person here. This place doesn’t deserve you.”

He looks at you with stars in his eyes. He moves as if going to touch your cheek, but changes his mind.

“Okay,”  he whispers, “but it doesn't deserve you either.”

You stare at him. You wonder constantly if he feels something for you. You find him looking at you when you don’t notice, something akin to stars in his eyes, though to be fair, they have been there since childhood. But you’re not convinced that he feels anything for you other than that of a sister, a friend.

He holds out his pinky finger, a reassurance of that promise. You cross your finger with his.

Life’s problems change as time goes on. Bullying from the other orphans becomes more personal, more cruel. At just 15, the children have been introduced to drugs, sex, and using violence for intimidation. They wonder loudly about your relationship with Hyunjae. They wonder what you’re giving him for someone like him to care about such a loser like you.

Like that one time when a boy and his friends corner you after dinner, sneers and hatred spouting in their mouths.

“Are you his whore or something?” He asks, eyes burning holes into you. “Do you have to use that mouth in convincing ways to keep him protecting you? Maybe we need convincing as well,” he laughs with his friends.

You slip past them and run to your room. You cry until you can't breathe. Hyunjae finds you, he always finds you, soft voice filled with concern asking what, what is it, please tell me.

You tell him in between sobs. His eyes grow hard and cold. He hugs you tightly, shushes and strokes your hair until you calm down and fall asleep in his arms. His grip is gentle, but something in him is colder than usual.

The next day, he disappeared. You hear shouting in the headmistress’ office. He returns in the night, bruises sprouting across his face. His hand is clenched tight, swollen and bruised and messy. His eyes are still hard and cold.

You sit him down in your room. On this rare occasion, you’re the one taking care of him. You drag a wet rag gently across his swollen knuckles and his bruised cheekbones.

“What happened? Where were you?”

He doesn’t respond. He’s glaring at something far off and refuses to tell you.

The next day, you find that he’s been sentenced to weeks of latrine duty. You find out from another boy, Chanhee, about what happened. Hyunjae had attacked the boy who harassed you the day before.

“So then Hyunjae shows up and beats the crap out of him behind the building. If you think hyunjae looked bad, you should have seen the other guy.”

You get angry. Not at him, but at yourself. Why, why were you so weak? Why does Hyunjae put himself at risk for you? Why did Hyunjae grow up putting himself at risk for you, just because you couldn't protect yourself?

The other kids already think you’re doing some kind of sexual favors for him to protect you from abuse. You feel ashamed, disgusted. Why does he associate himself with someone as weak and useless as you?

You begin to distance yourself from him. You don’t go over to his room or let him stay in yours. You don’t hang out with him when you’re permitted to go outside. You begin to talk less, eat less together and, stop your rooftop meetings all together, feigning a headache or something else each time he asks. You feel it’s for the best. He should live his life for himself, not for you.

It doesn’t work. He ends up cornering you one day, hurt flooding his eyes, something you never want to see again. “Why are you ignoring me?”

You sigh.

“Did someone say something? Did they threaten-”

“What am I to you?” You ask.

His resolve burns away, and he’s left confused, mouth bobbing open and closed like a fish. “You’re my friend-”

“Do you love me?”

His brows furrow. “Of course I love you.”

“Are you in love with me?”

He goes still. Silent.

You look away. Of course not. He’s just protecting you because he feels that you’re too weak to do it yourself.

“I feel like a burden  You keep making up for my weaknesses.”

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up. “It’s not your fault. People are shit. I’m just helping you.“

“And you keep getting hurt. Our lives are already miserable here, and I’m just making yours worse.”

“Stop,” he says, eyes conflicted, unable to get the words out. He never was good with them.

“I’m turning sixteen soon. I’m going away.”

His brows furrow. “Where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere. I’ll get a job, and live my life.”

“But I don’t want you to go!” He erupts, rattling you. He sees your expression and softens. “We can… we can go together. Live together.”

“I’m already a burden on you. And besides, why would you? You’re not in love with me.”

He’s silent. His eyes are burning with something he wants to say. But he doesn't. He never does. And neither do you.

...

You turn sixteen, no longer legally allowed to stay at the orphanage. You move away and become a waitress. You don’t hear from Hyunjae again. You get used to your new life, find an apartment, and appreciate the small, new found freedom of living by yourself. Of course, the struggle for money is always there as well as a deep ache in your heart that refuses to go away, but it’s more than you’ve ever had.

Eight years go by and you break your promise. You ended up getting involved with the wrong people in the allure of deals for quick ways to get money. You meet a charming woman who convinces you to join her friends, that they could use your skills and knowledge. Now, you’re in a gang, one of the many in this god forsaken city.

You fight, you shoot, you kill, and you get money. You live in more comfort as a criminal than you’ve had in your whole life. You’ve broken your promise and don’t regret it. It’s as if it's always meant to be. You finally feel like you’re in charge of your life.

Hyunjae fades from your mind. You’re not sure if you ever fade from his.

Gang wars are all too familiar to you, and the strategy involved in conducting them is as well, now that you have become the leader. You like the new found power, your members depending on you, your success in proving yourself over and over again as the boss.

One gang in particular has been tormenting you for the past few years. They have been picking off your members, stealing your business, moving into your territory. You’d decided enough was enough and engaged them. It takes place as gunfights through back alleys in the middle of the night.

You decided to join in this time on the dirty work of fighting. The new enemy seems capable and more threatening than the others. Besides, as leader, you’ve been tucked away in the safety of your headquarters, sending orders from there. You haven't had a good gun fight in a while.

Right now, you’re hidden behind a building, shooting at shapeless figures in the dark. You know you have more numbers, superior guns and skills, when you begin pushing them back, cornering them, suffocating them. Victory is close and soon you will be queen of these lands once again.

Then, you hear a voice, your subordinate shouting something at the same time a shapeless figure melts from the shadows and darts across the street.

“That’s their leader!”

Oh, you are not one to miss out on this opportunity, of taking out this leader, of ruling both groups, both territories. So, you tear yourself from out of the shadows and sprint after the figure.

Your members call out after you but you ignore them. Your group is winning. Their leader is making a last ditch effort to escape. There is nothing to worry about.

You chase the figure into a darkened alley that stops abruptly at a dead end with one dim streetlight. You corner him, gun raised, and watch the male turn around.

“What kind of coward leader runs from a fight?”

He freezes, as if something has seized and taken hold of his entire body. Then, he steps into the light. A shock runs through you. Your eyes widen, and the gun almost slips from your grip.

“Y/n?”

His voice floats to your ears. Yes, it’s familiar, one you’ve memorized, but it’s deeper now. You can hardly overcome your shock as men appear behind you with guns pointed at your head. It was a trap. 

“Stop!” Hyunjae orders, shock and concern taking over his features, ones you’ve known since childhood. “We’re taking her with us.”

...

Your feet hurt from pacing the room, but you don’t stop. You hear an exasperated sigh from off to the side.

“Are you going to sit down and talk?” Hyunjae asks. He is seated at a table, a spare chair beside him. Your eyes run over him briefly. 

He’s older, much older. He’s grown half a foot since you saw him last. His body is bigger, toned from fighting. He has the same eyes, though - young looking and twinkling- and the same smell, something that makes your stomach wrench.

You continue to pace, glancing at the window, the air vent, the door- anything that can let you escape.

“Y/n.”

Your eyes snap to him. “No. I’m not going to sit down and have a talk. Especially not with you,” you spit out.

He blinks. “What do you mean, especially not with me?”

You don't respond. He stands up abruptly, and without thinking, you grab the knife from where they never found it when they searched you.

He freezes at the sight. His hand curls around the gun in his holster. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n. There are men right outside those doors. One word from me and they’ll barge in and kill you.”

“Then why don’t they?” You yell.

“Why are u so angry!?” He snarls, finally showing his anger. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in years! What did I-“

“What did you do? I thought I left you in that orphanage years ago and now I find out that you’re the head of the gang that keeps invading our rightful territory? That it was on your orders that my members were killed for years? That I was almost killed!?”

Something flits across his eyes.

“Yeah I know,” you sneer, “how ironic is it that you were my knight in shining armor back then and now you’ve been trying to kill me for years.”

He exhales, holding his hand up in a placating gesture. “Y/n, I didn't know.”

“And what about those dreams you had, huh? About being a doctor? Something good? You promised you’d not fall into this scene and yet you ended up here anyway!”

His face is hard. “We both made that promise.”

You falter, glaring at him. “I was always the less promising one out of us two.”

He steps forward. “That’s not true.”

You purse your lips. “Are you going to kill me now?”

He stops, looking hurt. “Of course not.”

“Why not? I’m the enemy leader.”

He looks exasperated. “Y/n-“ he reaches for you but you step away. His hand falls from the air.

The silence is deafening and you grip your knife. “I should kill you. I will be better for it.”

Hyunjae sighs, running his hand through his hair . “Don’t be stupid. The guards outside-“

“I can take them.” You say with full confidence. He seems surprised. He looks at the anger, the hurt in your eyes, then down at the knife, in your experienced grip. “I’m going to kill you,” you say again, almost as an effort to convince yourself.

Some light kindles in his eyes, a look of interest, curiosity. Maybe he’s caught onto your bluff.

He raises a brow. “Really?”

You blink and nod. He steps closer, so close you’re just inches away, until you can see the deep brown of his twinkling eyes, the scent of him that takes you back years. He grips your hand holding the knife and presses it against his chest, right over his heart. His gaze is intense.

“Then do it.”

You stutter. “I- I will do it…”

His eyes aren’t wavering from yours. He imperceptibly presses the knife harder against his chest. Your hands are shaking, and you make no move to pierce him. He realizes this. Without taking his eyes off of yours, he gently pulls your wrist away from his chest. With a simple twist, the knife clatters to the floor. Now, you’re both looking at each other, silence flooding the room.

His eyes never break their lock on yours except for one flicker down to your lips and back. Then, he moves so slowly, head tilting, lips nearly brushing yours to kiss you. You can barely get a hold of yourself to jerk away.

“What- what are you doing!?” You breathe hard, stepping back.

He grasps your elbow and pulls you back. His eyes soften, hand coming up to run across your face. “Please, I … just missed you...so much” His voice is shaky, a rare break in character from the short amount of time you’ve seen him recently, eyes vulnerable instead of cold steel.

“I have to kill you.” Your voice cracks. “After all those years of fighting-“

“But you can’t,” he speaks, eyes drinking you in. “Because you feel something for me like I do for you, even after all this time. And in the middle of this war and senseless violence, can’t we just have this?”

You freeze. “You feel what for me?”

He catches on. Something soft floods his eyes, his thumb stroking your cheek. You would have torn away if not for the ridiculous amount of comfort it brings you.

“Is that why you are so angry?” He chuckles, letting his hand slip from your cheek before releasing a defeated sigh. “I should have told you I was in love with you before you left.”

You still. He rubs the nape of his neck.

“When you left, I … I lost it.” Hyunjae’s voice cracked. “I was angry for the longest time. I resented you for leaving. I resented myself for not trying harder to make you stay, for not telling you the truth when you asked me how I felt.” He paced. “You.. called me a good person. Then I lost you and I threw away everything about myself that was good. I got into drugs… crime. Now I’m here.” He glanced at you. “I never thought you’d be here too.”

You silently digest his words, feeling the knot in your stomach loosen.

He steps closer and takes your hand.  “I couldn’t sleep at night for years. I constantly wondered if you were in danger.”

“I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” you whisper.

“No,” he gazes at you, talking almost to himself. “No, you don’t.” He drops your hand and sighs. “I can see I’ve hurt you too much, back then and even now, to earn your forgiveness.”

Silence hangs heavy. The entrenched hurt in your heart lightens. Of course he’d been hurting all this time too. But your throat is too heavy to form any words in response.

“So, what do we do now?” You ask hoarsely.

He’s silent, eyes going from you to the door. “I can’t take you back to my members. They’ll have you tortured and killed immediately, and there’s no way in hell I would let that happen.”

You make a show of rolling your eyes. Of course, he protects you, even now.

Hyunjae paces across the floor, stroking his chin. He stops by the table and looks up at the air vent in the ceiling. He turns around, eyes determined.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. We have to fake a struggle. Give me a few bruises. I’ll lock the door so the guards can’t get in immediately. Then, you climb up through the vent and make you way out of the building. Hopefully they won’t catch up.”

You can’t help giving a small smile. “Hopefully?”

He nods, eyes softening for a brief moment. Suddenly, he presses forward and kisses you deeply. A shock of butterflies bursts through your stomach, fluttering up and up to your chest. You barely process his soft lips, his calloused hands on your cheeks, the fringes of his hair tickling your forehead. Your mind turns to mush before he pulls away. He looks at you softly as he releases you. Then, he punches you in the shoulder, hard.

“Ow!” You reel back.

He smirks. “Where do you think you’re going?” He calls out loudly, much louder than is needed.

You catch on. “I’m leaving!” You yell just as loud and shove him hard towards the door. He grins approvingly at your play and spins around to lock the door. Someone pounds on the wood from the other side.

“Sir!? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he calls. “I just have a difficult prisoner, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Something playful flares in his eyes as he nearly tackles you. You stumble violently for a moment, his large arms wrapped around yours to pin you in place. You try to wrestle out of his grip but he manages to hold your arms tight around you so you can’t move, giving you the odd sensation of being in a straitjacket.

“No, let me go! I’ll--” you pause, glaring at him. “I’ll headbutt you, I swear.”

He smirks. “Then headbutt me.”

You pause for a second and then you swing your head into his cranium. His head jolts backwards and his arms release you to grip his throbbing head.

“What the hell- you actually did it!?”

You snicker at him before the sound of pounding resounds throughout the room.

“Sir, the door isn’t opening! We’re going to break in!”

Hyunjae whirls around to face you, gesturing you to go up the vent. “Alright, hurry up!” He yells to guards.

You step onto the table and reach up onto your tiptoes to remove the covering. With one last look at Hyunjae, who’s face seems to be a mess of regret, affection, longing, and panic, you muster out a “see you later,” before disappearing through the hole.

...

Hyunjae knows he is seen as a cold leader. Like he said, once he lost you, he lost everything about himself that was good.

He killed. He punished. He executed.

He would beat a man for looking at him the wrong way. Give brutal tests of loyalty to his subordinates. Make it so that they quake when he walks into the room.

It was to maintain order, dignity, balance.

No one can defeat him at a mental game. No one can make him falter, doubt, outsmart him, move him. No one. That’s how he climbed the ranks and became the boss.

That is, until now. Fifteen minutes in that room with you and his mind has turned to mush. You’ve grown up, more beautiful than you were before, and it utterly stopped his heart. Your smiles, enough to make his knees buckle. Oh, how he wanted to take you in his arms, like he’s imagined for years, to hold you, hug you, kiss you, never let you go.

Of course he couldn't do that. The universe is not that kind. He got in one kiss - just because he desperately needed to know how you felt - and you melting into him was all the answer he needed. But then he had to say goodbye to you far too fast.

Now, the guards have burst into the room, searching feverishly for you who’s long disappeared. He mentions that you used the air vent to escape and leaves through the door. He knows they can never catch up to you in time - you’re far too good.

That sad, insecure girl he knew from his past seems to have changed. You’re a leader of a gang now, the one he’s been fighting and struggling to outsmart for years. If he had known it was you all along, how quickly he would have stolen you away from the fighting and left to live somewhere far away, somewhere peaceful. He would abandon his members, everything he built after all these years in a heartbeat for you. It was never even a question.

But he barely knows if you want the same thing. All that he knows now is that he has to see you again.

He thinks about these things, mind rumbling and turning, as he walks briskly to his meeting. His head still pounds from your headbutt and he catches himself smiling at the thought of it. It’s one ache he doesn’t mind.

He enters the room filled with high ranking members. They wait patiently for him to take his seat at the head of the table.

“So? Any updates?” He asks.

One guard steps forward, the same one that had been searching for you. “Sir, we couldn’t find her. I believe she escaped.”

Internally relieved and unsurprised, he outwardly slams his fist on the table, making everyone jump.

“Damn! Do you know how valuable she would have been alive? The information we could have gotten out of her?” He glares. “And how much of a mess they would have been without their leader?”

The guard ducks his head. “Yes sir. Sorry.”

Another man leans forward in his chair, Juyeon, his close, right hand man. “But we found intel on their next plans. They are raiding the HQ of a much smaller group, If we meet them there, we can catch them by surprise, and take their leader out.”

Hyunjae doesn’t know how to feel. On one hand, he’ll see you again. On the other, you’ll be in danger.

A grunt leaning by a wall says, “I hope we take her out. That bitch deserves that and worse. If I-”

Before he can finish, Hyunjae has him shoved roughly against the wall. His shirt is clutched in Hyunjae’s fist and a knife pressed to his neck. Hyunjae barely registers his rage, the look of fear and shock from everyone around the room, from the man in his grip. His eyes are eyes wide, looking at Hyunjae for an explanation.

Hyunjae rolls with his show. “Less talking. More doing. Talk after you bring her to me. She’s already escaped once from us.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” he sputters out.

Hyunjae releases him from and glares at the room. “We’re done here.”

...

I should have told you I was in love with you before you left.

Those words echo through your mind nonstop, refusing to give you any mercy. And even worse is the memory of the kiss - of his lips pressed against yours, his hands on your skin, his smell - you secretly wish that moment had lasted forever. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, and your heart aches in response.

Then, you rip yourself from your thoughts.

“Ugh!” You yell, slamming your gun onto the table. You’ve tried to assemble it for what seemed like the 50th time in the past ten minutes but your thoughts keep distracting you.

“Y/n?” Your subordinate, Younghoon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “We’re ready to leave.”

You finally manage to click the gun in place. With one last order to your mind to let go of useless thinking, you stand and slip your gun into the holster.  “Let’s go.”

The place you’ve decided to raid has many resources like valuable drugs and money, all hoarded by a smaller group that you can beat out easily. You surprise them, your members jumping out of cars and invading in from all openings of the derelict headquarters.

There’s shouting, scrambling, and finally gunfire. You know this mission will be easy enough - the other group does not have enough people to defend their resources. This will be over before you know it.

At least, that’s what you thought until you spot strange black vans pulling up to the curve outside, men jumping out in large numbers to join the fight. They immediately engage your members with gunfire. You panic, unable to understand what is happening before you catch sight of Hyunjae exiting a van and tucking himself behind the building entrance for shelter against the bullets. He catches your gaze and a number of different emotions pass by his face. He settles on a hesitant smile.

Confusion, then anger rips through you. So much for all those sweet words he spoke yesterday. He’s still fighting you, still trying to kill your members, still prolonging this war. If he wants it that way, then that’s what you’ll give him.

You step out and begin shooting. Chaos seems to erupt with two sizable forces fighting each other inside one building. You can tell that you will not win without a large loss of life.

“Just find whatever you can and go!” You bark at your subordinates. They scramble to obey your orders, grabbing suitcases and locked chests in between the shooting.

Before long, you’re calling them all back from the scene, ordering their retreat. They scramble into the cars you came in. You glance back to see Hyunjae’s men lowering their guns, glancing at him for their next orders - whether to pursue or retreat. However, his gaze is only fixed on you.

Then, he makes a break for it. He runs directly after you without a second glance, without a word to the rest of his group, leaving them stunned in confusion. You would’ve had half a mind to guess that he means to kill you, if it isn’t for the slightly sad expression on his face.

One of your girls steps forward to aim her gun at him. A shock of fear runs through you. “Wait! Stop! Don’t kill him!”

With wide eyes, she obeys and resorts to landing a good punch on Hyunjae’s cheek that sends him tumbling to the ground. Shouts ring out in the air and you see that his members are now running after you.

“Get him into the car! Hurry!”

They do as you order. Soon enough, the party of cars is driving off with Hyunjae’s men trailing behind on foot. They eventually stop and run back into their vans. A car chase ensues through the streets but your smaller cars outrun their bigger vans within minutes. You’re left speeding through the night with a slightly unconscious, groaning Hyunjae in your lap in the backseat.

...

“Does it hurt?”

Hyunjae peers up at you under the dim lighting of your room. You inspect the nasty cut on his cheek, one caused by the punch that took him out.

“I’ve dealt with a lot worse,” he replies, expression unreadable. “Funny how we’re back in the same situation, except...the other way around.”

You know what he means. Last time, you were captured and held in his room as a prisoner. Now, he’s yours, except he came willingly.

You sigh, pouring a bit of rubbing alcohol onto a clean rag. You press it to his cheek and he winces slightly.

“Why did you run after me?” You ask, patting down his skin.

He sighs, eyes running over your face. “Because I wanted to see you.”

You ignore how your stomach flips. “But you left all your men behind, people who depended on you.”

He shrugs.

You scoff, shaking your head as you step back. “You planned that entire raid just to see me? Don’t you care about them? Right now, they’re thinking you’ve gotten captured but really, you ran away.”

“Y/n, I became involved in this filthy life because I had nothing left after I lost you. But now, I found you and…” he trails off, large brown eyes falling on yours. “There’s something more now.”

Your heart thrums but you maintain a frown. “So that’s it? You’d just leave?”

He blinks slowly and smiles. “Yeah. That’s it.”

You carefully place a square piece of gauze on his wound and tape it down. You almost miss his smile, his eyes filled with softness and stars as they gaze at you.

“What is it now?”

He smiles. “Isn’t this familiar?”

You have flashes of memories - cleaning his wounds in the orphanage after he got himself in a fight over your honor.

“Don’t get used to it,” you mutter, tossing a few wrappers in the trash. You move to step away but he’s suddenly standing up, hand shooting out to grip your arm.

“Y/n-“

“Should I remind you that you’re the prisoner in here?” You glare.

His brows are knitted, face forlorn. “You act like you hate me but you don’t really.”

“Oh, I don’t?”

“No, you don’t.” He levels his gaze with you. “You told your gunman not to kill me. You cleaned and dressed my wounds. You kissed me like you’re in love with me-“

“That’s enough,” you growl, tugging harshly away from his grip but he holds onto you tightly.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you I loved you back then,” he says again, and again it flips and cleaves and destroys your heart. His eyes are full of regret. “Maybe you would have stayed.”

He searches your face for something that you’re hesitant and unwilling to give him. Something seems to fade from his eyes as he slowly releases you.

“Or maybe you wouldn’t have.” The smile falls from his lips. “Maybe it was meant to be this way.” He sits back down on your bed. “And maybe I truly was an idiot for getting myself captured by people who want me dead.”

You study his features, twisted in defeat. He’s always been so dependent on your moods, your signs, the words you say to him. He can be emboldened by your subtle signals and just as easily defeated by your rejections. Your heart flips again and you curse it. He really did love you, then and now.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you sigh, earning his attention. “I hated being a burden on you, regardless of... if you loved me or not.”

He gazes at you in such pure confusion that you look away. “Y/n, you were never a burden.”

You feel the sting of tears, a lump forming in your throat. He stands up slowly, steps close to you.

“You were my family-“ he begins.

“You were my family too but you kept getting hurt, kept suffering because of someone so useless as me,” your voice cracks.

His heart seems to break, you can see so in his eyes. He reaches for you tentatively, and you don’t pull away this time. He places a gentle hand on your cheek, gazing deep into your eyes, taking hold of your heart.

“You were never a burden. Never. All those things I did because I loved you,” he says softly. “You could never be a burden.”

Something shatters in your chest and you surge forward to kiss him, tears rolling down your face. He embraces you, eagerly welcomes the kiss, grasps your cheeks as if you are the most precious thing ever.

The kiss is desperate - a release of more than a decade’s worth of repressed love. You’re hypersensitive to the feeling of his lips, his tongue brushing against yours, the deep groans resounding from his chest as you melt in his arms.

“Y/n,” he groans, holding your waist in a tight grip as you pull away, panting for air. His lips attach to your throat, leaving open mouth kisses down the column. Your breaths stutter, fingers curling into his hair. A nip of your skin by his teeth has a light moan slipping past your lips.

He pulls back to gaze at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. His irises swirl with affection mixed with want.

“I- Do you want-“ he manages out, drinking in your gaze, but unable to finish his question.

You swallow thickly, mind racing. Your body is burning with need and longing for him, after so many years. You can only manage out a nod. He presses his forehead against yours.

“I need you to say it.”

You let out a shaky exhale. “I want you.”

He seems to revel in those words before swooping in to kiss you, somehow even more desperate this time. He pulls you gently towards the bed, littering kisses on your lips with breathless words in between.

“Tell me any time if you want to stop, alright?”

You nod. “Okay.”

His eyes twinkle before he kisses you again. You fall back against the sheets. His fingers flit down across your shirt and your pants, stopping to unbutton them. You kick them away impatiently and tug your shirt over your head.

He stares at your semi nude form in awe. He slowly places his hands on the skin of your waist, feeling your skin underneath his fingers.

“Have you had sex before, Hyunjae?” You chuckle.

“You have no idea how long I imagined this,” he whispers, eyes finding yours. “But you’re more beautiful than anything my brain could conjure up.”

Your cheeks burn at the cheesiness but your heart thrums all the same. Then, your mouth goes dry as he reaches and pulls his shirt over his head.

Inch by inch, the deep black ink of tattoos curling across his skin are revealed. His muscles ripple with movement and settle again once he’s cast his shirt away. He gazes at you in anticipation.

You find your voice. “You got tattoos.”

He smiles. “You like them?”

He takes your hand and places it on his stomach. You swallow hard, finger tracing one line of onyx ink. “W-Why would you care if I like them?”

He chuckles. “I care what you like.” He grips your hand softly, entangling his fingers with yours.

You glance at him. “Are you sure you’re a gang leader?”

He smiles and tugs you forward, humming as he kisses you. “You know, you look really hot when you hold a gun.”

You chuckle as his arms wrap around you. “Really?”

“Yeah,” kisses down your throat, hot and open mouthed. “I lost my mind the first time I saw you standing tall, directing orders, shooting.”

You gasp as he grips your ass harshly and sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck at the same time. “I wanted you then and there.”

You can’t respond, your mind slowly descending into the depths of incoherency. He presses you flat against the bed, and leans over you, hips rolling deep against yours. Gasps and moans fall from your lips as he watches, mesmerized.

“I always wanted to hear your moans,” he says breathily, grinding against you. “God, how many nights I’d spend just thinking of you.”

“Hyunjae,” you gasp, grabbing his hips. “You can tone down the love sick puppy-ness.”

He chuckles, a deep low sound that sends tingles straight to your core. “But I can’t help it.” He places a kiss below your heart, trailing down your stomach and your navel, settling between your thighs. “I love you. I have always loved you.”

Warmth floods your chest as you gaze down at him, at his eyes that are filled with affection and the stars of the universe. Then he presses a kiss to your clothed mound and all your thoughts are shattering.

He hooks his fingers under your underwear and drags them down. You shift to sit up on your elbows. “Y-You don’t have to-“

He cuts you off with a disbelieving laugh. “I have waited and imagined every detail of this for years. I can’t not.” He peers up at you. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

You swallow thickly. “N-No. I want to.”

His lips curl into a smile. “Good.”

He removes your underwear, and spreads your thighs around his shoulders. His hot breath meets your core and you release a shaky breath. He gives you one last, heated look, before he’s dragging his tongue across your center, stopping at your clit.

You throw your head back and moan. The sound spurs him on. His hands grip your thighs harder, tongue dipping into your entrance and stealing your sanity. Your ragged breaths turn into gasps and moans, and you involuntarily buck your hips against his face.

He holds you down firmly against the mattress, the muscles in his forearm flexing around your thighs. His eyes burn into yours as another stroke of his tongue sends you reeling.

“H-Hyun,” you gasp out. His eyelids flutter at the sound of his name. He groans into you, shaking you to the core, continuing his ministrations.

You lose your mind slowly. Every movement of his tongue sends you to another dimension. When he pushes a finger inside, you shake and clench and cry out, gasping harshly as he pumps his fingers. He releases a shaky breath against your core when you arch at another finger. A cry and moan crawl up your throat and spill into the air. Your fingers curl into his hair and tug harshly, earning another deep moan from him.

Your mind is descending. He’s kept a slow place so far but is speeding up. Your moans pitch high and the knot in your stomach grows tighter. Just when you’re about to crash, whirl, die and be reborn, everything stops.

His fingers are gone, mouth is gone, his warmth and it's all cold. Your eyelids slip open to find him, kneeling before you, eyes dark, hands tense, slightly shaking. You want to ask why, why he stopped, why he looks as if he’s been wound so tight that he’ll snap.

He wipes his mouth absently, makes the pit of your stomach whirr. He fixes his dark eyes on you.

“I need…” his voice is hoarse. “I need you on top of me, I need to feel you around me.”

You swallow dryly and sit up. A push of his shoulder to the side and he’s rolling onto the bed, head settling upon the pillow. You straddle him easily, as if you belong there. He’s splayed out underneath you, every inch of his skin in reach, every ribbon of muscle, and every inky curl and dip of tattoos across his body, all for you.

You place a hand on his chest, feel him release a sigh and watch your hand dip with his skin with the movement. He is hard underneath you, and you can feel him getting harder.

“So this is how you’ve always imagined it?” You ask, trailing your hand down his skin, under his navel, to stop at his pants button, watching him shudder.

“Yes,” he breathes, eyes closed. You unbutton him, peel his pants off and provide him with some degree of relief. You straddle him again and lean forward to kiss him deeply. He sinks into the kiss, sighs when you move to kiss down his throat, and then trace his tattoos with your lips.

He reaches up to grip your waist. You stop.

“You can't touch.”

He gazes at you, wide eyed. He seems to want to protest but he swallows it and keeps his hands down.

You smile in victory. You hips rock and grind against him, watch him arch in pleasure. His fingers flex and clench the bedsheets beside him. His eyes are heady,  burning into yours, his jaw clenching.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” You ask softly, removing his boxers to feel his hardness in your hands. He makes a muffled sound, refusing to part his lips. “Having someone tell you what to do?” You ask, stroking him slowly, watching a storm of emotions pass his face. “And you can't say anything back?”

You lift your hips up and sink down on him in one movement. There is a pleasurable burn, but you are more focused on the way he tips his head back and groans, his eyelids clenching shut. His fingers twitch against the sheets, his veined arms straining to not touch you.

“And you’re listening so well,” you praise, feeling him stretch you. You release a shaky breath, swallowing a moan.

“Y/n,” he pants. You gasp as you start moving, slowly, almost too slowly at first. After all these years, you want to revel in the feel of him inside you. He releases a broken moan and thrusts up into you in desperation.

You still immediately. “No doing that, either.”

He groans and rolls his head to the side, gazing at you in need, in exasperation. But his hips stay still when you begin riding him again.

Your heart flutters at him listening to you, the head of a mob, who hasn't taken orders from anyone in a long, long time, turning to putty under your hips. You speed up , breaths turning harsh as you roll and bounce your hips against him.

He pants beneath you, a layer of sweat settling on his tattooed skin, his jaw clenching and sheets crumpled into his fists in an effort to hold back. You admire him, beautiful and unholy beneath you. As you palm your own breasts, you take in the sight of his lust filled, darkened eyes watching every movement you make, burning with need to touch you.

Suddenly, his hands are on your waist, gripping the skin as he thrusts up into you. Pleasure explodes from behind your eyelids as you cry out. Somehow, with all your willpower, you remove yourself completely from him. You straddle him further down his thighs, out of reach of his aching cock.

“Y/n,” he straight up whines. His arms reach for you, brows knitted, eyes pleading. “Please.”

Your resolve almost shatters, but you enjoy seeing him like this too much. You merely shake your head and he huffs, resigning himself.

“Will you behave?”

He seems to glare at the ceiling before nodding without a word. Something thrums in your heart. You settle over him and begin the process anew. You like this, seeing him under you, controlling the pace, making love to him. He groans again, and you lean forward to leave open mouthed kisses down his neck, biting the skin so it makes him shudder. Your hips speed up slightly, moaning into the air as his pants. His fingers strain and clench, his eyelids fluttered closed in concentration. You marvel at his self control.

You think of that too late when he thrusts into you once again. When you slow down, he grasps your sides and gives another thrust. You gasp and remove yourself from him but before your warmth can leave his dick completely, he’s rolling you over, flat on your back against the sheets. He harshly rolls his hips against yours.

“Hyun-“ you moan as he gives another thrust, his head tipping back. He picks up pace, hands roaming your body, his self restraint snapping. “I’ve waited for years,” he moans, leaning forward to litter kisses on your neck. “Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

With a bite of your skin, he’s speeding up his thrusts, sending you clawing at his back. He presses his forehead into yours, working his hips in wonders, has you seeing stars, relentlessly, until you cry out his name, clenching hard around him.

“Oh my god,” he groans at your walls milking him. He swallows your moans with his kisses, thrusts into you a few more times until he’s coming with you.

He collapses against you, one lazy arm propped upon the bed so as to not crush you. Your head is swimming, heart thrumming, feeling the tickle of his hair against your cheek as you catch your breath. Pleasure tingles throughout your entire body. He gives a breathless laugh, plants a kiss to your forehead and rolls away to lie on the sheets beside you.

It’s quiet for a heartbeat before he speaks. “Lets run away together.”

You chuckle, “we’re criminals, Hyunjae.”

“So?” he asks, facing you. His eyes are twinkling once again.

You find your words. “So, we can’t just go anywhere. We will always be wanted by the law. Besides, we should have thought of that before getting involved in this stuff.”

He releases a deep exhale. “You were always my dream, my guiding light, whatever I wanted in life. I just became involved in it because I lost you and I ended up here.”

You look at him, silently. “You never say it’s ‘because I left’, only ‘because you lost me,’.”

He blinks at you. “Because I did.” His hand entangles with your own. “I was too afraid to tell you I love you, and so I lost you.”

You squeeze his fingers. “I was… also too afraid to tell you, so I passed off the responsibility to you by asking that question.”

A smile slowly spreads across his lips. “So you’ve always loved me?”

You smile. “Yes, Hyunjae. I’ve always loved you.”

He scoops you into his arms and pulls you close. He litters kisses over every inch of your face, pulling giggles from your lips.

“So since we can’t run away, how about we call a truce between our… groups?”

“Deal.”

He holds out his pinky. You laugh at the old but familiar gesture. You interlace your pinky with his. “Okay, now, deal.”

He giggles, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “I guess you’ll have to let me go so I can convince them.” His brows furrow. “Hopefully they don’t find this place and charge in.” 

“Don’t worry. You haven’t found this place in years, what is one more day?” 

He smiles. “You always were smarter than me.” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Do you think they can wait one more day, though?”

Hyunjae thinks on it. “I’ve waited for 8 years. I think they should’ve learned a thing or two from me.” 

[erensthottie]

Bonnie & Clyde — 1

[Eren Jaeger x black f!reader]

[Song] ‘03 Bonnie & Clyde | Jay Z & Beyoncé

[Warnings] swearing, use of marijuana, act of robbery, a bit of sexual activity, mention of blood

BLRRRRRRR

“WOO! Fuck yeah! Let’s go!” One of the robbers yells as he runs out of the bank smiling big with two duffel bags full of money. Smiling with him, another taller than the first runs behind him to the food truck that the getaway driver awaits in.

Running out with more duffel bags in y’all hands, you and Eren race out to the truck. Helping you in, the robbers take the bags throwing them in, and grabs onto your hands so you can jump into the moving truck.

Just then you guys hear the sound of police sirens blaring from around the bend. Coming at full speed they drift the corner, accelerating to catch up to y’all. Making eye contact with one of the officers, you smirk, blowing them a kiss and a wink before you and Eren close the doors.

“Step on it Alert!” Eren yells to Armin in the driver's seat.

Taking your seats, you sat in Eren’s lap, legging draping over his as you enveloped your arms around his neck full out making out with him. His hands rest on your lower back and outer thigh pulling you close to him, tilting his head to the side, deepening the kiss even more.

“Your so bad you know that?” He smirks at you, slapping you on your thigh making you jump, giggling and smiling pulling him back in.

“What now boss?” One of the robbers asks as he takes off his mask. The same one who ran out first.

“Yeah, boss?” The other one, the taller one adds in.

Eren stops kissing you for a minute, still holding onto you looking at both men.

“Well, Connie… Jean. Now, we celebrate.” He smiles looking back at you.

“What’d you say beautiful?” He rubs your thigh, eyes never leaving yours.

Face getting warm and your body heating up, you softly nod with a low hum, looking right at him, leaning back into him for another kiss which he gladly accepts.

“Yeah!” Everyone cheers.

“Yes sir.” The men voice, bowing and taking their half into their duffel bag.

“Sir, the chef has informed me that dinner is prepared and ready.” A man with freckles told to Eren.

“Sir, the chef has informed me that dinner is prepared and ready.” A man with freckles told to Eren.

He grunts and makes his way to the route of the master bedroom which you currently stayed.

“You guys can take a plate, me and Y/n will take our share later.” He says as he walks over to the elevator down the hall. Getting in, he presses the third floor and leans back on the railing.

“Beautiful?” He calls as he walks into the living room from the elevator making his way to the room.

“Yes, darling?” You walk out, leaning against the door frame in a small lingerie dress that barely covered your thighs and ass.

Eren's eyes widen and his face turns red as he stops in his tracks. Dropping the bag, Eren lowers his head smiling, tongue poking his cheek while he scratches his chin. He slowly tilts his head back, with low eyes and inspecting your beautiful and amazing body in the sensual and seductive outfit.

"You know," he starts as he untucks his dress shirt, undoing the buttons on it then throwing it somewhere in the living room making his way toward your direction.

"You really are something right. This all for me beautiful?"

Eren unbuckles his belt allowing it to cascade to the wood tiles. Only inches away from you know, he wraps an arm around your body and pulls you close enough, placing a hand on the back of your neck guiding you to lean into the kiss.

You both makeout, entangled in each other pleasure blindly navigating through the room and successfully finding the bed tumbling right onto it while being able to not break the kiss.

"The things that you do to me. It makes me crazy, makes me fucking mad. I want you, I need you, I need your love and your body so bad. Let me make love to you. Let me hold you and tell you everything you crave hear while I go into your deepest places till I reach that sweet, sweet womb of yours and make you cum over and over on my dick. The same one that you love and cherish with your life." Eren slowly grinds his hips into yours, lips moving down your neck leaving open kisses in their waking.

"Will you let me do that beautiful? Do you permit me to reclaim you over and over again? Tell you I love you? Cum deep into your wet and tight pussy that I love and adore with all my life? Will you?"

Overwhelmed with all the oversensitivity and the burning pit deep in your stomach, you desperately nod your head as you repeat, "Yes... yes, yes, yes. Please~"

<3

"Nah Jaeger, you cheatin' out here." Connie says as Eren puts down a draw four card on the deck in the center of the table.

"No I ain't," he smirks taking a puff of the blunt before passing it onto Armin.

"I'm simply just playing the game Con."

"Cap! Y/n can't be helping you pick out your cards, that's straight bull." Jean points to you settled behind Eren's chair, giggling, eyes red and lidded as you stick your tongue out at him only for him to respond with a playful gasp and clutch chest.

"Oh please, Y/n could do whatever she feels like horseface." Eren quips leaning his head back to wink at you.

"Hey! I don't have a horseface you pigeon." Jean claps back.

Everyone including you burst out in laughter, unable to hold it in being that you all are under the influence.

“Marco, it's your turn.” Connie softly nudged at the man spaced out after putting his card down.

Marco blinks a few times to stop himself before looking at the cards in his hand and selected two number five cards, or what he thought were two six cards.

“Ayo, yo, pick up two fo’ your mistake!” Jean says as he starts to pull out cards for him.

“Huh? How?” he protests.

“Fuck is this?” Armin picks up the yellow six and nine card that he had put down.

“Ohhh.”

“Ohhhhh.” Jean mocked.

“Leave me alone, I'm smacked aight?” Marco explains taking the cards from Jean.

“Uno,” Eren says wiggling his last card in between his fingers.

Armin went a place down and a red draw two, leaning back in his chair with a smile, taking another puff before pasting the blunt to Jean “Uno.”

Eren daps him up telling him ‘that's what's up.’

“How the fuck y'all got Uno already?” Jean takes a hit inhaling picking out his cards and putting them down before passing on the blunt to Connie.

Taking his turn with the blunt and cards, he skipped Marco and Eren pointing to Armin to go.

Eren gives him a death look and shakes his head.

“Hey, it's just how the game is played.” he put his hands up passing the blunt to Marco who was once again spaced out.

“Dude, just go to sleep, Y/n will take over for you.” Connie shakes him back to consciousness.

“Yeah, I'll take ‘em for you.” you smile and take his cards taking his place in the chair before hugging him goodnight.

“Another hit Y/n?”

You nod taking the blunt from Connie and taking a deep inhale of the smoke and holding it before exhaling it out through your nose.

“Ou, he got some good cards,” you say sorting out the cards in your hand before you put down four skips.

“WOW!!” Jean and Connie say in unison.

“That's what we doin’ now beautiful?” Eren looks at you, holding the card to his chin.

“As Connie said before, that's just how the game is played.” you retort sending him a kiss.

“Hey, hey. Don't put me in this.” Connie said.

“I’ma getchu back don't worry.” Eren declares.

“Threat or a promise?” you test him.

“Take it how you wanna beautiful.” he jerks his eyebrow.

“If y’all wanna fuck just say da, damn.” Armin snarky remarks make Jean and Connie fall out of their chairs laughing.

“Shuddup Armin.” you joke laughing along.

Continuing with the game, you place down a reverse card making the rotation go counterclockwise. Connie went and put down a plus two to which Jean added another one. Armin then grinned at them putting down his last card, draw four saying ‘uno out’.

All eyes on Eren he looks back at everyone before looking at you.

“I told you I'll get you back right?”

Without saying more words he placed down a draw four on top of Armin’s. Everyone in the group gasps and ooh’s while they look between you and Eren.

“Pick up eight beautiful.” he says as he caresses your cheek.

You gasp, “Oh my God, noooo.”

“It doesn't work like that baby.” you say as you kiss his hand putting down an additional draw four card making the total 12.

From across you, you heard someone stifle their laugh, snorting in the process. You turn to see Armin with his hand over his mouth face slowly turning red from now breathing. He shakingly points his finger towards Connie’s direction. You turn in confusion and see him with a straight face, looking at the pile of cards.

“Connie…”

Everyone except him and you die of laughter, toppling over. He softly places the cards on the table, scooting his chair out, rising and walking away.

“No, No Connie wait!! I’m sorry!” you try your hardest not to laugh, trailing behind him, slightly stumbling from feeling high. He didn't answer only continuing to walk till he walked to his room, entering and softly closing his door.

“FUCK!!”

Y'all hear him yells at the top of his lungs and you laugh even harder than before. It's probably the hardest that y'all ever laughed in your life. You're laid out on the floor, holding your stomach as tears come out of your eyes and you buffer in place silently laughing. Eren laughing loudly head held back stomping his feet on the floor. Jean once again on the floor also laid out like you, shaking in laughter and he screams out with laughter, having that Windex bottle laugh. Armin jumping in his chair, wheezing and crying once in a while snorting loud as hell.

“Did something happen?” Marco voiced.

He was in front of y'all, rubbing his eyes in his oversized onesie with his blanket wrapped around him. That only made everyone succumb to laughter. Armin fell out of his chair onto the floor, Eren slouched in his chair in an uncomfortable position, Jean face down into the carpet and you on your back in an almost starfish position.

Marco freaks out, runs to each of your sides to check up on you only to be met with snores and soft breathing. Y'all laughed yourselves to sleep, who the fuck does that shit? Being as caring as he is, Marco uses the couch cushions and places them under each of the guy's heads, and covered them with blankets, even leveling Eren’s legs so he could be more comfortable. He picks you off the ground being sure not to wake you up and puts you on the big couch right by Eren covering you with a blanket as well.

He cleans up and puts out the rest of the light blunt in the ashtray and packs up the Uno cards. Turn off the light and whispers goodnight before leaving to his room.

All rights reserved to @erensthottie

Reblogs are allowed

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Tear in the Fabric

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, fingering, oral, binding.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and dark!Clark Kent and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Universes collided as a malfunction brings an unexpected visitor.

Note: This is my first DC/Superman fic and a rare crossover fic. I really hope y’all like it but tbh it’s filth.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your office shook. Rather, quaked. The glass vase in the corner broke on the table and a flash rippled through the air. You clung to your desk to keep from falling out of your chair. You waited a moment as an eerie lull followed. Then voices and rushed footsteps followed.

You got up and followed the several other bodies towards the labs. You were of the dozen or so people permitted beyond the doors and you slipped past the rest of the confused employees of Stark Tower. Natasha met you at the door and you both peered inside, the door at your feet.

Peter was in a heap, another body beside his. He groaned as he rolled over beside the other man and screamed as he faced him. He scrambled away and pushed himself against the wall. Nat grabbed your arm and you looked at each other. The man on the floor was unfamiliar and peculiarly dressed. He fell flat on his back and his eyes opened.

“Parker, what did you do?” Tony pushed between you and Nat as he strode in. His hair was askew as he straightened his tie.

The dark-haired stranger sat up and was on his feet so quick, Tony and Peter flinched. Nat stepped inside, ready to fight, and you lingered by the door. He was tall, broad, and he wore dark blue gear with a red cape slung from his shoulders. His blue eyes flashed as he spun in bewilderment. His hands were fist, as ready as Nat for conflict.

“I was just-- I--”

“Who are you people?” The man asked. “Where am I?”

“Calm down, Schwarzenegger,” Tony raised his hands. “We’re all friends here… and we’re wondering the same about you.”

“I’m…” The man’s eyes bounced from person to person. “...Superman?”

“Are you asking me?” Tony scoffed and brushed past him. “Kid, what did you?”

“I was just… looking at the particles--”

“Looking?! And maybe some touching?” Tony shouted. “I told you they’re not toys.”

“I know. I was just-- I figured something out and--”

“Broke every window on the floor!” Tony interjected. “And zapped in Adonis 3000 over here for good measure.”

“Um,” The dark-haired man looked around. “Can someone please tell me where I am?”

“New York. Stark Tower.” Tony hissed over his shoulder as he stormed towards Peter.

You glanced over as you heard footsteps echo behind you. Steve, Bucky, and Sam were nearly tripping over each other and skidded to a halt in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” You kept your voice down. “Peter--”

“Peter, of course,” Bucky huffed as he crossed his arms.

“Who’s the muscle man?” Sam nodded to the stranger as he stared with consternation at one of Tony’s contraptions.

“Good question,” You passed through the door and Steve caught your arm. 

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Well, since Tony can only manage to yell at the kid, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

“He could be dangerous,” Steve said quietly.

“And I’ve got the most dangerous heroes all around me.” You brushed his hand from your arm. “I think if he meant to do something, he’d already have.”

The man seemed even bigger the closer you got. As you neared, you recalled you were the only one in the room without combat training, a special suit, or enhanced abilities. You were just the one who did the paperwork to clean up after all the rest. You cleared your throat.

“Um, hello,” You tried to smile and the man turned to you, blue eyes blazing. “That’s a, uh, nice cape. Were you by chance at a costume party or--”

“I’m Superman.” He repeated, this time firmer. He looked at you as if you were dumb.

“Yes, okay, well you are at Stark Tower… in New York? Where are you from?”

“Metropolis,” He spoke again with the same obvious tone. “Stark Tower? Never heard of it.”

“Tony Stark?” You blinked. “He runs Stark Industries.”

“Ah, like Wayne Industries,” He said. “Maybe he knows Bruce.”

“Wayne Industries?” You wondered. “What’s--”

“In Gotham City. Bruce Wayne; the world’s most infamous playboy?” He said with venom.

“Actually that’s my title,” Tony turned as he finally quit berating Peter. “Never heard of this Wayne guy.” 

The man scowled and turned to Tony. “Well, you sound like him.’

“I hate to break it to you, beefcake, but you’re a long way from home.” Tony crossed his arms. “Without precise data, I’d surmise a few thousand dimensions away.”

“Dimensions? That’s--”

“Look, I could go into the science of it but I think that might be a bit over your head. To put it simply, we have these magical little particles that can affect the fabric of space and time. Maybe throw us back a few years here or there but it seems my… protege here decided to go sideways instead of backwards or forwards.” Tony explained. “What I’m trying to say is that whoever you are, Capeman or whatever, well, this isn’t the world you’re used to saving.”

“But you ended up in the right place,” Nat intoned. “Seems we have the same interests in mind.”

“Keeping people safe,” Steve added. “Right?”

“Of course,” The caped stranger spun around. “Forgive me if this isn’t a bit… unbelievable.”

“Buddy, I wish I could say it was just a dream,” Tony sighed. “Or a nightmare. However you wanna see it. The good news is, if I can get the kid to do exactly what he just did, we might be able to send you back.”

“Well, um, Mr. Stark…” Peter piped up from behind him. “I kinda… well, the stabilizer isn’t… working anymore.”

“Someone get the kid out of here,” Tony pinched his nose. “Please. I can’t look at him. I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten and he better be gone.”

“What does that mean?” The strange man asked. “Stabilizer?”

“It means,” Tony ignored Peter as he was ushered out by Natasha. “That you’re stuck here for a while… hopefully not forever.”

“Stuck?”

“Don’t worry. We’re not gonna toss you out on the street to terrorize the public.” Tony assured. “We’re just going to--”

The man raised his index finger and touched his temple as he hushed everyone. His forehead wrinkled as he listened and his hand formed a fist. He was suddenly gone as he darted out in a blur of blue and red; a speeding, flying blur.

You looked around as Tony stood with his mouth open and the three men around the door grimaced. Steve frowned and turned to rush out after him. You followed but barely reached the end of the hall, where others watched from the other side of the clear walls. The lot of you were stopped by the reappearance of the man in a furious gust.

“What the hell was that about?” Stark snorted as he caught up.

“Robbery. Ten blocks down. Suspect subdued, waiting for police.” The man confirmed with an arched brow.

“Tony,” Sam turned to look at his boss. 

Tony nodded begrudgingly.

“So, Superman, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind cooling it while we try to figure out how to get you back home?”

“Cooling it?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t stop you from saving this world,” Tony chuckled. “Just… try to loosen up.”

“Mmm,” The man grumbled. “I’ll try.”

Tony winked at you and beckoned to the three other men. You knew that look; ‘take care of it’. Bucky and Sam crossed to Tony and Steve squinted at you before reluctantly following. You turned back to the stranger who called himself Superman and held out your hand and introduced yourself.

“Guess it doesn’t matter so much if you know my name,” He took your hand in his large one. “Clark. Clark Kent. Reporter.”

“Oh,” You smiled. “I always wondered what it’d be like to be a reporter.”

“Boring, most days,” He shrugged. “What do I do now?”

“Well, it’s kinda my job to get you situated.” You turned halfway between him and the other men. “Tony is the one you were talking to, the blond is Steve, the one in the middle is Bucky, and then you have Sam. Natasha was the one who took the kid, Peter out. And there’s a few more back at the compound.”

“Compound?” He wondered.

“Most of the Avengers live there. For response purposes, in case of emergency, they need to be able to mobilise,” You explained.

“You’re not an… Avenger?” He asked.

“I’m… a glorified babysitter and some would call me little more than a secretary,” You shook your head. “But no, not one of them.”

“Hmm,” He lowered his chin and thought. You peeked over at the others and Steve’s gaze met yours before it strayed to the large man across from you. “Well, where do we begin?”

“I’ll have to figure that out,” You replied. “Just this way.”

💥

One week. One week and it was a shit show. Tony still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the stabilizer, even with Banner’s help, and Peter was in virtual exile. You were left to watch over your visitor and the rest of the lot. For the most part, they were friendly but wary. All except one who seemed entirely suspicious of the man in the red cape.

The very one sat across from you. Steve stared at the tablet as you went through his last mission report and the numbers attached to the collateral. You hated it but Tony demanded it and you knew it wasn’t for his own needs. He had government agencies and the military breathing down his neck every day.

You leaned on your elbow as you went through your usual schtick, scribbling down Steve’s explanation and aligning them with the events noted in the report. You were roused by the knock that killed the drone of Steve’s voice. Your door opened and you smiled at Clark as he peered through shyly.

“Sorry, to interrupt. I guess I’m early. I’ll just wait out here.”

“It’s fine. We’re almost done,” You replied. “It’ll be about five minutes.”

“Thanks,” He backed up and shut the door.

You looked at Steve as he crossed his arms and frowned.

“Why’s he here?”

“Tony’s thinking about giving him missions. He’s going to be given access to training rooms and I told him I’d show him around the Tower.” You explained. “Anyways, the factory--”

“Oh? You and him… you his chaperone now?”

“As much as I am yours,” You half-sang. “Steve, let’s just get this done with.”

“We don’t know him. We don’t know if he is who he says he is.”

“I think we would know by now.” You countered.

“Wherever he’s from, how do we know he’s a good guy there?”

“How does he know we’re the good guys?” You returned. “Steve, come on. He’s… nice.”

“To you,” Steve said pointedly.

“And you?” You wondered.

Steve shrugged. He tapped his fingers on his leg and huffed.

“A car was diverted through the factory wall so that I could keep a civilian from getting hit instead. I did my best to aim it away from the building but was able to prevent casualties.” Steve recited. “Human life is worth more than concrete.”

“Mmhmm,” You stared at him a moment before you wrote down his explanation. “Alright, then, I guess we’re done.”

“I can show him around,” Steve stood. “If you want. You must be busy.”

“I need to register him in the system--”

“So do it. I’ll give him the tour.” Steve insisted. “I’ll give him a chance.”

“You sure?” You asked. 

“Eh, we could use a fourth on poker night,” Steve said. “And you can catch up on work.”

“Deal.” You closed the folder and slid the tablet aside. “You’ll see, Steve. He’s a good guy.”

Steve pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’m sure.” He neared the door and grabbed the handle. “If you say so.”

💥

You strode through the halls of the Tower on your way to drop off your weekly rundown to Tony. Your eye was caught as you passed by the transparent wall of the Tower gym. At the compound, there were several but a few people used that at the Tower when they had business on site. You stopped and turned to find Clark waving at you through the plexiglass

You let yourself in and crossed to him as he sat on the weight bench. His thick muscles peeked out from beneath his grey tank as he smiled up at you.

“I haven’t seen you much lately,” He greeted.

“Yeah, lots of work,” You waved the folder in your hand. “How’s life in the compound?”

“Different. Still.” He said. “Tony says it should be much longer.”

“You miss home?” You asked.

“Well… sometimes. A lot happened before I ended up here that makes me think, well, maybe I’m better off.”

“I’m sorry,” You said. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No, it’s… nice to have someone actually ask me how I’m doing.” He stood and went to the bar, carefully unscrewing the large weights. “Everyone here is nice, I guess, but… you’re nicer.”

“Heh, well, that’s half my job,” You chimed. “Smiling in the face of adversity.”

“I don’t think I’m very good at that,” He laughed and you both looked over as the door opened. “Not at all.”

“Hey, Steve,” You called to the new arrival.

“Hey,” He was evasive as he went to another machine.

“Case and point,” Clark placed the weights on the rack one at a time as he spoke.

“What?” You looked over at Steve again then back to Clark. “I thought-- didn’t he show you around the other day?”

“Oh yes, he did,” Clark finished up and clapped his hand on his shorts. “He told me how things were around here.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve done it--”

“I can take care of myself,” Clark assured you. “It was nothing. Can I walk you to… wherever you’re going?”

“Sure,” You smiled as he grabbed his bag. “I… I interrupted, though.”

“If you don’t mind my sweat, I don’t,” He affirmed. 

He opened the door for you and you glanced back at Steve as he sat on the squat machine. He looked back at you and lifted a brow. You smiled and his gaze flicked over to Clark and he scowled. You hid your confusion and continued down the hall. 

You’d never seen Steve like that; usually you admired how amiable he could be. Always smiling, always helpful. Perhaps Peter had done more than tear a hole in the universe.

💥

It was rare that you weren’t kept late on Friday. Even more unexpected that Steve would invite you to a movie. Sure, it was a pastime that you, along with Bucky, Sam, and sometimes Nat, would get together for, but it was so last minute you felt entirely unprepared. As you had felt for much of the last few weeks.

As you headed out from the Tower, you found yourself diverted by the scene you found in the hallway. Clark stood, hands in pocket, reading a glass plaque on the wall. There were several through the offices; each explained a different milestone in Stark Industries. He leaned closer and adjusted his glasses; those were Clark’s, not Superman’s he clarified.

You neared quietly and gripped your bag. “Learn anything interesting?”

“Not particularly,” He stopped reading and turned to you. “I like Tony, despite the obvious but… well, I don’t think anyone could ever like him as much as he likes himself.”

“He prefers people to think so,” You said. “What are you doing here?”

“They said they might have fixed the machine or whatever,” He explained. “They didn’t. The particles… They need more of those too. Said something about calling someone to get more? I don’t know, they seem to think I’m too stupid to understand any of it. You know, even my earth isn’t my home. I just happened to fall there… like I did here.”

“Krypton,” You offered. He’d told you a little about it, not much. “I’m sorry you--”

“I don’t miss it. I never knew it.” He shrugged. “I think what’s bugging me is I don’t even miss the place I should. My earth; Metropolis.”

“You had parents there?”

“Had…” He frowned.

“Anyone else?” You prodded.

“At one time but she-- Sometimes things just don’t work out.” He gave a grim smile.

You were silent for a moment. You looked over at the plaque, at the translucent outline of the helmet that topped the famous Iron Man suit. You fidgeted and glanced back at Clark.

“You wanna see a movie?”

“A movie?” His brows drew together.

“Yeah, kinda something we like to do around here when we’re not crammed in here like ants in a hill,” You said. “Bucky, Steve, Sam; they should all be there.”

“Ah,” He nodded hesitantly. “Well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Is it Steve? Don’t worry about him. I’m inviting you as my guest.”

“Well, in that case,” He smiled, genuinely that time.

You nodded down the hall and he gestured you ahead of him, following with his arm almost against yours.

“You know, you and Steve, you got a lot in common.” You said. “Now I’m not saying you have to be best friends but he was once you. One day, he was back in the forties and the next he’s stranded in the next century. I always thought it sounded lonely.”

“Really?” Clark asked. “I never… I didn’t know that.”

“Bucky too but… that’s a long story,” You led him to the elevators and hit the button. “I know they’re stubborn, always have been but I think you’ll see, you’re a lot more alike than you think.

💥

You walked into the movie theatre, staring at your phone as you texted Steve to let him know you were there. Clark grabbed your arm before you could collide with another moviegoer and you thanked him as you awaited a response. You stood awkwardly near the entrance, watching the scores of people and adrift in the smell of popcorn.

“Arcade,” Steve finally replied. “Claw machine.”

You told Clark to follow and dove into the crowd. You followed the current to the arcade and broke off. You stepped past the racing game and the electronic poker and spotted Steve’s broad shoulders as he fought with the stick of the machine. You neared as he bent to grab his prize from the open door beneath.

“Hey,” You chimed.

“Hey, just in time,” He turned with the stuffed rabbit in hand, “This is for--”

His voice died as his eyes settled on Clark. He grimaced and cleared his throat. 

“For you.” He finished and kept his glare above you. “Clark.”

“Thanks,” You took it hesitantly. “Where is everyone else?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“I thought… Oh, well, I just, we usually, all of us,” You found it hard to complete a sentence. “I invited Clark so he wouldn’t be alone and--”

“Cool. That’s cool.” Steve said tersely. “I was waiting to ask you what you wanted to see so… didn’t get tickets yet.”

You smiled and looked down at the rabbit. You realised you might have misread Steve’s text. Yet you didn’t want to assume he meant this as anything more than your usual friendly get together either. You were certain he was just mad that Clark was there because for whatever reason, he just didn’t like him.

“Well, what’s playing?” You asked.

“The only thing still available is that horror movie, Crimson, or that comedy about the mime.” He said. “I’m not big on scary movies but--”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect ya, buddy,” Clark chuckled. “I think a scary movie might be fun.”

“Do you?” Steve challenged.

“Alright, alright, you two, let’s go grab some tickets, maybe some snacks, and calm down,” You urged. “Do you think you can make it through two hours?”

“Easily,” Clark grinned.

“It’s not a problem,” Steve uttered stiffly. “I’ll grab the tickets, why don’t you wait by the gate?”

You gave a pathetic smile and grabbed Clark’s arm. Steve’s eye caught the movement before he stepped away with a scowl. You dragged Clark away and past the rows of game towards the admissions stall. You hovered there, releasing him only to wring your hands together.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-- It’s usually a whole lot of us,” You said nervously. “I just don’t know what his problem is. He’s usually so nice and--”

“Ego.” Clark said. “I’ve dealt with it before. He’s the big hero, he’s used to being the best, the one in charge. He doesn’t like that I don’t bow to every demand. That his buddy Stark doesn’t make me.”

“I don’t… know,” You looked over as Steve neared. “Just promise me you’ll try to be nice even if he’s not.”

“For you,” He said. “Of course.”

💥

You usually enjoyed the previews but not that night. On either side of you sat a large, tense, and silently fuming man. You felt trapped between them as their arms took up much of the armrests. You held an extra large popcorn that no one seemed interested in and stared up dumbly as the deep voice announced upcoming titles. You should have just gone home and stared at the ceiling. That would be more enjoyable than this.

Then the theatre went silent as the screen turned black. The sonorous soundtrack droned before the screen lit up again. A mosaic walkway with lines of blood running along the cracks. Slowly the camera panned in until the entire screen was a sickly shade of red and the word Crimson appeared in large black letters, the music stopping on a high, terrifying note.

You really wish you had argued for the comedy. Yeah, it would’ve been stupid but with your anxiety already running high, you’d rather roll your eyes than bite your tongue. 

Twenty minutes in, you rolled up the top of the popcorn bag and set it on the floor. A waste of overpriced kernels but the gory scenes made you anything but hungry. You winced and flinched as the movie carried on and felt a subtle shift from your left. 

Steve’s hand fluttered over yours and he squeezed. You looked over at him and smiled. He leaned in until his arm was flush against you.

From your right, another subtle movement. It was until Clark’s arm slipped down from the top of your seat and dropped over your shoulders that you realised what was going on. He whispered in your ear. “Spooky, huh?”

You nodded as you were trapped in the hot tension of their bodies. You blinked and focused on the screen but you couldn’t decipher the words of the characters, barely even registered their screams. Clark played with the shoulder of your shirt as Steve’s thumb brushed over your skin. You didn’t like whatever battle they had declared.

💥

After the movie, you walked out and shoved the bag of cold popcorn in the trash. Steve was ahead of you and Clark behind you. As you came out in the cool night air, you shivered but basked in the refreshing chill it sent up your spine. The two men were silent.

“Did you like the movie?” You asked, suffocating in their wordless standoff.

“It was alright.” Steve muttered. “Bloody.”

“I liked it,” Clark said. “Been a while since I’ve been to the theatre.”

You nodded and dug your heel into the pavement. You glanced up at the streetlight and down the tarmac at the shine of yellow and white.

“I should get a cab,” You said quietly.

“Here,” Steve raised his hand to hail a taxi. “I’ll share. Make sure you get home safe.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Clark insisted. “Besides, it’s you and me who are headed to the same place.”

“You never know in New York,” Steve watched a cab pull up and open the door. “Nothing wrong with making sure.”

“It’s fine,” You raised your hands in a plea. “Really. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. You two just go… home.”

Clark gave a crooked smile and Steve frowned as he gripped the top of the open cab door. You got in looked up at them. 

“Good night,” You grabbed the door. “I’ll see you two on Monday.”

“Night,” Steve’s hand dropped and he backed away.

“Good night,” Clark called to you. “Let me know when you get home safe.”

“Will do,” You said as you pulled the door closed. 

You sighed and gave the cabbie your address before letting your head flop back against the leather seat. You couldn’t decide who was dumber; you or them.

💥

Monday came and you had a peculiar butterfly flapping around in your stomach. Friday night hung over you like a shadow. The thought of facing either man was unpromising. The idea of facing them together was worse and made you squirm. There was something you were missing and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Or you were just being willfully and stubbornly ignorant.

But at the Tower, neither of them appeared. Well, they didn’t need to be there everyday. They probably got more done at the compound with its bigger and more accommodating facilities. You were thankful for the unexpected respite. Still, you were anxious. There was always Tuesday.

You buried yourself in paperwork and spent a little too long on the phone with intelligence. You skipped your lunch and by the end of the day, you were thoroughly exhausted. Yet you still had work to do. A lot of work. So you hunkered down for a few hours of overtime and went over field reports as you paced around your office, trying to stretch out the kinks in your legs.

You were startled by a knock. The Tower had grown quiet, most of the employees gone, even Tony as he had plans with Pepper. You slid the folder onto your desk and went to the door. Clark beamed at you from the other side.

“You’re here late,” He said.

“You too,” You stuck your head out and peered up and down the hallway. “I didn’t know you were even here.”

“Well, you know, the compound can be a bit… much so I come here at night to work out.” He said. “It helps me relax.”

“Oh,” You looked up at him confused.

“I just… I could hear you walking around in here and if you need a break, I’ll be in the gym. That’s all.” He said.

“Okay,” You nodded. “Sure, um…” You glanced back at the office. “Maybe I’ll take a break now. I could use it.”

“Alright,” He said happily. “Well, um,” He rubbed his neck as he backed up. “Should I lead the way?”

You stepped out into the hallway and looked down towards the next. He turned and you followed just behind him. You frowned as you realised he wasn’t really dressed for the gym. Well, maybe he still needed to change. You kept on, happy at least to be out of your stuffy office for the first time all day.

He opened the gym door and you stepped through, only noticing that another was already there as the door clicked shut behind you. Steve sat, hands together, on the weight bench. He wore a tee shirt and jeans. Like Clark, he didn’t look as if he meant to use the equipment. You spun to looked back at Clark.

“Um, what’s going on?” You asked. “You two--”

“We have our differences,” Steve said from behind you. You turned back to him as he stood. “That much we’ve figured out but we’ve also found that we have one glaring thing in common.”

You narrowed your eyes, dizzy and you looked between them.

“You,” Clark said.

Your heart dropped. You gulped, speechless. Then you laughed. It was unbelievable. Ridiculous. You were misunderstanding them.

“Funny?” Clark asked and you choked on your giggles.

“Well, which one is it?” Steve asked.

“What do you--” You blinked. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

“Friends?” Steve scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“Is this a game to you?” Clark asked. “Huh, you like to lead the boys on and then act innocent when they want more.”

“No, I never-- I was just being nice,” You snapped. “I don’t-- We saw a movie and-- I didn’t do anything to--”

“You didn’t stop anything either,” Steve stepped closer and Clark mirrored him. “Would you have? If my hand had slipped a little lower? Or his?”

“You two… this isn’t funny anymore.” You spun between them as they closed in.

“Choose,” Clark said. “Him or me? It’s obvious you want one of us.”

You were silent. You picked at your nail as you looked back and forth between them. 

“Or both?” Steve smirked and his eyes met the other man’s over your head. “I mean, you’ve been trying to make peace between us. What better way?”

“I…” You shuddered. “I got work to--”

You tried to sidestep Clark and he caught you around the waist. He flung you back and you collided with Steve. His arm wrapped around you as you struggled with him. You stomped his foot but he merely grunted and Clark neared as you kicked out at him.

“Stop, stop!” You cried. “I didn’t mean for-- You’ve misunderstood-- I never--”

“Shhhh,” Clark caught your feet and you hung between the two men. “It’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“The opposite, in fact,” Steve added as they moved you to the weight bench and forced you across it.

“Hold her still,” Clark flicked your heels off and they bounced across the floor. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s not play this game.”

“Steve,” You gasped as you looked up at the man holding down your shoulders. “Steve, please, why are you--”

He slid his arm across your chest and smothered you with his palm. Your legs flailed and Clark trapped them between his as he stood over you on the bench and tugged at the waist of your skirt, busting the zipper as he tore it past your thighs. You writhed as the fabric fluttered to the floor and he grabbed your panties. He slipped them down your legs, past the sheer thigh highs and the dropped atop your skirt.

“Don’t let her up,” Clark ordered and left you to kick against the bench. 

He returned with a skipping rope and wound it around your waist and arms, securing you to the bench. He nodded to Steve who ripped open the front of your blouse, the fabric pushed back over your shoulders to bare your bra. He snapped the front of it and it fell away from your chest, agape like your open shirt. 

Clark grabbed another skipping rope and wound it around your shoulders and neck. Steve let you go and you squirmed against the tight rubber cords.

“Please,” You begged.

“Do you want me to shut her up or--?” Steve asked.

“I thought you called the shots around her,” Clark snapped as he removed his glasses.

“Do I?” Steve neared him. “If it was up to me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be drooling like a lovesick puppy,” Clark sneered. “Shut her up, then.”

Steve snickered and turned away from him. He winked at you as he neared and undid the front of his jeans. You grunted as you tried to roll off the bench but only caused the rope to dig deeper into your flesh. You pushed your feet onto the bench and kicked, trying to break the ropes. Nothing.

Steve came around your head and pushed open the denim. He rolled his jeans down with his briefs as he pulled himself out, stroking his already hard cock. You shook your head, barely able to as the rope squeezed your neck. He gripped your chin tightly, pressing until you opened your mouth with a whimper.

He bent his knees and shoved himself inside. You gagged around him as he forced his cock down your throat. Your body spasmed at the suddenness of the intrusion and your fingers clawed at the bench. He pulled back but not for long as he slid back in, your throat contracting around him.

“Mmmm,” Clark purred as he wrenched your legs apart and sat between them. He dragged his fingers along your folds. “So sweet… well, that’s what you like people to think, isn’t it?”

You could only groan around Steve as Clark teased you. Rubbing you until you felt the wetness spread. He poked a thick finger inside of you and your legs tensed against him. Your legs were trapped against his as he held them wide apart with his knees. He added another finger as Steve pushed himself as deep as he could go.

“You just gonna play with her all night?” Steve rutted down your throat between thick breaths.

“I’ll do what I want,” Clark clasped your thigh roughly with his other hand. 

He turned his fingers and curled them. A pressure built at his fingertips. You were ashamed of how easily your body responded to him. You gripped the side of the bench as it seemed to strain beneath you.

Clark hummed and drew his hand away. You couldn’t see him but could hear him suck his fingers. It added to the sickness that curdled your stomach as Steve fucked your mouth. The sloppy noises that came from you echoed across the airy gym.

The bench shifted as you sensed movement at the other end. Clark lifted your legs and slid closer. He rested your ankles against his shoulders as his hand brushed your cunt, then his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, poked inside a little, then pulled out. 

He slicked himself along your folds, rubbing against you and once more pressed himself to your entrance. He sank inside of you slowly. He let out a long groan and the deeper he got, the louder he grew. He jolted you as he lost his patience and impaled you entirely. 

Steve’s cock poked the back of your throat as he bent over you and sped up once more. Clark began to thrust from your other end, your walls stretched around him painfully, and you arched your back against the tension of the ropes. You were lightheaded, barely able to breathe, your eyes rolled back as you quivered between the men.

The heat bloomed within you, building and building, the fire flowed through your veins as the room faded away. You shuddered and gasped for breath around Steve’s cock. Large hands clung to your thighs and lifted your ass just slightly as Clark hammered into you harder and harder.

You legs shook at the sudden snap inside of you. You unraveled in an instant and murmured as you spasmed wildly atop the bench. Your orgasm washed away all your fear and doubts and your lips hugged Steve’s cock even snugger as it slid in and out of your mouth.

Then it stopped. All of it. The ropes loosened and you were suddenly very empty. The only bound that remained was that around your neck which grew tight. You opened your eyes as they turned you onto your stomach. Your arms and legs dangled over the sides of the bench and the rope, a noose at your throat, drew taut as your head was forced up.

Clark held the other end of the skipping rope as he poked at your lips. He slid his cock into your mouth and down your throat. Steve settled behind you and titled your pelvis as he felt around for your entrance. His cock filled you swiftly as he slid closer. His hands gripped your hips as he began to slam into you, forcing Clark’s cock further down your throat.

“Fuck,” Steve snarled as he crashed into you over and over, jerking your entire body as he did.

“She’s… good,” Clark breathed as pulled the rope tighter. “Very… good.”

“Shit, I’m almost there,” Steve slapped your ass as you began to quake again. “Look at her, she’s cumming again.”

“Mmm, such a good girl,” Clark’s large hand grasped your head as he hammered into you. “Yeah, oh, that’s it.”

Suddenly, he pulled out and dropped your head, the spit dripping from your lips. You felt a warmth on our back as he came between your shoulders, his groans deep and dusky. Steve followed shortly, pushing himself back as he slipped out of you and rubbed himself through his climax against your thigh.

You remained, weak and whimpering, on the bench. You couldn’t move; stunned, drained of every ounce of strength. You panted wildly and your fingertips felt the cold floor blindly.

“Get her up,” Clark ordered as your vision began to clear. 

“You.” Steve countered sharply. “You said it yourself,” Fingers danced over your spine and made you shiver. “I’m in charge.”

[wzrd-wheezes]

Love Language - Fred Weasley x Reader

A/N - Hey! Sorry I’ve been inactive for a little while, I’ve been super busy with work and stuff, but here’s a fluffy Freddie fic.

Request:  Hi! Can I have a Fred Weasley x reader where they’ve been dating for a while and they have a love touch relationship where they always have to be touching in some way. Then umbridge comes in and makes the boys and girls can’t be within 8inches rule

1.3k words

masterlist here

Hogwarts was unbearable for Y/N at the minute. Professor Umbridge had begun to take over the entire school. Every class that she sat in was tense, some of her teachers had lost their jobs, all of the clubs had been banned. But everything seemed okay when Y/N was with Fred. They had been dating for a while now and barely spent a second apart from each other. George used to often make jokes about Fred getting aggravated if he and Y/N weren’t constantly touching. They were basically joined at the hip.

All of that ended one day when a particularly loud noise rang through the halls of Hogwarts. Y/N and Fred were on their way to their Transfiguration class when they heard it.

             “Boys and girls are not permitted to be within eight inches of each other.” Umbridge’s voice echoed through the corridor. Y/N’s heart sank immediately, and she looked down at her and Fred’s entangled fingers.

             “Don’t worry, love, what’s she going to do? Chop our fingers off?” Fred laughed, shaking his head, “she’s a right hag, isn’t she? Old Umbridge.” Y/N tried to laugh but there was a dull ache in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t think of anything worse than her and Fred getting into trouble just for holding hands.

             “Yeah, I suppose,” she smiled, “We’ll just have to try and be careful, Freddie.”

 “Being careful” to Fred meant stolen kisses in the corridors when he thought that no one was looking. He would often grab Y/N’s hand and pull her into a deserted corridor and give her a quick peck on the lips before dashing off as soon as he caught a glimpse of either Filch or Umbridge. They were walking back from Quidditch practice one evening when Fred quickly yanked Y/N’s arm.

             “What was that for?”

             “That bloody cat,” he yanked his head in the direction of Mrs. Norris who was fast approaching them.

             “Shit.”

Without a second thought, Fred grabbed her hand and pulled her into the broom closet down the next corridor.

             “Fred! What the hell were you thinking?” she hissed, “if we get caught in here we’ll be in twice as much trouble,”

             “I’m sorry,” he said, “I panicked. I barely get to be with you anymore now,”

             “We’re together all the time, Freddie,”

             “Yeah, but not like together, Merlin, I can’t remember the last time I properly hugged you or held your hand. I hate all of this sneaking around,”

             “I know, I hate it too,” Y/N frowned.

             “I mean, if it was just me that was going to get into trouble then I’d parade around the corridors holding your hand and kissing you every five minutes,” he smiled, “I’d just hate for you to get into trouble for it.”

Fred gazed into her eyes for a moment, taking in all the features of his girlfriend’s face. He placed one of his hands on her waist and pulled her closer to him. She looked up at him and smiled. God, he would take a hundred detentions with Umbridge just to see her smiling at him. There was a loud creak as the closet door opened abruptly.

             “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Filch drawled.

Y/N and Fred were frogmarched to Umbridge’s office, where she sat at her desk smiling sweetly at them.

             “Care to tell me why you and Miss Y/L/N were in the broom closet together, Mr Weasley?” She smiled grimly. Y/N shifted on her feet, glancing at Fred out of the corner of her eye.

             “Well, you see,” Fred began, “Y/N here is my girlfriend and you know, this ‘eight inches’ rule isn’t really working out for us,” he glared at her. Umbridge giggled.

             “I’m sure you know, Mr Weasley, that this is an educational environment and those kind of relationships aren’t exactly appropriate,” she was still grinning, “a week’s worth of detentions for the both of you should be sufficient then?”

             “But-” Fred interrupted.

             “No buts. You can start tonight. Take a seat.” She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk where two black quills lay menacingly. Y/N didn’t have the strength to protest, she felt defeated. She felt guilty about feeling a bit angry at Fred for getting them into this mess. However, she sat down and proceeded writing the lines that had been set for them. It wasn’t her first detention with Umbridge and after she had written a few lines, she felt the familiar stinging, burning sensation on the back of her hand.

 It was late when her and Fred arrived back to the Common Room. Neither of them spoke a word to each other on the way back. They didn’t speak to each other the next morning either. It wasn’t until they were having dinner that the silence was finally broken.

             “Is it a bit frosty at the dining table this evening, or is it just me?” George joked, looking at the pair.

             “Just you I reckon, Georgie,” Fred replied snarkily.

             “Stop being rude,” Y/N nudged him under the table.

             “I think you two need to go talk about whatever is going on,” George said, “Fred’s angst is getting all over my apple pie and custard and I can’t take it any longer,”

             “You want to go for a walk?” Y/N stood up, going to reach her hand out for Fred before smiling sadly and tucking it into one of the pockets of her robe instead.

They walked out of the Great Hall and started wandering down the corridors.

             “I’m sorry if I’ve been being grumpy, Y/N,” Fred said, glancing at her, “I’m just finding it really difficult not being able to be with you properly,”

             “I know,” she smiled at him, pushing her hair out of her face, “George said that you’d been being a bit tetchy, I thought you were just mad at me or something.”

             “What?” he stopped in his tracks, “I could never be mad at you, sweetheart,”

Tears started welling up in her eyes, she fiddled with the sleeves of her jumper as she looked at Fred. She could really do with a hug off of him right now, but she didn’t want to risk another detention.

             “Erm, Y/N, turn around…”

She was half expecting to see Umbridge pacing towards them and was bracing herself for another argument. Instead, she turned around to face a large, ornate wooden door.

             “That wasn’t there before… was it?” she asked, walking towards it cautiously.

             “It’s the Room of Requirement, I reckon,” Fred said, placing his hand of the handle, “It only appears to people who really need it.”

 Y/N and Fred entered the room. It was decorated plainly, a large plush sofa sat in the middle of the room in front of a roaring fire. Fred threw himself down and pulled Y/N onto his lap. Fred’s touch seemed to linger on her skin, his fingers felt warm as he stroked them up and down her arm comfortingly.

             “This is better, isn’t it love?” he smiled, cupping her cheek in his hand and pulling her in for a kiss. Fred’s lips were warm and soft, he kissed her tenderly, playing with a strand of her hair. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, trying to get as close to him as possible. Y/N buried her face in his hair, breathing in the fresh, clean smell that she had missed so much. It felt good to be close to Fred again. She had missed lazily playing with his hair as he napped in the common room, how his fingers were constantly intertwined with hers.

             “I never, ever want to leave here, Freddie,” she whispered.

             “Me either.” He tucked his face into the crook of her neck, and she could feel him smiling against her skin. In that moment, everything seemed okay. As long as she was with Fred, everything always would be.

[kaesaaurelia]

you are here

For @whumptober day 15: Emotional Damage, using the prompt "lies."

Continued from day 6, wherein Hell sent Aziraphale a ransom video of Crowley, captured and beaten up, and day 10, where Crowley endured searing torments and discovered that truly, Hell is other people.

When the demons came back around to dip them in lava again, Crowley, having learned his lesson now, permitted the damned souls to be encased in lava over time, until they were weirdly cocoon-shaped geodes of entitlement, and they were unhooked carefully from the candle-dipper and carried somewhere else. By this time he was very badly burnt and just wanted to hole up somewhere and shed all his skin as soon as possible. He tried to slip away while the supervisor was looking the other way, but the weird pink tentacles sprouting from her nose swerved in his direction as soon as he tried to get past her, and she dug her claws into his shoulder to stop him. "Where d'you think you're going?" she asked.

"I've, er, got an appointment," Crowley invented.

"Blessed right, you do. They told me to keep you here 'til they came and took you to it."

Crowley tsked loudly, trying not to be annoyed that the demon's claws had pierced both his jacket and his shoulder. "Well, all right, if you like, but don't be surprised if Someone's very upset with you," he said, going for ominous and managing slightly bratty.

The demon looked deeply unimpressed. "Did you really think that'd work? Come on, you saw the kind of humans we work with here, did you think I'd say 'Oh yes, of course, sir, whatever you say, I must have been mistaken, sir, I'm so sorry'?"

Crowley had to admit she had a good point. "Right, okay, yeah, but look --"

"No," she said.

"Look, could I just --"

"No," she said again.

"I'll wait here," Crowley promised, "I just want to let someone know I'm going to be late. To my appointment. Could I... is there a payphone or something?"

She considered this for a moment. "You did defend us out there. You also made our job harder."

"But I did defend you, yes!" said Crowley, seizing on this one thing.

After another long pause to consider this, she finally drew a black rectangle out of her pocket. "One of the humans gave me this to hold while we dunked them. I can't fucking use it, I can't see, but it's electric," she said, tapping it with one of her nose tentacles. "I assume it's one of those awful newfangled things they have now."

Then she held it out to him. It was a phone.

"There are mobiles in Hell?" Crowley asked. He'd assumed from all the interruption of all his radio and television programs that such things were beyond Hell's comprehension.

"Apparently they make the younger humans anxious, and the older ones get angry about them," she said, "so we import them specially. I ate one once by accident," she added, making a face. "Very crunchy, not a lot of flavor. So I don't really want it."

"What do I have to do for it?" Crowley asked.

"Just don't give it back to that bitch, I'd love to hear what she has to say when I tell her I lost her stupid thing," said the demon. "And don't say I did you any favors."

Crowley almost thanked her as he took the mobile from her, but thought better of it at the last moment. "I won't," he said.

--

Aziraphale had spent several hours sneaking through the bureaucratic offices of Hell already, trying to find Crowley without anybody finding him, and he'd had no luck at all. He found himself blankly staring at a wall full of memos and notices, wondering where to go next, when one of the notices caught his eye.

ANGEL, it started.

He supposed at first that it was a very poorly-designed wanted poster for himself, but to his astonishment it was not.

ANGEL - BEING TAKEN ON GRAND TOUR OF TORMENT. HEADED TO CENTRAL DIS TO BE GNAWED BY SOMETHING? FOR A WHILE, WILL PROBABLY TAKE 2-3 DAYS. HOPE YOU HAVE A MOBILE.

He folded the notice and put it in his pocket. He was going to have to get to Dis.

Dis proved more difficult than he'd expected, however. He had trouble at the ferry, because of course Aziraphale had what he thought was the requisite two coins, but the fare had gone up a lot, and so, having missed his first chance, he had to wait for an hour and a half for the next one, only that one didn't come, and it was the last ferry of the day. Aziraphale ended up waiting, frantic with worry for Crowley, in a nasty-smelling station where all the chairs had mysterious liquid pooled in them, for twelve hours before he was finally able to cross the Acheron to get to the outskirts of Dis.

By which point Crowley's location had changed again.

HAVE BEEN GNAWED. SORRY FOR TOPICS, MISSING 3 FUNHOUSE. OMW TO BE ENCRUSTED, said the absolutely baffling notice that was plastered to an electric pole in Dis.

A nearby billboard was a little more helpful. FIGURE! ENSTOATED!, it shouted, next to a photograph of a smiling demon in a suit and tie. (It was not Crowley. Aziraphale had to assume the demon was the Infernal equivalent of a personal injury lawyer, since the telephone number at the bottom, helpfully transcribed in both letters and numbers, was +666 3472 677678, which translated to the extremely clunky +666 DISC ORPOR8.)

Aziraphale didn't know what was missing three figures, nor whether being Encrusted or Enstoated was worse, but the especially frustrating part was that there was no hint as to where Crowley was.

Another notice, this one the caption for a poster depicting a lost bat, clarified things very slightly. FINGERS. MISSING 3. SORRY. DUCKING AUTOCORRECT.

The description of the lost bat was briefly an actual description of a lost bat, but Aziraphale blinked, and it suddenly resolved into I'm in the 9th Circle. Don't come here.

Aziraphale did not take the poster; whoever had put it up would still be missing their bat, and resolved to find his way to the Ninth Circle if it killed him.

He puzzled out the universe's least helpful map -- "YOU ARE HERE" was the title, and there was no indication as to where he actually was -- and then waited three hours for a bus that was supposed to be coming in 15 minutes. Eventually he decided to walk to the train station he needed to get to. There were no sidewalks, he was nearly run over several times, and it began to rain a searingly hot green liquid that ate pits in the sidewalk and ruined his umbrella and coat.

Aziraphale was utterly exhausted by the time he got to the train station. It was -- because of course it was, this was Hell! -- it was not underground, or at ground level, or even elevated one or two storeys up. Oh no, it was attached to the ceiling of the cavern.

Aziraphale sighed and brought his wings out, or tried to, but pain shot through him like electricity, and he realized he'd missed the ABSOLUTELY NO FLYING notice on the sign pointing upwards to the station.

As Aziraphale climbed the rickety, ancient staircase, he could see the way the track plunged down into a great gaping hole in the ground a bit further on, and was relieved that it probably did go to the Ninth Circle, if it ran at all, which he doubted.

But when he was, oh, perhaps five or six stories from the station, there was a great rumbling noise that rattled the staircase and made it shake so hard Aziraphale nearly fell off. He began taking the stairs two at a time. He made it to the platform just in time to watch the train roar off into the abyss.

The electronic sign at the station suggested that the next train would be along in twenty minutes. Aziraphale knew this was a lie. Wishing he could miracle away the stitch in his side, he sat down on the one single bench at the station, which had armrests built into it just wide enough that Aziraphale fit, but they dug into his legs painfully. He wondered if Crowley would've been able to sit here comfortably, or whether the armrests would have adjusted to make him uncomfortable too.

Aziraphale had the brief and uncharitable thought that Crowley had probably suggested they do this, since it struck him as a very human thing to consider, and then he considered what Crowley was going through, the enstoating, or ensconcing, or encrusting, or whatever he had tried to type, with three missing fingers, and he felt ill.

As he waited, the station went from empty to crowded, and by the time the train came, about an hour later, he and the other commuters had to sardine themselves into it. All the damned human souls seemed to have mobiles, but none of them had headphones, and so the train was a cacophony of music, repetitive videos, and distasteful political rants playing tinnily on tiny speakers, with the sound of screaming infants piped in over the tannoy for realism.

That was all right, though, because it all sort of blended into a disagreeable white noise. Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to relax as the train pitched down into the lowest circles of Hell, and no matter how badly the cars jostled, nobody fell over, because they were far too tightly packed.

In fact, something about the familiarity of the whole thing and the heat of the poorly-ventilated train car must have got to Aziraphale, because the next thing he knew, his cheek was resting on a frigid and slightly sticky floor. It was pitch black, and the train was rattling around him.

Aziraphale hauled himself his feet and walked face-first into a pole before grabbing onto it to stay upright. He looked around. There was a dim light at one end of the car, and he made his way carefully towards it, thinking perhaps in the next car there was light.

But as he approached, a terrifying visage came out of the darkness, with staring white eyes and knife-sharp teeth; the little point of light was suspended from an antenna sprouting out of its forehead as a lure for the unwary. Aziraphale recoiled.

"Oh, there you are," said the anglerfish demon, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"What have you done to the lights? Where are we going?" Aziraphale demanded.

"Oh, that just happens on this train, especially in the Ninth Circle," said the demon pleasantly. "You fell asleep. They were going to kick you off at the end of the line, but I figured you probably meant to get off earlier than that."

"But I was going there!" said Aziraphale, frantically. "Stop the train! Or, or -- when's the next stop?"

The demon sighed heavily, and though his countenance still looked vicious, Aziraphale realized that might have been more because of the teeth than because he was particularly aggressive. "Look, even I don't come down here if I can help it, and I'm a Duke of Hell," said the demon. "Also, if they found out I'd allowed an angel to get all the way down here without ripping his throat out, they'd look at my records. Things would be called into question. I may have been fudging certain quotas over the years, here and there, because frankly it's very hard to get to Earth what with all my duties in Hell. I'm sure you understand; I remember Heaven well enough."

Aziraphale didn't trust this demon, but he was almost friendly, and Aziraphale was so tired. His whole body ached in various ways he could usually escape on Earth. "I'm trying to find a friend," he admitted.

"In the Ninth Circle?" The demon drew closer. "Oh! You're Crowley's angel, aren't you?"

Aziraphale stepped back hurriedly. "What? No! I don't know who that is," he said, unconvincingly.

"Relax, I'm not here to snitch on you. Like I said. People will ask inconvenient questions. Anyway, I used to be his supervisor, back before he got to be such a big shot with all that apple stuff. I'm still in contact with a few people we worked with, here and there," he added, cheerfully.

"Ah," said Aziraphale. "But I thought Lucifer..."

"Oh no, Lucifer was the big boss. I was the little boss," said the demon.

"Ah. And you were... friendly?" Aziraphale knew that Crowley had done good work during Creation, doing... things with stars.

"Oh, no, he was an exhausting little shit," said the demon, "but he was talented. And honestly? I like Earth. I only get to go every now and then but it's nice up there. Quieter. I have a friend up there who keeps trying to talk me into moving up there to teach physics -- she's an angel, she's my assigned rival for some reason, but I don't really think of her like that, we're just friends. Anyway, the only reason I don't take her up on that, honestly, is I have a bunch of Erics to look after, and I don't need grad students on top of the Erics. But Earth seems nice, you know? And I didn't want to lose another war. And I didn't really like our odds. So you go on and enjoy your lack of apocalypse."

"Yes, thank you," said Aziraphale, impatiently. "I'm glad you appreciate, er, the great service Crowley and I did, but he's in the Ninth Circle. I'm trying to retrieve him."

The demon shook his head, his little lure-light bobbing back and forth. "You're not getting him from there. Not and getting out alive. Didn't they kidnap him to trap you?"

"Well... yes, but I've been getting these, these text messages from him --"

"If he told you to come find him in the Ninth Circle, he's not worth saving," said the demon.

"Oh, no," said Aziraphale. "Actually, he told me not to come, he's very considerate, he's really a dear, but how could I just leave him --"

He stopped.

The demon looked at him expectantly.

"How could I just leave him?" Aziraphale repeated to himself. "And why would he have told me that, if he really didn't want me to come find him?"

"Do you think," said the demon, "that every message you get is guaranteed to come from Crowley?"

"Ah." It had had a suspicious lack of typos, especially for having been typed with three fingers missing. "It was a trap, wasn't it?"

"Definitely a trap," said the demon.

As they spoke, the lights in the train had gradually come back on, and scenery began flashing by -- Hell scenery, but still, scenery. Aziraphale watched two nude ice-skaters flee down a frozen river from a phalanx of crocodiles, then saw an unlucky third ice-skater further down the river being devoured by several of them. "Do you think he actually was in the Ninth Circle?"

"Maybe," said the demon. "Do you know what was supposed to be happening to him?"

"Something about encrustment? Or possibly enstoatment?"

"Oh!" said the demon, brightly. "Yeah, that's pretty bad. But it's not Ninth Circle bad. It's like, Eight and a Halfth Circle, at worst. Although they're actually thinking about drilling down further to make room for all the weird new sins humans are inventing, which is kind of exciting."

"Ah," said Aziraphale. He did not much care about that.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of static from the tannoy, cutting into the screaming infant soundtrack. "The Next Stop Is..." said the announcer, fuzzily, and then came Crowley's voice. "Aziraphale! Can't talk much, look, please hurry, they're taking me to the Lethe, I don't know what's going to happen if they do that. Fuck, I hope you're getting these." There was a long, staticky pause before he added, "I love you."

Then the screaming baby sounds began again, as if they had never stopped.

Aziraphale stared at the demon, Crowley's supposed former supervisor. "Did you hear that?"

"I mean, kind of? But I can never figure out what stop that's supposed to be. I think we're coming up on Dat, or maybe Dose," said the demon. "It'll be a while 'til we get back into the actual city of Dis."

Either he was lying, or he hadn't heard it. Aziraphale chose to take a leap of faith. "If I had to get to the Lethe, very quickly, and as safely as possible, how would I go about doing that?"

The demon's white eyes widened. "Ah. Another message?"

"Yes. You don't think it's --"

"I have no idea whether it's real," said the demon. "But if you want to get to Lethe... either you're looking at a six-hour bus trip with three transfers, or you're going to have to get someone to drive you. Traffic will be terrible this time of day, but --"

"Do you know anyone who could take me?" Aziraphale asked.

The demon made a pained face. "Well, not me, I'm not a bad enough driver to get a license." He seemed to take pity on Aziraphale, though. "All right, okay, look, it's a pretty long shot, but... I might know someone who can help you out, if the stories I've heard about you are true."

"The stories? What stories?" Aziraphale asked.

"But I guess you'll have to find out. And no promises." He began checking his pockets, and fished out a pen. "Do you have any paper?"

"Yes!" said Aziraphale, gratefully presenting him with the notice he'd taken days ago from across the Acheron.

"Okay, great. Also, sorry, my pen's out of ink because I think most of them just come like that in Hell, so you're going to have to be able to read the indentations." With some difficulty, the demon chiseled instructions into the paper, and hurried Aziraphale off at the next stop. As the train pulled out of the station, Aziraphale frowned down at the paper, puzzling out the directions and the address. He started off, still daring to hope he was going the right way.

[to be continued on day 16]

[sabrinathe20somethingwitch]

Rivetra Week 2021

lol not me completely not knowing that Rivetra Week was happening THIS week and frantically trying to put something together. but on a more serious note, everyone in this fandom is so incredibly talented, I am in constant awe of all of you. always and forever, thank you for reading.

August 25th - Day 2: Jealousy

Levi had never considered himself to be a particularly possessive person. Sure, he had grown up in the pits of the Underground and he had learned how to protect what was his, how to prevent people from sticking their noses into his territory. He had established such a strong and deadly reputation for himself that once he arrived at the surface, there were few that dared to challenge him and his authority, especially when he had someone like Erwin at his side vouching for him. He didn’t want for much, he was used to surviving on next to nothing, he didn’t have many possessions to his name and besides, no one would dare to touch his things or even enter his room without permission anyways. He certainly wasn’t possessive of his friendships with others, if he could even call them that to begin with. He was protective of his squad in the sense that he didn’t want to see the shitty brats get devoured by titans, but they were free to do what they wanted otherwise. Really, he wasn’t a very possessive guy, he never had any reason to be. 

So he didn’t quite understand the strange feeling that had coiled tightly in his chest and the way that his blood seemed to boil beneath his skin when he saw one of the Garrison officers chatting up Petra. 

Levi had permitted his squad to have the day off, claiming that he needed to make a trip to the local market for supplies because “rations only give us the shit kind of everything anyway” when they had all agreed to join him. Begrudgingly, he had accepted. To be honest, the entire excursion into town didn’t end up being as bad as he had expected. He had found his tea, special soap, some extra cleaning supplies, and even a nice bottle of whiskey; he even considered sharing some with the rest of his squad later in the evening and they were just about ready to depart when the local flower stand had caught Petra’s eye. “They remind me of home,” she had said softly as she eyed the yellow chrysanthemums, a wistful look on her face, and she was quickly drawn to them, promising him that she would only be a moment. He had turned his back to get the horses, only a few minutes, but when he was just about to see what was taking her so long (“Oi, Ral, how long does it take to buy some fucking flowers?”), he was there. 

He was tall, blonde, radiating with boyish charm and wearing a goofy grin that made the captain want to sink his fist into his face for some unknown reason. His lips were moving, he was saying something to her, and Petra’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, but he could see the way her lips curled upwards at the corners, the way her shoulders shook slightly. She was giggling. Her face was flushed. Was she blushing too? Levi watched as the boy dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a coin, pressing it into the vendor’s palm before plucking a flower at random, a daisy, from the bouquet. He reached forward, tucking it behind her ear, stepping closer to her.

Levi was pretty sure this bordered on sexual harassment.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he felt himself striding over to the pair with purpose, a murderous scowl etched across his features. Petra turned to greet him with a smile, but the boy didn’t even notice him at first, still staring at her with that stupid look on his face, before Levi cleared his throat, noticing with smug satisfaction how the boy sputtered violently, thumping a fist over his heart quickly.

“Captain Levi! I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t see you,” he squeaked.

“I can see that,” Levi said, a bite creeping into the edges of his voice. “Ral, it’s time to get going, c’mon.”

She laughed nervously, twisting a piece of hair between her fingers. “Sorry, Captain, I was just going to grab some flowers when I got to talking with-” She gestured to the boy beside her before she blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, you didn’t even tell me your name.”

“Henri.” He nodded his head at her before turning to Levi, extending a hand. “Henri Augustine, sir. It’s an honor to meet you,” he said, flashing him a toothy grin.

Levi only glared in response and Henri slowly dropped his hand, wiping his palm against his trousers and glancing at Petra out of the corner of his eye.

He jerked his chin towards the horses. “Petra, let’s go.”

She nodded in agreement and offered Henri a small wave and a soft smile before the boy quickly snatched her wrist, tugging her towards him. “Petra, wait!”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi also didn’t consider himself to be an unnecessarily vengeful person; he only used the right amount of vengeance when the situation called for it. But when he saw the punk’s fingers close around her wrist, he prayed to whatever deity he could think of that a titan would wreak havoc through the marketplace and the little shit would become lunch.

Henri pulled her closer to his chest, far too close for Levi’s liking and far too close to be considered appropriate in public, and bent forward to whisper something into her ear. Levi couldn’t quite hear what he was saying, but he caught snippets of his words, something like “love to see you” and “keep in touch”. She was blushing furiously and it made his stomach churn. Violently.

He was just about ready to put an end to their little conversation and insist she come with him, they did need to make it back to the barracks before sundown, when the boy brought her fingers to his lips, giving the back of her hand a soft kiss.

Levi saw red.

Within an instant, he was beside her and shoving the soldier backwards. Henri stumbled for a moment, his arms flailing wildly, before recovering and staring at the captain in bewilderment. 

Levi seized Petra’s upper arm and began dragging her towards the horses. He knew that his grip was far too tight, but he didn’t care, choosing to ignore her hiss of pain.

“Captain - ow! - What’re you doing?!”

“We’re leaving,” he spat through a clenched jaw. “Now.” He spun her around, grabbing her hips and forcefully hoisting her onto her horse. She squeaked in surprise, her cheeks flushing bright red as she hastily adjusted herself across her saddle.

She tossed one last look over her shoulder at Henri, who still stood there seemingly petrified, and offered him a pitying glance before the bright yellow flowers caught her eye once more. 

“Wait, Captain! I didn’t get the flowers!”

“Tough shit, Ral.”

If she were standing on the ground, and feeling an extra bit childish, she would’ve stomped her foot in indignation. Instead, she gave a small huff, offering the captain a subtle lift of her middle finger behind his back and muttering curses under her breath before she joined the rest of her squad. The boys exchanged confused, and concerned, looks between them as Eld rode beside her, leaning in.

“Should I even ask what the hell happened?” he mumbled from the corner of his mouth.

“Nope,” Petra replied, popping her lips at the end of her word. 

Eld nodded tersely before shaking his head at Oluo and Gunther, imitating a slashing motion across his neck.

It was going to be a long ride home.

——————————

Petra had always known that she was a beautiful girl: she knew about the effect that she had on the men around her, how they would turn their heads when she entered a room. She knew that they found her desirable, something that her father had cautiously warned her about as she reached maturity and reminded her of as she enlisted in the military (“Really, Pet, the only girl in that entire squad?”). However, even though she was beautiful, she wasn’t a particularly feminine woman. Her brazen confidence, strength, and thirst for vengeance, coupled with her Scout uniform that was usually covered in blood and guts, had most men running for the hills before she could even introduce herself. It was alright, she reasoned; they weren’t worth her time anyway. Besides, she didn’t have time for romance, not when she was risking her life everyday for the sake of humanity. Still, she sometimes found herself daydreaming what it would be like to fall in love, get married, raise a family, like normal people do everyday, like she could do when the war ended. 

She flopped onto her bed, having retired for the evening and changed into her nightgown, twisting the nearly-forgotten daisy, the source of all her current woes, between her fingers and plucking the individual petals with a tad more force than necessary. She hadn’t actually been interested in Henri, he was far too tall and lanky for her taste. But for a brief moment, her heart had fluttered at the mere notion of loving someone and being loved in return, especially when the focus of her affections was being an absolute ass.

She groaned in frustration, rubbing at her temples as she pushed away from her pillow. She needed to talk to him, she needed to set a boundary and tell him that she didn’t need him rushing in to defend her honor like she was some sort of damsel, she could handle herself perfectly fine.

But when she opened her door, she nearly yelped in surprise to see the very person she needed to talk to was already standing in her doorway, his knuckles raised to rap against the door. He looked at her with a similar expression of shock before his face melted into his usual bored, impassive look and he quickly shifted something behind his back before Petra caught a glance of what it was.

“What’re you doing here?” he said in a low voice.

She gestured to the nameplate on her door. “This is my room.”

The tips of his ears burned red, the only sign of his apparent awkwardness. “…oh, yeah.”

She folded her arms across her chest, feigning nonchalance. “What do you want?” she asked. Her tone was dry.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that how you want to talk to your commanding officer?”

Petra gave him a pointed look, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation, another habit of his that she had picked up. “What do you want, Captain?”

He swallowed audibly, she could practically see the knot that had wound itself in his throat. It confused her; in all the time that she had known him, she had never seen Levi quite so… nervous.

He threaded a hand through his hair. “I just, y’know, wanted to say that I’m-” He pressed a palm against his chest and grimaced, almost as if the words brought him physical pain. “I think I owe you, um… an apology… for today.” He scowled. “Even if that little shit was being a brat. And um, here, I guess.” He thrust something into her hands and Petra blinked once, then twice, then three times.

Yellow chrysanthemums.

“You said they reminded you of home, right?”

Flowers. He had given her flowers. Instantly, all of her anger and annoyance and frustration towards him seemed to melt away and an unfamiliar, yet pleasantly warm feeling swept into its place, pooling low into her gut and heating her from the inside out. 

“You never picked them up when we were in town so I doubled back and got them for you.”

He had gone all the way back into town for her. To get her flowers.

“Just don’t expect something like this ever again, Ral, because that vendor charged the fuck out of me, so if you want flowers, I’ll just go pull you some weeds from the forest next time-”

“Captain?”

She stepped closer to him until they were nearly touching and lifted up onto her toes, quickly placing a chaste kiss against his cheek, desperately hoping that he wasn’t close enough to hear the pounding of her heart against her sternum. His skin was surprisingly smooth beneath her lips, she noticed faintly, and she smiled softly at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks and fighting back a blush.

He nodded, muttering something under his breath akin to “get that shit in some water or it’ll dry out” before promptly bidding her goodnight. He turned on his heel, retreating quickly back to his office but not before he could notice, from the corner of his eye, her beaming smile, the kind of shit that lights up a room, as she stared down at his flowers. The sight brought a small smirk to his face and the tightly coiled tension in his chest that he had felt all day, ever since seeing that Garrison punk sidle up to her at the flower stand, finally unraveled, replaced by a faint stirring that made his heart beat just a little faster. 

Sometimes, being possessive paid off.

He noted that for next time.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Logical Epilogue

Epilogue to The Logical Progression

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader Rating: Mature Warnings: Cursing; sexual innuendo; Nathan being Nathan Notes: Honestly was kinda stunned that so many people asked for an epilogue 🥺 Sorry it took so long!  Just as a note, the painter mentioned in this piece is entirely fictional Summary: At first, it was exciting.

Berlin worked.

Berlin worked for a while.

You settled into your new position, your new office. Your new boss, Mark’s replacement, was out in California, and the time difference was a little bit of a bitch, but you made it work.

You made it work for a while.

You saw Nathan most weekends, at first. Most, because he got consumed with his work so often, and so did you, sometimes. Truth be told, you couldn’t always take the time out of your schedule to take the two hour flight from Berlin to Oslo, and then the hour long helicopter ride from the airport to the drop zone near the estate, and then the forty five minute hike from the drop zone to Nathan’s house.

At first, you did.

At first, it was exciting. At first you were optimistic, and in love, and brimming with hope because this was a compromise—and sure, it wasn’t something that the two of you had come up with together; it had been your idea, but he had said yes. Yes to your idea, yes to Berlin, yes to your new title – in his company. You had carved out your own place in his company, gotten to where you were by your own merits. You were happy. He was happy.

It worked at first.

After the first few months, though, the bloom was off the rose.

It started with the travel. 

Four hours was a lot one way – and that was four hours if everything was running on time and the weather permitted. It was eight hours all told, round trip. Eight hours every weekend, back and forth, was a bit much. So after a few months, every weekend became every other weekend – and it was still a lot. Of course, any time you mentioned that to Nathan, he was unapologetic at best.

“If you’d just moved in with me like I’d planned, you wouldn’t be tired.”

The first couple of times, you’d laughed. The fifteenth time, it wasn’t so funny anymore. You finally stopped mentioning it to him.

Then, it was the work.

It took you four hours to get to his house. Four. Three flying and an hour of a hike – sometimes through the snow. Silly you, you’d thought the man might stop for more than a kiss and a, “Hey, honey,” when you got there.

At first, the two of you were fucking like rabbits. And then your visits became more infrequent, and even when you were there, Nathan was sometimes too locked in to whatever it was that he was doing to give you the time of day, so much so that you felt like his damn Jackson Pollack: you were around to be looked at occasionally, contemplated, and then left to your own devices.

You’d made the mistake of mentioning that to him, too.

“I’d have more time for you if you were here, honey.”

That had started as a tease, too, but you knew Nathan. Every little joke and jab had a thin layer of saccharine shielding the spike he really wanted to stick you with.

And it stuck.

It didn’t help that your work had felt stagnant since you’d moved. Blue Book was still flourishing; your performance reviews were all positive; the Berlin office was thriving, but… But ever since you moved, you just felt so disconnected.

-- 

“You’re not coming this weekend?”

Nathan’s voice didn’t manage to lose any of its petulance despite how tinny it sounded through your headphones.

“I can’t, we’re going through tissue sessions for the pitch on Monday,” You told him.

“I haven’t seen you in, like, a month.”

“Oh, you noticed that?” There was a pause on Nathan’s end before he dryly asked, “You driving at something, sweetheart?” “Look Nate, I’ve got work to do,” You retorted, “I’ll call you later and try to make it out next weekend, alright?” Nathan let out a scoffed laugh and hung up. No ‘goodbye’, no ‘sure’, no ‘noon will be fine’. Looking back, that should’ve been a warning. With Nathan, there wouldn’t be a goodbye. There would be a drift. The time between your trips to see him became longer and longer, and your countenance in one another’s company became more and more icy, more static. The trips stopped, the calls stopped, and then a box with the things that you left at Nathan’s place showed up at your door. No note, no letter from him, nothing. His Maya console was right at the bottom. He’d finally ripped it out of the fuckin’ wall. Mommy and Daddy had broken up and you got full custody. -- 

The decision to leave Blue Book wasn’t a result of the break up. You’d had other job offers before - Nathan knew that-- No. No, you told yourself to take Nathan out of the equation as you handwrote your resignation letter. Handwrote, because you were still under NDA, and you didn’t want the drafts of this to be caught in one of the regular data audits that Blue Book did. 

You weren’t leaving to join Google, Apple, or IBM, or any of the other companies that had offered you positions with them over the years.  One of the reasons that you had moved up in Blue Book as quickly as you had was your ability to look at a product release and translate the jargon-heavy language into something the average person could understand. You’d done it for a few friends in the tech industry on the side now and again, when they were getting started with their own companies. And as much as you liked Blue Book, you liked the idea of being your own boss more. -- Your last night at Blue Book was no less than a fiasco - you’d been there a long time, so they made an effort, a fuss. They threw a party at a swanky art gallery in Berlin. People had come up to you all evening, asked you what your plans were, if you were excited, what you would miss. You’d told them - you were going to become a freelance writer, focus on technical writing. You already had a number of jobs lined up. You were incredibly excited, but a little nervous. Blue Book had been one big cyber safety net. You’d be alone.

“You hear Bateman was here?” It was a whisper behind you - from one member of the sales team to another, but loud enough for you to hear, loud enough to distract you from the conversation that you’d been in the middle of. There was no way. You hadn’t heard from the man in months - four of them, if you were going to be precise. There was no way he would turn up at your going away party - to do what? Make a fucking splash? All eyes on him? You wondered exactly how much shit you’d get for leaving your own party. You heard the ping of Blue Book’s messaging system on your phone and you pulled it out of your pocket, going cold when you saw the message. N. Bateman: Ferrar room.

No. No, you wouldn’t let him do this. This motherfucker wouldn’t get the chance to just swan back in and sweep you back off of your fucking feet after he was such a shit. -- “So you haven’t plugged Maya in yet.” “...Well between my phone, laptop and the NDA, I’ve kinda already got enough of your spyware in my apartment.”

Nathan chuckled, still wandering around the little back room of the gallery. You’d had to ask an attendant where the Ferrar room even was - but it was full of some of the most vibrant work you’d ever seen. So maybe, for that reason, you’d briefly forgiven Nathan for not even turning to look at you since you’d walked in. And yeah, it had stung, but considering everything that had happened and-- and not happened -- considering the things that the two of you had never said and the fights that you’d never had, and the compromises that he’d never made and every single compromise that you had made, it was no wonder that the man didn’t bother to turn and look at you when there was canvas after canvas after canvas of life in vivid color all around him. “Armel Ferrar,” Nathan said, “French painter, born in Peillon in 1868. Moved to Paris in 1885. Heavily influenced by Seurat and Cézanne -- more Cézanne than Seurat. You can see it in the color use, but… the way he plays with light, that’s all Seurat.” You weren’t looking at the painting that Nathan was looking at. Hell, you weren’t even looking at the paintings. You were just looking at him - at the back of his fucking head. At the back of his fucking head, and the slight tapering that you could see of his beard; at the way his shoulders sloped, and where his hands were tucked into his pockets. Your eyes drifted up his back again, over his neck, his head. The painting he was looking at, whatever painting it was, had bursts of yellow - wheat, maybe, or stars, or the sun, it was difficult for you to tell at that distance. From where you stood, it was as though the man was haloed and framed. Bright and shining and on display, this man that liked to keep to himself and spent his days underground in his office. “Stayed in Paris, too--” He was still talking, of course he was still talking, “Most of his life, or what was left of it. Never married, had one kid outta wedlock… Died in 1891, same year as Seurat. His daughter, Marie-Thérèse, married a military man that moved her to Berlin after the second World War. She brought his paintings with her, that’s how they wound up here.” 

Nathan went quiet for a few moments before, “What do you think?” “...I’m wondering why you had me come back here when you very well could’ve given that TED talk to an empty room. Or better yet to any one of the people out there that are utterly fascinated with you. Either would suit, considering how much you love your own voice.” You had already turned yourself to look at a painting, made yourself distracted by the time you answered, because you’d known that that would get a look from him. You were right, too; you saw him turn to look at you out of your periphery. “Can we skip this part?” That bored tone was back. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands, letting your eyes hone in on the vivid splashes of red on the painting in front of you - petunias. “Which part would that be?” You asked. “The part where you tell me what I did wrong and I pretend that you’re right so that I can say sorry and we can get back to what we were doing.”

You laughed. You actually laughed. Not a fake one, not a haughty one, but a real peal of laughter left you in shock. “Wow,” You sighed once it had passed, “I forgot what a dick you are, you know that? I actually kinda managed to forget.” “Look--” “No,” You turned to face him, holding a hand up to stop whatever he was about to say, “If you came to fake some sincere bullshit, or to tell me that everything would’ve worked if we had done things your way--” “They would’ve--” “Shut the fuck up, Bateman,” You snapped, “You don’t know that, alright? You don’t. I don’t care if you have it in your head that it would’ve all been perfect because you said so.” 

“You really think my way would’ve been worse?” “Well, we’ll never know,” You shrugged, folding your arms over your chest. Nathan was quiet for a single, blessed moment. Then-- “Why are you leaving Blue Book?” “I don’t wanna sound egotistical here, but I kinda refuse to believe that you didn’t read my resignation letter.” “I did.” “Then you know the answer.” “Were those the only reasons?” You looked over his face for a few moments. “... It wasn’t you,” You shook your head, “I don’t know if you wanted it to be, or didn’t, but it wasn’t you.” “Why the fuck would I want it to be?” “Because you think the universe revolves around your beard.” 

He seemed to fight a smile for a moment, and your stomach twisted. You’d seen that look - the way he had to work to pull down the corners of his mouth - in the first video he’d ever sent you, yelling at Maya to remove you as an admin. Maya, which was still sitting in a box in your apartment, because you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of the damn console. You didn’t want to plug it in, but you couldn’t just fucking throw it out. “...So, this new job,” He approached you slowly, and you were careful to hold your ground - not just because backing or turning away felt like weakness, but because stepping backward would mean knocking into the work of a French artist whose life sounded pretty fucking tragic. “Yes?” “You staying in Berlin?” You were quiet for a few moments before you shook your head. “I don’t know. I can do it from anywhere, so I haven’t really decided what my next move is going to be.” “Anywhere?” Nathan repeated. “Whatever you’re thinking, un-think it.” “Can’t unscramble an egg, honey.” “Don’t.” “Don’t what?” “Bateman, I’m serious. You think I’m just gonna crawl back to you?” “Who the fuck is doing the crawling? I’m here!” He snapped. “Oh, look. Nathan did one thing,” You cooed mockingly, “Nathan put on something other than sweatpants and left his estate--” “It’s a four hour trip--” “Oh, you cannot fucking tell me about the travel, Bateman, don’t you dare. I did that for months and you acted like it was nothing, you acted like I was nothing!” 

And then Nathan stopped. Nathan stopped and lowered his chin to his chest for a moment. “You’re not,” He spoke softly - so softly you almost didn’t hear, “You’re not-- You know that. That's your insecurities talking--” “Knowing and feeling are two different things. I’m not a console, I don’t run an OS, I can’t just go in and fix the buggy code that tells me differently,” You had to work to keep your voice steady and get the words out, “What you just did once to get here? I did that for months, Bateman. And that’s after I pulled my whole life up and moved to a new country. That trip, two days a week, every week, and half the time I was there, you acted like I wasn’t. I may as well have not been, so I stopped going.”  “You could’ve talked to me.” “...You know what, I’m not even going near that one, because I really don’t want to yell in here,” You managed through gritted teeth, eyes diverted to another painting. Nathan lifted his head then, looking you over before he stepped forward, muttering, “Stop that.” “What?” “That.” He reached out, taking hold of your hands from where they were crossed under your arms. He ‘tsk’ed softly as he uncrossed your arms and unfolded your hands, running his thumbs over the small half-moon dents that your nails had left in your palms. “... Alright, maybe gatecrashing wasn’t my best idea,” He glanced toward the door to the room before his eyes scanned your face. “I don’t think it even breaks your top five.” “Would you care to list that top five now?” “I would not, at the risk of puffing up your beard.” You heard him chuckle, felt his thumbs continue to smooth over your palms. “...You remember that first Rise of AI, when I told you why I’d pulled you up on stage to give that presentation?” He asked. You frowned, turning to look at him again. He was watching you closely over the top of his glasses, eyes knowing and dark. “You wanted to see what I'd do if you threw me in the deep end.” He nodded. “That was Blue Book, something we both knew. This…” He wrapped his hands around your, gave them a gentle squeeze, “This is new for the both of us. We jumped into the deep end and uh…Starting in the kiddy pool might’ve been better.”  “Did Nathan Bateman just admit defeat?” “No. No,” His gaze went stern, then, “Because kiddy pool or not, you’re still in the fuckin’ water.” You looked down at where his hands were holding yours still. “I want to try again,” Nathan crowded closer to you, “And I know-- I know that I am an asshole and that I fucked up, and you know what, I’m probably going to fuck up again,” He raised one hand to cup your chin, raising your head to meet his eyes, “But I wanna give it another shot. I just… I just need to know if that’s even an option here.” When the box of your things had arrived at your place, you’d told yourself that it wasn’t. You’d told yourself that Nathan was an asshole, and a shitstain, and a dickwad, and a douchecanoe, and a host of other derogatory names that you’d dreamt up in your most frustrated moments. Because, yeah, he could be those things. But that didn’t change the fact that you still had feelings for him. It didn’t change the fact that you’d made mistakes in that relationship, too. “So?” He prompted you as you looked at one another, “How do you think we’d do in the kiddy pool?” You gave him a small smile and murmured, “Swimmingly.” The force of Nathan’s kiss nearly knocked you off of your feet - your head would’ve hit a Ferrar if his hand hadn’t come up to cup the back and cushion it. (The gallery owner saw the two of you and was horrified.) (But Nathan bought that painting and like five others, so they got over it.)

Tag list: @spider-starry​ ; @mylittlelonelyappreciation​ ; @grogu-pascal​ ; @blueeyesatnight​ ; @kid-from-new-zealand​ ; @revolution-starter​ ; @kindablackenedsuperhero

[isimp4hawkz]

The Apothecary

(Hawks x Reader)

100% inspired from this beautiful artwork I found on pinterest ^^

This is my first time publishing any of my fics. I hope it’s enjoyable.

*Skimmed for any mistakes but I may have missed a few*

Words: 2.5k

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"Tell me something birdbrain. Did you come here in search of a remedy or did you come here to snuggle with my owls?" You scold aloud, brow lifted at the scene before you. It temporarily drew your attention away from the herbs you were blending for the person in question. If he really even needed them that is.

The man was bent over, hovering over the counter and barely burying his entire face into the soft plumage of Gamma's snowy collar, rubbing his nose into its depths, small chuckles resounding from him in his own apparent delight. Simultaneously, Thaddeus perched himself daintily onto the golden locks of his hair, managing to keep himself in place as the man's head moved about beneath him.

What shocked you is that they seemed to be genuinely enjoying his company, whereas they hardly acknowledge your existence throughout the day. It was much unlike how they'd usually act whenever someone walked into the shop. As soon as they heard that little bell chime from the entrance, both birds would take off towards their high perches on opposite ends of the room, making it in their best interest to avoid anyone new.

You didn't mind, nor question their habit. They only preferred your lone company either way, though they'd hardly show it. Much like you'd rather be with their company rather than some other person.

On that slow, peaceful evening, you'd discovered that maybe you don't know your beloved companions as well as you thought. For some reason, Hawks was some sort of an exception to them. Much more than an exception, at that.

For crying out loud, he was snuggling into Gamma and cuddling her as if she were a puppy! And she was letting him.

And Thaddeus. Thaddeus' behavior baffled you on an entirely different level. That was a bird who never permitted you any petting privileges, any time you'd insinuate a head rub, he'd screech at you and fan his wings. Very territorial, he was. At least you thought he was.

Yet here he was, God damn nesting in the hair of a complete stranger as if he'd known the man for years. As if you weren't the one who took him in when he was but a weak, fraile hatchling on the brink of death.

"I think your owls like me." Hawks chuckled, his huge crimson wings ruffling giddily when Gamma had begun to coo at his nuzzles, adoringly.

Jealousy. Blatant jealousy is what you felt. You weren't even going to attempt to hide it. You've tried endless times to get those birds to see you as their loving caretaker, showering them with love and treats and sating their every need, but to no avail. If anything, you think they see you the way a caged tiger would view its neglectful keeper, just a source of food.

You huff out a breath, subconsciously putting in more effort to mash the herbs together with the mortar and pestle than you wished.

Hawks noticed your subtle change in behavior. The way you slammed a small jar onto the counter, flicked off the cap, and aggressively shook out whatever was inside onto the cutting board. Or maybe it was the way you were mashing those herbs with a force that made him wonder if they'd somehow wronged you.

Of course; being him, he'd jumped to a brash conclusion. "Oh? Are you jelly that I'm giving the birds more attention than you?"

You stop your relentless mashing of compounds, staring ahead blankly for a moment before shaking your head. "Don't be ridiculous, I-"

"Awoh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, I completely understand."

"I'm jealous of you, actually."

Hawks blinked in confusion, lifting his head away from the owl's downy feathers and looking over at you.

"Seems like they fancy you more than they could ever me." A half-hearted smile tugged at your lips, the morose tone in your voice was inevitable.

Gamma's wide, intelligent eyes shifted to stare at you. It was like she understood every word you said. Her wings lifted, and with a few swift flaps, she was in the air. You flinched when she landed gracefully into your hair, her sharp talons clenching your head as gently as she could.

Hawks chuckled at how frozen you were in that moment, bringing up a hand to scratch Thaddeus on the chin as he stared. He marveled at the way your cheeks faintly turned a darker shade when Gamma had cooed. She'd began to pick at your head softly in a grooming mannerism.

Thaddeus shifted in Hawks' hair, suddenly growing restless.

"Wanna get closer?" Hawks asked him aloud, rhetorically, obliging to the small hoot he received in response and carefully sauntering over to you, wary of the unstable balance Thaddeus had while being on his head.

By the time he got close, you'd managed to settle Gamma down onto your outstretched bicep, but the stubborn owl only flapped back onto your head. The look on your face almost made Hawks laugh out loud, you were distraught. Torn between salvaging the rare chance at bonding with your companion, and continuing the preparation of a remedy for a paying customer.

He knew how much you cared for those birds, so much that he was willing to let you relish in the moment completely.

The smile on his face was somewhat solemn. "Don't fret witchy. I'm sure I can find some other witch who can cook up what I need."

Your brow ticked at the way he addressed you. "Excuse you. I am not a witch. I'm an Apothecary."

Hawks blinked. "Same difference."

You ignored that. "And even if you could somehow find another suitable Apothecary in the general area, I've been told by several patrons that I am the best of the best." You stated proudly, chin held up high in accordance. "The odds of finding someone more skilled than I are low to say the least."

He always enjoyed how confident you were in your craft. That confidence stemmed from true experience and skill, mastery even. You were right for claiming your profession to be deemed that high of a level, there hasn't been a single time in the past where your restoratives had let him down, no matter what their purpose served. He's glad that your clientele have spread the word of your little place, though they're restricted to hushed exchanges of whispers and secret notes passed in inconspicuous areas, out of the sight of any authorities.

The way you obtained some of your ingredients could be considered illegal if thorough investigation was to prosper, but luckily for you, that was yet to happen. No one was dubious of the little flower shop secluded between two towering office buildings at the farthest corner of the longest street in Kyushu. Hawks wouldn't dare run his mouth about its true nature to anyone, he would much rather heal his battle wounds naturally with one of your blends rather than the harsh steroids they'd stick into his body back at the commission.

"Can't deny that fact." Hawks chuckled, looking at you with apparent appreciation gleaming through his hooded eyes. "You've helped me through some tough calls, I don't think I-" He cut himself off in realization of something.

"I...I don't think I've ever thanked you."

You were quick to bring up the fact that he in fact spoiled you. Tipping you thousands over whatever price you'd ask for, as if money was nothing but a nuisance to him and he needed to get rid of as much of it as possible, it had you wondering if he would flaunt it around so carelessly wherever.

"That's different. Of course I'm gonna pay you in exchange for your meds, I'm not some shitbag. But I've never thanked you before."

Now that you think about it, it's true. The majority of times times he's come here, it's been in an urgent burst through the door, with little time on his hands to so much as greet you. You really can't recall a single time where he's thanked you, since he's usually in such a rush. Here one second, gone the next. His reputation stands firm.

Rarely have there ever been situations like this, where he's able to hang around the shop and wait patiently for you to get his order ready firsthand. You'd looked over your shoulder at him while he was appeasing the owls earlier. He had looked so calm, so sweet and tender in that moment, totally relaxed. It warmed your heart to see him like that.

His concern brought a smile to your face, how adorable to think that it would trouble him this much. "Hawks, trust me, you're fine. I know you're thankful. The proof is in the way that you pay literally five times as much as I could ever ask you for—more than that at times!"

Yup. That sounds like something he'd do, even he'll admit it. He distinctly recalls throwing a fat stack of cash at you in several of his hurried instances, not even bothering to ask for the price, or check how much was in the stack. He tilted his head aside and stuck out his lower lip in consideration of his own antics.

But that doesn't stop him from genuinely thinking that you deserve way more than what you make. You're taking one hell of a risk every time you sell another product to some shady person. He thinks you deserve to be appreciated more for that fact alone.

"Well, for what it's worth, thank you Y/n. Really, I mean it. What you do means a lot to me, more than I can put into words." He held your gaze with an adoration in his eyes that you didn't quite understand.

You've never seen seriousness cross that man's expression as well as it did right then.

He's perpetually cheerful and carefree, flirty more oftentimes than he should be. It surprised you seeing him so lacking in that notorious, glowing charisma. Maybe you'd go as far to say that in that moment, it looked like true joy was something he'd never experienced before. You couldn't even form words, rendered a gaping fish.

And maybe you would've actually taken his word for it, if it wasn't for you being reminded of the fact that the two of you had two big ass birds on your heads when Gamma and Thaddeus unexpectedly hooted in unison.

You and Hawks simultaneously broke eye contact to glance up at each other's birds, locking eyes with one another again.

It went silent for a few seconds.

Hawks' hard expression wavered hesitantly, his lip twitching in a futile attempt to remain serious. You then snorted quietly, biting your lip, and that's all it took for the two of you to burst out into a laughing fit that made you to bend over to clutch your sides, causing Gamma to flee from your head hastily and settle on her perch, Thaddeus following suit towards his respective stand when Hawks stumbled backwards a bit.

They'd managed to both ruin the moment and save it all the same, made it into something you didn't quite know you needed until it happened. A good laugh, one that had your face heating up and your cheeks beginning to hurt as the two of you only grew breathless with glee, struggling to keep your balance as you pressed your weight onto nearby objects to avoid toppling over.

The old Grandfather clock at the back of the shop had begun to chime, signaling the passing of another hour.

The sound caused Hawks to gradually come back down from his laugh-high. He submitted to that professional state of mind that subconsciously clawed at his back at times like these, once he was reminded of where he was supposed to be.

It was like someone snapped their fingers and all happiness was wiped from his face. Other than the faint pink still dusting his cheeks, it looked like the laugh that the two of you shared had never transpired.

You didn't even need to hear him say it. After you'd wiped a tear of joy from your eyes and regained your breath, you'd whirled around, right back to where you'd left off before.

A strange atmosphere settled into the shop. It grew peacefully silent, the rays of the setting sun stretched generously into the stop, accentuating gliding specs of dust in their path and lighting the room in a warm honey glow.

Hawks rolled his shoulders, wings reaching out to their maximum length in a comfortable stretch, as you bagged his things.

He'd requested a strong set of numbing-based remedies and other blends crammed with sedatives. It reminded you of the prep for some sort of illegal surgery, but you weren't one to meddle in the business of your customers.

You'd turned to hand him his bag, but were surprised when there was no sight of the man where he'd previously been.

It took a few glances around the room, you almost missed him at first, but there he was, standing before the display window, gazing distantly at the outside world under the evening glow.

Sometimes you'd catch a deep-rooted hardship in his eyes that was nearly impossible to detect. A flicker of something more, something lost long ago that he longs to have again. At times it looked like he was carrying the weight of the world in his wings and nobody knew it.

Or maybe your seclusion in your craft has run you crazy and you're just imagining it all. That's way more believable, anyway.

You'd walked up to his side, eyes trained on the lively cityscape. The city never slept, always bustling with some sort of commotion, but it was oddly calm on that evening. Nothing but nature in all its shapes and forms, like the gentle autumn breeze that shook the trees, like the songbirds softly jittering in a musical dialect only they understood, plus the ocasional car that would stroll by barely exceeding fifteen miles per hour.

Your gaze drifted back on Hawks, who has yet to notice your presence beside him.

Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that man’s mind, what challenges the relentless day brings him, and how he manages to come out smiling in the end.

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Alan Sharpe Yandere Alphabet (Slasher OC)

So I am aware I don’t even have an official character sheet or background information on this new yandere slasher of mine, however I find that some of these bits come to me in time. Plus, a bunch of small tidbits are in this alphabet post too. But I am always happy to answer asks about this boy cause it helps me get to know him a bit better too <3

The face claim is Kim Coates <3 I imagine Alan to be mid fifties in age.

Warnings for non con/dub con elements, uses of housewife/wife/kids/implied AFAB

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Alan is really emotionally and physically affectionate with his darling once he is certain they will accept it. He can be rather cold with someone who’s feisty or ungrateful and doesn't appreciate his love. He tends to go overboard spoiling his darling with material items and such, as money is no object for him. If he thinks something will make you happy he will do whatever it takes to get it for you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He will take care of whatever stands in the way between you and him. Ultimately he doesn't want to have to kill family or friends, but if they pose a threat to either of you or happen to find out his secrets they will have to go. Alan has people to take care of these things for him, but if they are a significant other or other love interest that makes him see red, he will take care of the matter himself. Violence and murder aren't new to him, when he was in his teens and early twenties he had a track record of hanging in the wrong crowds and going after anyone that stood in the way of his interests.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

If it were up to Alan, he would prefer to be sweet with you and as soon as he abducts you the two of you start the honeymoon phase of your relationship. But if you’re causing problems and trying to escape, he’ll treat you accordingly. He has no issue being cruel with you, getting into your head and insisting no one will love you like he can and how stupid you would have to be to not see the cushy life ahead of you, if only you accept his love. He doesn't really think its that hard of a choice.  

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He would rather not force you to do anything you don't want to. All Alan wants is for you to love him, after all. But if time goes on and you continue to fight him, he might take more drastic measures to prove just how much he wants you. If you are being more docile and submissive, he might push boundaries and grope you as a way of teasing, but he will likely be more willing to wait for you. He has needs, after all. 

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

In the beginning of the relationship, Alan keeps his deepest feelings close to his chest and only tells his darling of the inconsequential things in his life. He wants a housewife type of partner so he always seems to like venting to you about how rough of a day he had at the office taking care of things, and him wanting to hear the same about your day in return (not that you can even go anywhere during the day). After a long period of time and trust he will slowly start to talk about deeper things with you, really opening up about what he wants and desires in his life. 

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Alan hates it, but in a sick way he enjoys correcting your behavior. While he much prefers a more docile and sweet darling he will be more than happy finding a reason to take out his frustrations on the person who has been causing all these problems. If you were good, he wouldn't have to do this, you know. 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Love is something serious to Alan, and gets infuriated seeing his darling wanting to escape or attempting and failing. He will punish them accordingly, and hopefully they will learn their lesson. However, if his darling likes to indulge in bratty behavior but is still quite submissive and only wants to play, then he will be quite accommodating. He can be playful when he wants to, he just needs to feel comfortable enough to let that side of him out. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The worst would be when they finally realize how dedicated Alan is to having you be his. It could be watching him kill with his bare hands in front of you for the first time, snuffing out the life of someone you know (a lover or someone who just got too close to you for Alan's comfort), and watching the glee in Alan's face as he did it, all while insisting he was doing it to protect you. Another possible contender would be finding out just how long and thoroughly he had been stalking you, waiting until just the right moment to strike. Even building trust with you, playing the kind and caring boss that everyone loves before showing his darker possessive side to you when you finally figure out what's going on. Once kidnapped, he would even use your social media to trick your family and friends into believing the two of you were together in a happy relationship under the radar (if you happened to work for him) when in reality you were trapped in one of his many homes against your will. 

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Ultimately, Alan is looking for a partner to play out the parts of life that everyone his age for the most part already have. The wife, kids, happy family, the whole shebang. He wants a partner that will stay at home, even if they don't want to do housework he can hire someone for that. But he goes feral over the idea of coming home from a long day at the office and seeing his wife finishing dinner for him and the kids. He had far from the typical home life as a child and longs for the stability and normalcy of it. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Alan gets insanely jealous, but he tends to reserve his anger for those who intend to steal you away from him. If all things work out for Alan, he would want you by his side at all business outings, and in those situations he wouldn't mind the casual conversation of people commenting on your beauty and how lucky of a man he is. It makes him proud and he wants you to feel special as well. But as a man he knows the way they look at you with less innocent intentions, even if they would never act upon them. That's what makes Alan's blood boil. He would never lash out at you specifically unless you actively encouraged others to flirt with you in front of him. He will make them pay in one way or another. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

In public he is the perfect gentleman, having you place a hand on his inner arm as he walks around. He is also known to keep a hand on the small of your back or hip to keep you close to him. While he does worry about you slipping away from him, he is naturally just a very touchy man and likes to have you within arms reach constantly. Will often bring your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles absent-mindedly as well. 

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

The most likely scenario of him finding a partner would be through his work, and while office romance is obviously not permitted because he’s the boss, it doesn’t stop him from being friendly. No one ever suspects him of anything because he is so kind and genuine with everyone. For his love, he would often give them the same treatment as everyone else with a bit of extra meaning behind his words. He would never directly ask them out, but he would be extra attentive and listening to you speak when you have conversations. People would probably call them a brown noser before even thinking that Alan had other motives in mind. He doesn’t give presents mostly because he doesn’t want to be seen as too forward, but if the opportunity arises he will pay for lunch or the coffee at the shop he just happened to bump into you at. 

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Absolutely. For the boss of an established business with many important clients, he is all around a genuine good boss to his employees. When he took the business over from his father after he suddenly passed, he made sure he did the opposite of what his father did when it came to treating his employees well. When people look at him they see a genuinely kindhearted man that they can’t believe isn’t married, as everyone else around his age typically is. He was married once though not many people know about it and he prefers to keep that and the majority of his past hidden away from prying minds.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

If he is in a good mood there will be a lot of torturous edging on his part. Alan has been known to favor tying up his partner and leaving them for hours until he comes back later to take care of them. He also loves spanking and impact play, knowing just how much you can handle before you cry, though if you’ve been bad he just might want to see you cry a little. If Alan is in a bad mood his punishments will be harsher, the bindings tighter, and will be fine seeing your tears pour freely as you beg for him to slow down.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

When he first kidnaps you he will take away almost everything, especially any sort of phone or internet for you to reach the outside world. He makes sure to have things for you to occupy yourself with and even your favorite hobbies and books. But if you continue to disobey, more of those things will be taken away from you. Once you start getting used to life with Alan, he will slowly give you more privileges as he trusts you with them.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Alan is much more patient with a willing partner, especially if they’re shy or inexperienced. He will bend over backward to slowly ease your way into the sexual things he wants from you, though sometimes he might cross your boundaries simply to see what happens. If you’ve been nothing but ungrateful to him, he will have a lot less patience and be more forceful with what he wants from you. He still cares about you though, and would rather not force you to be with him but if you give him no choice he just might. 

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

While the odds of leaving or escaping under his watch are very small, nevertheless he would be heartbroken and furious at you. How could you not understand what he was offering you? Who would pass up such a comfortable life? Most likely he will have you back with him shortly whether by himself or from his hired men, and your punishment will make you seriously consider escaping again. A part of him is terrified about police intervention, but it would take a lot for you to be able to get them or anyone on your side, and he would have the evidence disposed of quickly if that’s the road you chose. If you were to die, that would be another story. He would never be able to forgive himself, blaming himself for your death constantly whether it was his fault or not. Alan might be able to move on one day, but if his darling were to die it would only make him more cruel and cold when it came to the next person he set his sights on.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

The only time Alan might ever feel guilty would be years later after you were in love with him and had given him children, he might feel remorse for how he went about it, wondering if he could have seduced you normally. However those thoughts don’t last long, and he wouldn’t want to change the circumstances for the world. 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Growing up as the son of a wealthy businessman and a high society woman, he has quite a bit of trauma. The majority was psychological abuse from his father constantly berating him for not being manly enough to take over the business, with Alan rebelling in every way he could just to make his father mad. His mother was rarely in the picture, as she did her own thing with her own people and rarely saw Alan. He was taken better care of by his nanny than either of his parents. The life he wants for himself is far removed from what he dealt with as a child.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

While he might feel bad for seeing his darling cry, he typically doesn’t feel bad seeing them upset. He knows this is an adjustment period for them, and eventually, they will calm down. If not, then he might see you as a spoiled brat who can’t think rationally.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Not sure if this is different, but he stalks his darling obsessively for a long period of time before kidnapping them. He uses all sorts of cameras and bugging equipment just to see you whenever he can’t be next to you. Alan needs to know everything about you for when you come to live with him and wants to make the transition as easy as possible.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

If his darling can find out anything about Alan’s past, it would be the closest thing they have to twist the metaphorical knife into his wounds. There are a lot of skeletons in his closet, some of them being things that were scrubbed from official records while others weren’t even found out. Be careful if you decide to go digging before he trusts you enough to tell you these things, he might have to hurt you horribly just for the breach of trust.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Definitely. While he emotionally manipulates them constantly into believing what he does is love, if push comes to shove he will physically harm his darling to make sure they don’t escape again. A broken arm or leg wouldn’t be unheard of with Alan, and one should be lucky if they get away with that little.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

To Alan, you are his entire world, a chance for him to start a family and have the normal life he always wanted. He would worship the ground you walk on, making sure you knew every second of every day how much he loved and cherished you, his savior. And if you don’t believe him, he will go to the ends of the earth and do whatever you ask within reason to prove to you just how much he loves you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Alan might last at most a year simply watching his darling, especially if there is no competition from other partners. If someone else comes into the picture, Alan is quick to speed his plan along and kidnap you away before you can even grow attached to this person.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

While the sadistic part of him loves the idea of breaking his darling down, he ultimately wants them to accept him of their own free will. He might push and push until you bend under his will, but unless he is at his wit’s end he will do his best to keep you from completely breaking.