#no relationship for someone to rub my back or make me the copious amounts of hot chocolate ive been drinking

[napping-sapphic]

*seduces you with my sexy lingering covid cough*

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 (𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐂)

— charles’ girlfriend likes to wake up a little earlier every morning in order to take her time getting ready. charles tries to wake up a little earlier, too. (1.2k words)

+ more than inspired by my need to wake up hours before i realistically need to (and then complain about how tired i am)

+ fluff ! mentions of reader wearing make-up but nothing overly specific !

gentle clattering served as charles’ alarm clock as he pried his eyes open, rubbing at them clumsily to rid his vision of the bleariness that came with just waking up. a throaty grumble escaped his lips, the sound coming from deep in his chest as he pushed himself up onto an elbow.

after a long overdue movie night, charles had spent the night at your place, something he would never, ever complain about. somehow, sleep always came to him much easier when he was by your side, wrapped in sheets that harboured the smell of your perfume.

though you'd already left the bed, currently sitting at your dressing table as you laid out your skincare products, charles could still feel the warmth of your body travelling along the mattress and up his body like vines of ivy.

time wasn't important to him right now, but he could assume that it was fairly early.

despite your incredibly sleepy nature, you'd surprised charles towards the beginning of your relationship by revealing to him that you quite enjoyed waking up a little earlier in order to take your time getting ready.

rushing to get out of the door was something that always provided you with feelings of anxiety, and you could never shake the thought that you'd forgotten something important. this way, you could slowly wake yourself up and spend a little more time focusing on yourself, an idea charles couldn't find fault in.

any amount of love and care shown towards you was welcomed by charles with open arms.

whilst charles' job required him to be a morning person, thanks to early training sessions and odd schedules on race weekends, it by no means meant that he was magically transformed into someone who delighted in waking up before the sun rose.

dragging himself into the gym at ridiculous hours in the morning required copious alarms and a boatload of motivation, but somehow when it came to this - watching the love of his life follow the same routine she performed almost daily - mornings felt easier.

"good morning, baby," charles said, deliberately keeping his voice low so as not to startle you. the words were thick with sleep, almost slurred together and syrupy, and a smile immediately rose to your face at the sound.

"g’morning love. sorry, did i wake you?"

a fond expression washed over charles' face as you turned to look at him over your shoulder, moisturiser poised in one hand ready for you to use. he shook his head gently, messy chestnut hair falling a little into his eyes.

"no, no, you're fine," he assured, throwing in a gentle smile to fully placate you.

and it was true. charles wasn't woken by the noise - or lack thereof - that you were making. it was as though his body had subconsciously realised you were awake and moving, and had forced his eyes open so he could savour every last second with you, satisfying his desire to get as much of you to himself as he possibly could.

water, oxygen, food, and you: those were the four things charles was certain he required for survival.

noticing that your eyes were still fixed on him, his upper body bare above the crumpled sheets of your bed, a lazy smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his words took on a teasing tone.

"don't let me distract you, baby. keep getting ready."

you playfully rolled your eyes at his teasing, ignoring the way that his words made heat bubble beneath your cheeks. it was nothing a cooling moisturiser couldn't fix, and you relished in the feeling of the cream on your tired skin as you turned back to face your mirror.

meanwhile, charles was utterly mesmerised, transfixed by the glimpse of your reflection he was granted from his spot in bed. 

how you could be performing a task charles had seen countless times before and still spark flames of awe in his heart should have been baffling, but to charles it all made sense.

everything about you set him alight, provoked a jolt of white hot electricity that ran through his veins and left him breathless. yet at the same time, you were the epitome of comfort and peace. your effect on him was far too powerful, so much so that it could break the rules of the universe and cause his heart to both pound and stop simultaneously. 

charles settled back against the plush pillows, stretching his arms above his head with a soft grunt before letting them fall to rest against his stomach. 

even in your silly fluffy headband, designed to look like a snail and complete with two eye-stalks, you were striking to him. every movement was fluid and precise, and it reminded him a little of himself in the car.

just as he knew every button of the steering wheel like it were an extension of his own body, had learned exactly where the breaking points were on each track and tuned himself into the car's movements, you had perfected your own artistry. your hand never faltered as it moved from product to product, and you barely batted a sleepy eye as you followed the routine you had down to a tee.

the two of you had fallen into a comfortable silence, not wanting to break the tranquil air that an early morning provided. now and again, you would meet his eye in the mirror and stick your tongue out at him, a gesture which he would return without hesitation. 

it took about twenty or so minutes for charles’ body to begin to wake up, finally registering that the man wouldn’t be trying to get back to sleep any time soon. though his eyes were still a little heavy, charles swung his legs over the edge of the bed and made his way to his feet, muffling a yawn into the palm of his hand.

he padded over to you, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder and peer at you through the mirror. 

“mm,” you mumbled, relaxing into his warmth. “hi, sleepyhead.”

charles pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before running a thumb lovingly over the spot that his stubble had grazed, attempting to reverse any disturbance to the makeup you’d carefully applied moments ago.

“hello beautiful.”

reluctantly, charles stood up to his full height and flicked one of the headband’s fuzzy stalks with a look of fondness before speaking.

“gonna go make us some coffee. don’t miss me too much”

even with his teasing tone, you almost melted at his words, sure that when charles returned he’d find a pile of sweet, syrupy goo in your place.

charles never needed to tell you how much he loved you - though he never missed an opportunity to do so. instead, your boyfriend preferred to show you, actions speaking louder than words as the famous phrase said.

so, if waking up early on his rare days off to watch you get ready and make you a coffee made your smile a little brighter and your day a little easier, charles would take the mid-day crash he was inevitably going to experience.

anything was worth it when it came to you.

[lost-my-sanity]

Late night thoughts under the stars

The crew was winding down from another celebration, many drinks were shared, songs were sung, and copious amounts of meat was eaten. I was tired but not enough to start heading to bed. I had a lot on my mind… well, he was on my mind again.

The moss haired swordsman, the first mate of my crew. Lately things have been a bit tense between us. We’d often gravitate towards one another, finding solace in our conversations. I’ve always found him attractive, the rippling muscles underneath his shirt, the way he swung his swords with such intensity and precision, and how no matter how hard he tried, his internal compass was completely broken.

Zoro was one of the people I felt closest to on the crew. We’d often take naps next to one another, sit near each other during parties and celebrations and even late at night when either of us was supposed to be on watch, we’d find ourselves deep in conversation. We were dangerously close to the point where we could easily call ourselves some sort of relationship other than platonic. There was a few instances of drunken kisses stolen under the stars, but in the morning it was as if it never happened.

As I was lost in my thoughts of the swordsman, it was as if he felt the calling of my heart because he sat down next to me and wrapped a strong arm over my shoulder.

“You’re doing it again.” He stated bluntly, a small smirk upturning the corner of his mouth.

“What do you mean, Zo’?” I asked, brows knitted in confusion.

“You’re getting lost in your thoughts. What’s going on in that mind of yours?” He stated, the hand on my shoulder giving a soft yet firm squeeze.

“Do you really wanna know?” I ask in a soft voice, not sure if I was ready to open this can of worms or not.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care” he spoke, words firm and honest.

“Well… I’ve been thinking about you… thinking about us.” I said, taking a deep breathe waiting on his reply.

“Oh?” He breathed out as well.

“What about us?” He asked, and eyebrow raised

“How I’m tired of pretending I don’t like you… how we should just get our heads out of our asses and give us a real shot”

I spoke, determined that if I was going to confess that I’d make sure there was no way to misinterpret it.

“Well..” he paused for a moment, his face blank for a second, which caused my heart to beat in my chest even harder.

“Okay…” he stated blinking slowly.

“I.. I guess I’m in the same boat” he confessed as well.

My eye brows shot up, not really believing that this would be what he would say.

“Okay… let’s do this then.” He stated, firm in his resolution.

“You really mean it Zo? There’s no going back once we start this.. I don’t do anything by halves you know this” I said with a smile.

“Yeah, I know you don’t” he joked back.

“Honestly, I think we’re ready. Why should we wait and pretend that we wouldn’t be good together? We basically are dating anyway, but now I’ll be able to officially call you mine” he spoke, rubbing my shoulder softly.

“You’ve been mine for a while now, and I’ve been yours.. I have no desire to entertain the idea of being with someone else.” He spoke, and a wave of relief washed over me.

I pulled him in closer, his nose touching my own, as I stared into those beautiful eyes I’ve spent countless nights dreaming of, I knew this was the right choice. I pressed my lips against his for the first time without the added courage of alcohol in my system.

He returned it in earnest, matching my rhythm easily. It was like we were in perfect sync. I pulled my head back and rested my forehead against his, knowing that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

[forever-rogue]

I got a whole 4 hours of sleep today and have to pull a 12 hour shift. So I apologize if it doesn’t make sense, I am new to the Bucky fandom!

I like the idea of his grumpy, refusing to let anyone in, be slowly ground down by reader, but teeters back and forth until reader is in some sort of trouble. Then the flood gates of vulnerability open because he was worried about them. I mean he hasn’t been with anyone since the 40s right? Would he still know how to navigate caring about someone in that way? I don’t know. It was something that has been buzzing around in my head for a week.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: langauge, vague description of sex (minors dni!)

BUCKY MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You’d started out as neighbors - nothing more and nothing less. 

Neighbors turned into causal acquaintances, fueled by your constant baking and copious amounts of goodies. Casual acquaintances turned into friends that would spend an occasional evening watching television together. Friends quickly turned into best friends that became utterly inseparable....with the occasional hook-up. You were hesitant to call it friends with benefits because that just sounded so crass. It was more like best friends with the occasional stress relief.

Stress relief. Sure that worked.

None that you wouldn’t have minded more of course. But you weren’t about to make a move on James Buchanan Barnes and ask him out on a date. No, you knew your place and his. He was physically akin to a god, mixed in with a bit of fuck boy, and yet...you loved him. You’d fallen hard and fast for the man that had gone from a mere stranger to a welcome and comfortable part of your life. But you’d never tell him that. 

No, nope, hell no. Bucky surely didn’t reciprocate your feelings and you’d never been the type to make a move first. 

Besides that...Bucky didn’t exactly strike you as a relationship type of guy. You’d seen him here and there with a girl or two, but it wasn’t anything serious. And since the two of you had started hooking up, you’d never noticed anyone else. And you hadn’t been with anyone else either. It was akin to a non-exclusive exclusive not-really-a-relationship relationship. Neither of you pushed it any further - you both accepted dates here and there but they never amounted to anything. Wonder why?

Unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t that Bucky didn’t want a relationship - he did. He did very much with you. But he just...there was something about being a one hundred and six year-old man that just left him confused and worried. He hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to date much and now that he had the time it reminded him of just how different things were. Dating was this weird confused jumble, but you were a clear and obvious bright spot. He had his doubts that you’d ever want anything more from him. He knew what he was - a mostly stable old man with a body that people seemed to enjoy. He made the most of that - it didn’t seem like people were interested in getting to know him much these days. 

But you did - you always did. And, gods, he’d fallen hard for you - the kind of love that makes your stomach churn and heart feel like bursting and steals your breath away no matter how long it’s been. But what the fuck would you want with him? He’s a fossil with a boatload of mental trauma and even more sass and attitude.

You deserved the world and he only had himself to give. Of course, he was enough - way more than enough - but he didn't believe that. 

There had been numerous occasions when you'd tried to be honest, to confess your true feelings, but you'd always managed to fall short. Every time you got close, something came up. And after the last girl you'd seen him with, you vowed to take your secret to the grave. 

You had come close though - so close - especially the last time you'd hooked up.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were under Bucky, both of you naked and panting as you quickly approached your highs. He was buried deep inside you, head dropped to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nipping and biting at the delicate skin. 

Your legs were wrapped around his waist in order to hold him close. One of your hands was laced together with his while the other was wrapped around his neck. There was something so perfectly harmonious about how you always were together. 

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, James, James, James as he kept going. It was the only time you called him anything but Bucky. As your vision had grown hazy and you felt that familiar warm start to blood your veins, you’d let your true feelings slip. It was so easy, so effortless and in the moment it just...happened.

I love you. 

The declaration hung in the air as you felt your walls clamp around him and he reached his own eyes. That’s when you’d realized what you’d done. This time it was an entirely different sensation radiating throughout your bones - terror. Utter terror.

But if Bucky had heard your three little words he made no mention of them. Relief washed over you as you came to the conclusion that he was just as wrapped up in his own blissful haze that he simply hadn’t heard you. You were safe this time - but you’d have to be extra cautious from here on out.

Oh, but Bucky had heard you. Loudly and clearly. He chose to ignore your words because he was positive that he hadn’t heard you incorrectly. Surely you hadn’t meant to say that - and more importantly, it was a mistake. As much as he loved hearing those words from your pretty lips, he knew it was either an accident or a figment of his imagination. 

You both pretended that nothing had happened. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky rolled his eyes lightly as he watched his phone light up with a call from Sam. He was half tempted to ignore it but decided to answer anyway; he was bored and the call might lead to something to do. You’d normally be hanging out with him on a Friday night, but his calls and texts had gone unanswered.

“Hey man,” Bucky picked up the call and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer, “what’s up?”

“You need to get to the hospital,” Sam was speaking so quickly that it all came out in a single slew of words as Bucky’s brows knitted together.

“I know I don’t have a lot going on this Friday night, but I think I’m okay,” he snorted as he opened the bottle and took a swig.

“No, no, no,” Sam interrupted by almost whispering your name, “there’s been an accident. She was hurt and taken to the ER. I was on the phone with her when it happened - just come. Now.”

Bucky didn’t even wait for Sam to finish before he dropped the beer and ran out the door. His whole body felt like it was growing numb and the only thing on his mind was you. You couldn't be hurt...you just couldn’t. Bucky couldn’t imagine any sort of reality in which you weren’t there. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as he ran into the hospital, seeking out the emergency room, he was asking about you. He looked probably just as crazy as he felt as he was nervously directed to your room. He almost jogged down the hall and into your small space. Sam stood at the end of your bed, looking down at you with a concerned expression.

“What the hell happened?” Bucky could barely bring himself to look at you as you laid on the small bed, looking so helpless and fragile. You were sleeping, sedated from lots of heavy drugs, but hooked up to several beeping machines. Your arm was in a cast already, bruises and contusions and cuts littered every bit of your skin that he could see. His heart plummeted into his stomach. 

“She was crossing the street and got hit by a car that didn’t slow down enough in time,” Sam’s heavy was heavy as he rubbed at his tired, “I heard it all happen, Buck. It was terrible - but she’s strong. She’s going to be okay. No internal damage, luckily, but she’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while. The arm’s broken.”

“Jesus,” Bucky sighed as Sam nodded.

“I called her parents and they’ll be here soon. She’s just sleeping but hopefully will wake up soon.”

“Okay,” Bucky took a hesitant step closer.

“She asked for you,” Sam hadn’t been sure if he should have confessed that little part or not, “when they were bringing her in. Kept repeating your name. You should just tell her, you know. She’s obvious she feels the same. Don’t be idiots.”

“Thanks,” Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically as the two men shared a quick laugh before Sam hugged him, “I’ll stay here if you want to go. You’ve done a lot already. Thank you for calling me.”

“I got you man,” Sam gave him a half smile, “call me if you need anything at all...or if anything happens.”

“Goodbye.”

As soon as his friend left, Bucky came over to you, his fingers grazing the side of the small, horrid looking bed. He was going to help you however you needed it for however long it would take till you were better and out of pain. If he had the choice, he wouldn’t ever leave your side again.

This whole time he’d been so dumb, so silly. He should have just told you how he left - a long time ago and gotten over himself. A heavy sigh escaped him as you pulled up the uncomfortable plastic chair and took a seat next to you.

He gently, ever so delicately reached for the hand that was in the cast and held it in his. It almost made him laugh with how much smaller your hand was than his. They fit perfectly together.

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept, wondering when you’d wake up. He hoped soon - so he could finally tell you all of those unspoken words. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“James?” a croaky, dry voice met his ears as his tired eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision before focusing on you. You were looking back at him with a tired, sleepy little smile on your features. You looked beautiful, so damn beautiful, despite the blues and purples painting your skin, “what are you doing here?”

He must have fallen asleep at some point during the night. He was still holding your hand. He beamed back at you, “hi pretty girl. Sam called me and told me what happened. I came right over.”

“I’m anything but pretty right now,” you laughed lightly but quickly grimaced at the pain, “how long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday evening,” he confessed quickly, “I didn’t want to leave - wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh Bucky,” there was that saccharine little smile on your face. The same one he loved so much, “you didn’t have to. I...I really fucked up movie night, huh?”

“I’m in love with you.”

He finally got those damn words out before he could change his mind or think too much about it. Your face immediately lit up with a grin as you searched his cerulean eyes. 

“Do you mean it?” you asked softly as he nodded, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks.

“Of course.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” you replied, giving his hand a tight squeeze, “I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he whispered as he leaned closer to you, “because I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl. Not now, not ever.”

“I don’t want you to, Bucky,” you promised, “I want you with me always.”

“That sounds perfect to me.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[teawaffles]

Albert’s Drinking Contest: Chapter 3 / End

Note: Some language.

“G-Goddammit……”

“No way, how……?”

Roughly twenty minutes had passed.

And with their glasses in hand, Moran and Louis were both gasping in agony.

Once the match had resumed, the three participants had attacked their glasses, consuming drink after drink like a surging tide. Now that Louis had been saved the trouble of approaching the other two time and again to fill their glasses, the rate at which the wine now entered them had seen a remarkable jump.

Although Louis was not a strong drinker to begin with, his sheer determination to prevail had allowed him to keep pace with his veteran opponents: at this point, he’d already downed a comparable portion of wine.

However, even mental willpower had its limits. Back when he’d consumed his twentieth glass, the intoxication had hit Louis like a brick, and a wave of dizziness swamped him. From then on, Louis had placed his spectacles on the table, and repeatedly rubbed the inner corners of his eyes in a bid to chase away that sense of vertigo.

Now, Louis was attempting his thirtieth glass of wine since he’d entered the match. In other words, Moran and Albert had already drunk an astonishing 51 glasses.

Even as they moaned like spirits of the dead, both Louis and Moran tried to fill their glasses for the next round; but the hands that held those glasses kept trembling, and wine spilled onto the table many times over.

“——This is truly an excellent wine. With this flavour, I can enjoy myself twice as much.”

On the other hand, Albert was still in perfect shape.

Having long finished preparing his next glass, Albert looked at his two opponents, barely able to hold their own glasses, as if watching them from on high.

Despite having consumed an extraordinary quantity of alcohol, he was still unperturbed, and enjoying the taste of the wine. With unfocused eyes, Louis turned to look at his oldest brother.

“Ha, haha — as expected of you, nii-sama.”

In the face of this overwhelming presence, his own powerlessness seemed almost hilarious in comparison, and he chuckled as if he’d given up.

“This isn’t, the time to be, laughing, Louis……”

Moran thumped his back, in an effort to coax some life back into him. But that gesture was much too weak, and looked as though he was simply trying to soothe a badly drunk man.

Yet perhaps that move had worked, for then, Louis knocked back his entire glass. Following suit, both Moran and Albert drained their glasses too.

“Well then, we’ve finally reached the thirtieth glass.”

Watching the three of them, William announced the tally with dispassion. But at this point, it wasn’t clear if his voice had even reached Louis and Moran.

Having reached a nice round number, it seemed Louis was starting to loosen up. With the last ounces of his strength, he turned his head, and looked at Moran beside him.

“Mr Moran. My apologies, but it looks like, this is my end……”

“Wha…… Oi, hang in there, Louis!”

But his desperate plea went unanswered. The moment Louis uttered those final words, just like Fred, he slumped onto the table.

“L-Louis……”

Half-dazed, Moran mumbled the name of the fallen — and William swiftly appeared by his brother’s side.

“You’ll catch a cold if you fall asleep here, Louis.”

Gently, he tucked the blanket he’d prepared around Louis’s shoulders.

Albert looked on in concern.

“William, is Louis alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, it seems he’s just asleep for now.”

“…………”

The two brothers looked on at their youngest sibling, now keeled over; but even as Moran too fretted over his condition, a sense of admiration and gratitude towards the man had grown within him. Despite being drawn into the match, Louis had pressed on and fought alongside him to get this far. If Moran himself hadn’t been so sozzled, he would even have wanted to give the man a huge round of applause.

However, even those ardent emotions dwindled with time. For Moran was now back to square one — as the only player standing up to Albert — and that lonesome despair weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Here was an opponent so tough, that even someone who’d joined halfway had been no match for him.

That raw power sent a chill down Moran’s back. Desperately trying to hold his vision steady, he glared at Albert.

“……How the hell are you still alive?”

Through his hazy consciousness, Moran barely managed to utter that one phrase. Although it’d come from his own lips, to him, it sounded as if it’d been said by someone else far away.

Albert shifted his gaze from Louis to Moran.

“It’s not so surprising, is it? I just genuinely enjoy drinking wine, Colonel.”

“This is no longer in the realm of ‘enjoyment’, innit……”

Perhaps his inebriation had finally tipped over into delirium: at that moment, the sight of Albert lounging with a glass in hand looked almost like that of the devil.

And finally, that time had come.

“Oh, shit——”

In his final moments, with every last ounce of strength he had within him, Moran uttered that cheap curse.

And in an instant, as if someone had flipped a switch — he blacked out. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, he collapsed onto the table in front of Albert, and began to snore loudly.

“Looks like…… it’s settled, then.”

Watching the sleeping figures of Fred, Louis, and now Moran, William announced the end of the match.

And thus, on this memorable night, the drinking contest had ended in complete victory for the preternaturally strong Albert.

“……Mm?”

Around thirty minutes after that, Fred — who’d been the first to drop out — opened his bleary eyes.

Blinking, he slowly sat up, and saw Moran and Louis fast asleep in a row beside him, with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. Why Louis too?, he thought; but seeing that sight before him, at the very least, he somehow understood that the match was over.

Perhaps it was inevitable, but it had ended in a crushing defeat for Moran, Louis and him.

“Good morning, Fred; though the sun hasn’t risen yet.”

Someone called out to him from the side — by reflex, Fred’s gaze snapped toward the voice, and he saw William smiling gently at him, seated in the same spot from earlier. Beside him was Albert.

“……How long has it been?”

Since he already knew how the match had turned out, for now, still a little groggy, Fred enquired as to how long he’d been unconscious.

“It’s been around thirty minutes since the end of the match. So that makes it around two hours since you passed out,” said William. “It’s past midnight now.”

That voice had a somewhat comforting note to it, as if he was worried for Fred, who’d just awakened from the depths of drunkenness.

Then Albert — who was still enjoying his wine — spoke up in concern.

“Still, the colonel has done this time and again without learning his lesson. Even though wine is a luxury to be savoured and enjoyed.”

“Although you’ve beaten him every time, it seems that argument has yet to persuade him otherwise.”

Looking at Albert, who seemed to be functioning perfectly despite everything, William shrugged in amazement.

Fred had no clue as to how exactly how much wine Albert had ended up drinking; but from the wryness of William’s smile, he could at least tell that it was an amount beyond an ordinary person’s imagination.

Once again, Fred reflected on how it’d been a mistake in itself to challenge this monster to a fight.

“Although Moran seems to have given it his all this time around, as I thought: he was no match for you, nii-san.”

As if narrating Fred’s thoughts, William looked back on the outcome of the battle. Then, Albert picked up a bottle that still contained some liquor.

“Won’t you join me for a bit, William? Just to enjoy the wine.”

Despite having consumed a copious amount of alcohol, Albert was still game for more. But William waved a hand in refusal.

“I won’t. Anyway, I already had my fill over dinner.”

“That’s a pity; now that it’s just the two of us, I’d wanted to discuss its flavour at length with you.”

Saying that, Albert tilted his glass, and gently brought it to his lips. That gesture looked almost as if it’d been calculated down to the millimetre — the atmosphere surrounding him truly befitted that of a British aristocrat.

“…………”

William, the pivotal intellect of their organisation, and Albert, who was speaking to him.

Gazing vacantly at the two men, a thought suddenly struck Fred.

——How did this man come to be what he was today?

Albert had been born and raised as a noble — in this stratified society, he was considered part of the upper class.

But despite the position bestowed upon him by his birth, he had not sunk into the degenerate practices of the nobility; instead, his heart ached for the twisted nature of their country, and he wished to overturn it from its very foundations.

And the catalyst for all that, had been the two brothers he’d picked up.

Rather than indulging in their social positions and means, the Moriarty brothers instead refined their intellect and abilities with unyielding force of will, thus turning themselves into the “Lord of Crime” — an existence working in the shadows of Britain’s underworld.

Fred looked at Louis, asleep to his side, and then at William and Albert, who were engaged in conversation.

It was almost as if they’d been destined to meet.

——Could I, too, get closer to them?

Despite not being related by blood, Albert saw William and Louis as his brothers — the bonds between them were strong. In that case, perhaps Fred’s relationship with them could become even closer than what it was now.

Secretly, that thought blossomed in Fred’s heart.

“Well then, it’s getting late, so we should call it a night. Seeing as they’re asleep, what should we do with Louis and the colonel?”

Paying no heed to Fred’s longing gaze, Albert drained the last of his wine, and calmly got to his feet. Remaining seated, William spoke.

“Since they’re so soundly asleep, I’d hate to rouse them; let’s leave them be a while longer.”

“I see. Then I shall remain as well.”

Listening in to their conversation, all of a sudden, Fred remembered the important agreement that’d been made at the start of the match.

Nervously, he asked after Albert.

“Um, since I’ve lost, I suppose the forfeit will fall on me too……?”

Simply owing to the fact that he’d participated in the drinking contest, as one of the defeated parties, Fred had resigned himself to accepting the loser’s penalty.

However, Albert smiled.

“Aah, no need to worry about that. As you know, this match is a personal matter between the colonel and myself; I’m sorry you got caught up in it.”

“N-no, you don’t have to apologise. Even though it was a rather sudden turn of events, it was still my own decision to participate.”

At that unexpected apology, Fred waved both hands weakly. But Albert kept up that elegant smile of his as he continued.

“You don’t have to concern yourself with the forfeit. Well, even if I were fine with him doing it, the colonel would just be a right bother; so I’d be grateful if you could just tidy up the glasses we’ve used tonight.”

“T-Thank you very much.”

Having expected a bigger penalty, Fred was grateful for Albert’s magnanimity. In his heart, he heaved a sigh of relief, and proceeded to clear the glasses.

As he did so, Albert turned to look at Louis, who was still fast asleep.

“And since Louis was also caught up in this, I’ll exempt him as well.”

Then his focus shifted to Moran, who was slumped beside Louis.

“……Instead, I suppose I’ll have to give the colonel a proper punishment.”

“…………”

Although his voice had been calm, a disquieting feeling lingered around those words. Hearing that, even the agile Fred had unwittingly stopped in his tracks.

In place of Fred, whose face had paled, William asked after Albert with a wry smile.

“Nii-san, exactly what kind of punishment will you be giving him?”

Albert’s tone remained calm as always.

“Let’s keep that a secret for now. But no matter what it’ll be, I’m sure all of you can look forward to it.”

Saying that, Albert smiled. It was elegant to a fault.

“…………”

As he took the empty glasses, Fred looked at the sleeping Moran.

He’d set up this contest of his own accord: he had it coming for him. And yet, as Fred thought about what lay in store tomorrow for the man he saw as an older brother, he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry.

Just like this, the night to commemorate the founding of MI6, had drawn to a close.

T/N: …Do I really want to know what Albert’s gonna make him do? (ohoho)

Translator’s notes

Drinking capacities

I thought I’d summarise their relative strengths at drinking :3 From weakest to strongest:

Fred (<20 glasses)

Louis (30)

Moran (52)

Albert (52, and then some)

Though William didn’t participate in the end (aww), I would think he’s on par with Louis, and maybe even a bit stronger too.

The illustration

The illustration shows Moran slumped on a tiny coffee table of sorts; but I’m wondering where Louis and Fred are, since they were described as being asleep on the table beside Moran... Perhaps this is an incongruity between the story and the illustration?

[eureka-its-zico]

Damage

Request: You meet JB in a bar and have a one-night stand

A/N: My friend has asked me for JB fics none stop. I haven’t been able to finish one, because I get stuck in my head and think everything is trash. I think this one is okay, at best. I’ve edited as much as my eyes can stand. Either way, she seemed to enjoy it. I hope you all enjoy it in some way too. Much Love, Jenn

p.s. It’s named Damage because I literally had the song of the same name from H.E.R playing on repeat the entire time.

Jaebum X Reader

Genre: SmUt

Words:5534

Warnings: semi-public sex, rough play, some ass-slaping - you get the picture -

There was a time that the idea of sleeping with a complete stranger from a bar would’ve never crossed your mind. It wasn’t that you were a prude. A part of you secretly wanted to know what it felt like to be so overwhelmed by another that they made you less cautious and more adventurous. No one ever seemed able to stir that emotion in you, however. 

Until you’d met JB. 

Now, as his fingers traced across your skin, his lips kissed at the hollow of your neck, you couldn’t imagine an alternate universe where you didn’t say yes. Where you weren’t pressed into the backseat of a stuffy cab not caring that you had an audience while JB’s hand made its way between your thighs. His mouth hungrily lapping up your moan as his fingers slid under the edge of your panties. 

A part of you should’ve felt embarrassed. You were passengers in this cab. The obvious audience of the older man up front would’ve normally made you shove his hand away with your cheeks pink; pretending to care if they watched. 

But JB was a force you weren’t used to. One that threatened to consume you and god, did you want to be consumed. 

EARLIER

————————-

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t be sad forever about that asshole.” 

Your fingers skimmed the paper of your beer smearing an image of a heart in the condensation. Your teeth drawing in your bottom lip as you thought about what your friend was saying. Of course, she was right. It was two weeks, give or take, since you broke up with Mark. You’d had your days of wallowing, eating copious amounts of ice cream, and crying on the couch watching rom-coms and asking why can’t your life be like this? 

There wasn’t any doubt your ex wasn’t off doing the same. Hell, he’d made sure to take pictures of his latest escapades and made sure to share it to his social media. Not that you were looking at any of it or anything. 

“You’re right,” you huffed out in defeat. 

Why was it so hard to let him go? It wasn’t like he’d had such a hard time deciding to end your relationship. 

“I’m sorry. What was that? Can you say it a little louder for me please I’m hard of hearing.”

You shot her a look of disbelief that sent her head falling back with laughter. 

“This one time you might be a little bit right.”

You took a swig of your drink to hide your own smile. 

“Plus, how can you be sad over that loser when the hottest dude is five feet away.”

You followed her eyes to see what had her making such a bold claim. There were plenty of good looking men and women in the bar. How could one person possibly hold the title when your opinion could be different? 

It wasn’t. 

You found him easily. No longer needing the guide of your friend to find who it was that’d caught her attention. And sweet Jesus he was hands down the best looking in the room. 

He was leaning up against the wall. His eyes half crescent moons as he smiled. One hand holding a beer that was close to his lips as he replied back to whatever his friend said. You shamelessly watched how his lips wrapped around the bottle to take a drink. The sharpness of his jaw and the expanse of his neck. 

You wanted to know what he looked like with his mouth on you and tasting the sweetness between your thighs. 

The desire for it caused your legs to squeeze together to give yourself any sort of friction. Your mind still going over the fantasy you were creating with him in the starring role. Suddenly, he was looking back at you. A harsh blush rose to your cheeks at being caught but refused to look away. 

God! What am I doing?! 

You’ve never been the one to make the first move. Of any kind. Eye contact felt like a first move of showing interest, but you were more than interested and a part of you wondered if he could see it. See that even this far between your spaces in the bar how badly you wanted to know how he tasted. 

A gasp brought your attention back to the position of your friend. Her mouth agape in shock but that threatened to spill into a smile at any moment. 

“Hollleeeeey shit! Did you just give that guy ‘fuck me eyes’ from across the bar?”

You scoffed at the idea before shooting a cautionary look back in his direction. Using your elbows that were on the top of the bar you swiveled yourself to face the many rows of liquor. Fighting the urge to look back at him again or acknowledge your friend bouncing in her seat. 

“Yes you fuckin did!”

Your reply was a quick swig of your drink as you tried your best not to grimace at the taste. You’d been babysitting it too long and now it was lukewarm. 

“I've had my heart broken. I’m not dead,” you replied. 

“Let’s go over and talk to them!”

Your head whipped in her direction so fast you swore you’d ended up with whiplash. Yes, you were looking. And yes, this man did provoke unholy fantasies, but that didn’t mean you were ready to be that close. 

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. I think this will be good for you.”

She ignored your burst of panic and waved down the bartender who acknowledged her sooner than you would’ve liked. 

“What can I get you ladies.”

“Two shots of tequila, please.”

“What are you doing?” 

She wiggled her brows at you and rubbed her shoulder up against yours. Her weak attempt to pump you up with excitement for whatever diabolical thing she’d planned. 

“Just a little liquid courage before we head on over.”

“Heading towards the door, you mean.”

Your words came out as a grumble. A pout setting in as the bartender set down the small glasses in front of the two of you. Which she quickly slid hers to click beside yours. 

“You, my lovely friend, are going to have both.”

“Are you trying to give me alcohol poisoning?”

“Nope. Just trying to help you get some guiltless sex with a stranger.”

“Wow. You’re so amazing,” you deadpanned. Your hand snacking out to grab one of the shot glasses downing the first one. You were sure the reaction you were having looked like a cartoon character. God, this stuff was disgusting. “I’m pretty sure that stuff causes forest fires.” 

The bartender offered you a lemon, amusement flashing in his eyes. You were hoping he could see the thank you in yours with your mouth shoved full of lemon. 

You left it sitting in your mouth; teeth clenched tight against the softness and the peel exposed between your lips. You wondered if this was picture worthy and received your answer moments later when your friends’ camera flashed in your face. Your vision erupting in sparks of dark spots that left you unable to see. 

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

With the peel still held between your lips you made a face at her. Her mouth opened to reply, and suddenly it closed. Her eyes wide and darting from you to whoever was now perched beside you. 

You remembered you still had a shot left and decided it was time to meet your fate. Your legs moved to turn you to sit straight on the stool when you realized someone was beside you at the bar. In perfect horror movie fashion, you glanced at your right and saw the man who’d caused your need for liquid courage. 

He was just there. His body casually leaning against the bar with an air of coolness that didn’t seem forced. He was talking with the bartender. The two of them locked in a conversation like they were old friends and catching up. Maybe they were. 

Up close he was even more striking. His hair was perfectly slicked back to make it appear short, but it was anything but. The gel he’d used was beginning to wear off and displayed hair that was beginning to fall into his eyes. 

You wanted to run your hands through it. To grip it as you rode his tongue. 

It felt like he must have had a sensation of what you were thinking. He ended his conversation and turned to look at you. A spark of laughter lit up the dark brown of his eyes and you swore you were swooning in your chair. 

“I see you must really like lemons.”

Your brow furrowed as you wondered what the hell he could be talking about. He must have caught on to your confusion and patted a single digit against the lemon peel still peaking like a smile between your lips. Your eyes shot wide with horror as you not too gracefully spit it out onto the napkin. 

“Oh...my...god,” you whispered at the wood of the bar. Praying that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. 

“Hi!” Your friend shot an arm over you with her hand extended for him to shake. “My name’s Vanessa. This is my lovely friend, Y/N. The lemon sucker.” 

Your head jerked in her direction and you hoped she could see how much you wish you could hit her. 

The man beside you, however, looked nothing but amused and took Vanessa’s hand. You couldn’t keep your eyes from looking at his fingers; the way it practically covered all of hers. 

“Nice to meet you both.”

He released her hand and shocked you by leaving his hand open and waiting for you to take. You glanced up at him and then back down to his hand. You took it without waiting too long, because you didn’t want him to think you were rude, or worse, weirder than he probably already did. The minute your hands folded around the other you swore it was electric. 

“My name’s Jaebum. Everyone calls me JB, for short.” 

Jaebum. JB. You would call him whatever he wanted. His voice was soft as he spoke and forced you to move closer to hear him. You wondered if that’d been his plan. It was the only thing you could think of as his thumb caressed over the knuckles of your hand before he took it away. 

You dropped your hand down to the side of your skirt and fought not to rub it against the fabric. The attraction you felt for JB was something that’d come unexpected and you found yourself inexperienced. It felt overwhelming this need to touch him. To be touched in return. To know how he sounded with your lips wrapped around his cock and those same hands on the back of your head. Bending you over and smacking your ass until it was cherry red. 

You were still staring at each other as these devilish thoughts played out in your head. His eyes roamed your face and you wondered what he saw there. If JB could see the dirty scenarios he held the starring role in. His gaze slid over you from the tips of your toes, over the exposed legs from your skirt, your chest, and back up to your face. 

There was no denying he’d thought of his own scenario with you in mind. His pupils fully blown with lust when he brought his eyes back up to you. Your pulse thudded wildly as you struggled to remember how to properly breathe. 

“Did you girls want to come back over to our table?” The question was meant for both Vanessa and you, but when he asked his gaze never left you. He only looked away to point to his indicated spot. “It’s just me and a couple of my friends. I promise, we aren’t weird or anything.”

A bright smile spread across his lips and if you weren’t swooning earlier, you were definitely doing it now. You were nodding your head yes, unsure if you could trust yourself to talk. Vanessa, unfortunately, didn’t seem to have that issue. 

“That would be amazing and so good for her. Her boyfriend just broke up with her. She’s very vulnerable.”

Oh. My. God. Was she winking like an idiot? 

You looked back at her and couldn’t keep the horror off of her face. Luckily, JB laughed it off. He reached out to grab the drinks he’d ordered and motioned with his head for you girls to follow. You waited for Vanessa to start forward before you fell into step beside her. Your arm shooting out to wrap itself around hers just so you could use it to pull her in tight. 

“What in the hell was that!?”

“I’m trying to help you here. Most men love the idea of a girl on the rebound.”

“Because they think they’re easy, Nessa.”

“Precisely.” 

She flicked her finger up like she’d just made a great discovery. The only thing she was about to discover was that you were, in fact, desperate but for a whole other reason. 

No part of you could remember your ex looking at JB. And while the idea of any sort of relationship with him, physical or otherwise, made you excited there was still that small voice in your head. The not so fun responsible part of you reminded you that you didn’t know him. He could be a weird pervert or a serial killer. Ninety-nine percent of serial killers were usually attractive. 

You let out a sigh not sure how to tell her nicely to butt out. 

“Just, help me less. Ok?”

She regarded you for a moment. Her arm peeling itself out of yours before bringing you in quickly for a one-armed hug. 

“Alright. Girl Scouts honor I won’t say anything else.”

“Thank you!”

And you meant it. Lord knew she only meant well, but in the end it came off embarrassing. Like the two of you were sixteen and in high school again. With you passing notes to all the boys you liked because you were too damn nervous to say anything to their face. You thought it was romantic. In reality, it just seemed well, kinda awkward. 

The two of you stood beside the pool table and you did your best not to fidget with your bag. The weight of six new sets of eyes made you feel like an animal in a zoo. 

“Guys, this is Vanessa and Y/N. I invited them over to hang out with us. If that’s cool.”

The friends all seemed to go from caution to excitement at seeing you in two point five seconds. All of them agreeing it was cool, and waving you all over to find a chair to sit in. 

You were following Vanessa to seats in between two  of his friends, when a soft hand on your arm stopped you. You knew without looking it was JB. Your body reacting instantly to his touch as if it’d been set on fire. 

“You can sit next to me. If you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much.”

Your voice was breathy. Like you were telling him a secret the two of you only needed to hear. The chair in question that sat beside his own, was inches from him. So close that when you sat down your knees were next one another. 

He regarded you briefly before he turned his attention back to his group. His arm snaking around your chair to rest on its back. You were aware that it was a show of dominance. Of signaling to his friends and anyone else who cared to look that you were his. The thought of it sent a thrill through your body of being claimed. Only wishing he would claim you another way too. 

JB’s group of friends were fun and easy to get a long with. One of them in particular, Hyun-Bae, was incredibly funny. He told stories that were entertaining and knew when to use his humor to make everyone laugh. It was enough to make you almost forget the man beside you. Almost. 

You weren’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between everyone talking, JB’s hand that’d rested comfortably on the back of your chair had moved. His fingers brushed along your skin from your shoulder to collarbone. Each stroke deliberate; sexual and not. Like he could read that you found it comforting but also craved his touch. 

You ached with the urge to kiss him. To taste the liquor on his tongue. All those times you turned to imagine yourself leaning in and doing just that, you’d met his gaze. The two of you shared  a look of knowing and wondered if he’d just been waiting for you to close the last inches of space between you. You were looking at each other now; eyes hungrily glancing at the others lips. 

You wanted to be brave. To just close that space and tell him just to take you home. Screw this dance of cat and mouse. You didn’t want to be chased. You wanted to be owned. 

Instead, a soft, “Excuse me,” came from you as you rose up from your chair. You couldn’t get your  feet to walk fast enough to the bathroom. You were moving so fast you practically took someone out on the way inside. Getting inside the bathroom, you quickly shut the door and turned the lock. 

You were instantly greeted by your reflection in the dirty, marker-ridden, mirror. What you could see of yourself was defeated. A huff of frustration left you as you removed your bag from your shoulder and placed it on the hook on the back of the door. Your feet scuffing the ground as you took a somber approach to the sink. 

You told Vanessa you could do this. You didn’t need help to tell a hot guy you wanted him to fuck you until your legs were far past jello and more like liquid. And every time you were given the opportunity to do something at all, you backed out. 

You rested your hands on the sink and leaned in. Examining your makeup and how very un-messy it was. 

“Note to self: just fuckin do it.”

Yup. The greatest of pep talks. 

You weren’t ready to leave the sanctity of the bathroom but a knock sounded on the door. Reminding you very quickly that there were actual people who probably needed to use it. You moved to pick up your bag when another knock came. 

“Yea, yea I’m coming. Chill.”

When you opened the door, however, JB was just there. His body pushing into the bathroom causing you to step back to give him room. He closed the door without looking back. His body fully facing you as the door clicked closed behind him. 

“JB? Sorry I was just using the restroom-”

“Is that what that was? I mostly heard talking; no flushing.”

His lips spread in an amused smile no doubt at your expense. Your eyes were probably as white as the moon. How long had he been waiting out here?

“Sorry. I just got a little impatient waiting for you.”

In one fluid motion, his arm snaked around your back, and brought you to his chest. JB was prepared for you and his other hand was already holding your face giving him the perfect leverage to crash his mouth down on yours. The moment your lips met that electricity you’d felt earlier flared back to life. This time, it flared across your skin and sparked in every spot he touched. 

The kiss started out a brush of lips and soon became more. His tongue danced at the edge of your bottom lip and you gladly opened up to him. Your hands plunging to make a mess of his perfectly gelled hair at the same time his tongue slipped inside your mouth. 

You were eager to respond. Eager to caress his tongue with yours. His mouth tasted of the bittersweet liquor he’d sipped on for the last hour. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to taste yourself on his lips made your body ache to be touched in other places. For your fantasies of his mouth on you to begin here. You didn’t care where. 

JB seemed to understand what you needed. He broke from the kiss fast and turned you around. His body pressed against your back and his hands at the edge of your skirt. You watched in the mirror as he moved your skirt up to your hips exposing your thong to the room. 

He watched you, his lips hovering over your ear before giving it a playful nip, and those same hands were now laced in the strings. JB moved back just enough to squat down so his hands could move them down your legs until he reached your ankles. 

“Step out.”

You followed his command without question. Your head tilting back to watch the little bit of cloth he held in his hand get scrunched up even smaller and placed inside the front pocket of his jeans. His eyes looked up to meet yours, and your body froze with anticipation. Whatever he would ask you to do, you knew you would comply. 

“Spread your legs.”

The demand in his voice was feverish. His own need on display as his hand caressed up your calf until it was between your thighs. A finger teasingly moved across your opening, causing a soft gasp to exit from your lips. You did as you were instructed and waited until you heard an approving, “Hm,” from his lips. 

The room swelled as the anticipation grew. The reflection you’d seen moments ago was washed away and the woman who’d taken her place was eager and ready to offer up her own demands. 

JB moved to stand on his feet with his hands traveling along the curve of your legs and up onto your hips. There his fingers dug into the soft flesh as he leaned into your back, his eyes on yours in the mirror, as he spoke into your ear, “Place your hands on the sink.”

“Spank me first.”

A shiver of shock ran through you. You couldn’t believe you’d said it, but after your request had left you, you’d refused to take it back. Your body craved to be reprimanded by his hands and the smirk on his lips told you plainly he was more than happy to oblige. 

“Beg for it.”

“Please spank me. Please, JB.”

His hand curled up to wrap around your throat as his index finger danced at the edge of your lips. 

“How bad do you want it?”

“I want I-“

The smack reverberated like thunder in the small room. The sting was instant and beautiful. The heat between your legs was aching and your ass jetted against his jeans for any kind of friction. JB stepped back, denying you any form of relief, and landed another smack on your exposed cheek. 

This one made your knees wobble as the pleasure rolled through you. Your hands on the sink was the only thing that saved you from showing him what he’d done. 

“You love that don’t you?”

JB already knew you did, but he wanted to hear you. He needed to hear you say how much you loved feeling his hand leaving its mark, red and angry, on your skin. 

“Yes,” you gasped. “It feels so good.” 

He landed another smack and you couldn’t keep yourself quiet anymore. Your moan loud and aching like your pussy. Luckily, his hand was still on your throat and silenced you by placing his fingers in your mouth. You sucked on them immediately and this time you could feel JB rut against your ass. The hardness of his cock pressed against the fabric of his jeans gave away just how turned on he was at your bathroom escapades. 

He pulled his fingers free from your mouth and, with the same fingers, slick and wet, placed it between your legs. The two digits moving to slide between your folds. First, scissoring around your clit; caressing the delicate bud until you gave him the moan he worked for. 

When the soft sound left you JB slid them deep inside you causing the noise to become louder. A shudder ran through your body as you backed up into him. 

His fingers removed themselves suddenly, and you couldn’t keep the disappointment from escaping you. A whine you were sure sounded like you were close to tears. JB gave your ass another smack and all it did was drive the need inside you closer to madness. 

His hands planted themselves onto your ass and you felt him kneel down. Those two strategically placed hands lifting up the flesh there leaving your pussy exposed and aching in his view. Your hands were gripping the porcelain of the sink so tight you’d thought it’d crack. Your body trembling in anticipation of what he might do and the need to cover yourself up playing tug-of-war in your head. 

The idea of any sort of hiding vanished when his mouth planted itself between your legs. His tongue snaking out to flick across your clit made you back up to greet his mouth. JB quickly took that moment to slide his tongue from clit to ass. The sensation was so foreign and new to you, you weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed, but the pleasure you got quickly washed the thought away. 

JB gave you no time to pull yourself together. His face was back between your legs with an eager tongue to lick up every last drop. His tongue swirled around your clit and sent light flicks when you were least expecting it. Each time your legs threatened to crumble, but JB held you there with steady hands.

His tongue explored you thoroughly and put to his memory what made your knees weak. What caused a soft mulling sound of need to claw up from your throat. And what caused your grip on the sink to become almost violent. 

Between each languid lick his tongue would find itself taking long strides all the way up and back down to your peak. Your body had now grown accustomed to the new sensation, and you welcomed it greedily as you pushed back against his face. 

When JB knew you were so close to your sweet release he focused his tongue more on your swollen bud. Each new caress of his tongue gradually made it harder for your arms to hold you up. For your legs to keep from shaking uncontrollably. 

Your orgasm continued to grow; blossoming between your folds with an ache that your body felt. You were so, so close and with a final thrust of his tongue you felt your world spin and that sweet heat between your legs finally sent shockwaves all over your body. 

You came moaning so loud anyone else would’ve thought you were screaming. Your head thrown back and riding the sensation of his greedy mouth taking everything you had to offer. 

When his lips finally released from you, your body was still coming down from your orgasm. The loud panting that came from you as you leaned against the sink completely spent. You watched in the mirror as he pulled a golden foil packet from his pocket. His eyes sinfully watching you as he ripped it carefully with his teeth. JB’s finger moved quickly to take out the slick rubber from the packet and begin to work it down his shaft. 

You’d been so consumed with recovering from his tongue that you hadn’t realized when he’d taken his cock out of his jeans that were now shameless at his ankles. He put a few fingers inside your wetness that caused you to gasp. Your body was still recovering from what had just taken place. 

He used your cum to lubricate himself and placed himself at your entrance. Already the tip of him stretching you out with the delicious sting that told you he was thick. You couldn’t wait. 

You moved to push back into him to help him inside and he pulled away. His hand smacking down on your ass making you even more eager. 

“Patience is a virtue.”

He tried to be funny, but his voice was deep and throaty with his own lust. You were close to pleading with him again like before, but he let it be known quickly he had no intentions to wait. 

JB slid inside you and you felt your pussy stretch to accommodate him. The feel of him making your breath catch. His girth much thicker than you’d imagined, and your body shook from the pleasure of feeling yourself stretch around him. 

His thrusts started off slow until he knew you’d had enough time. His hands found an anchor on your hips and used them to pull you in to meet his hips. A string of curse words fell from your mouth as your hips rocked back into him. 

Each movement felt like he was going deeper. JB’s hands on the cheeks of your ass kept you spread open to him and left no friction to catch his thrusts. Every single one was felt as he buried himself inside you in a rhythmic timing that left you moaning. 

You caught your reflection in the mirror, and glanced over to watch him as he worked. The way his hips bucked up only to be brought down. His hands stationed on your hips and bruising the flesh there as his grip got tighter. JB looked up and caught a glimpse of you in the mirror. His eyes locked with yours as he continued that unrelenting pace. 

He removed a hand from your ass and used it to wrap back around your neck. When he knew he had a good grip, he used it to pull you close to his chest. The angle of him in this new position somehow made him feel like he was pushing into your gut. 

Your mouth opened to make another sound, a moan or a scream you weren’t sure which, when that hand in your throat tilted your mouth towards him. His own came crashing down on your lips with his tongue that tasted of you slipping inside. You eagerly opened your mouth to him, and your tongue quickly moved to get a taste. 

JB deepened the kiss as his hips began to thrust harder into you. The movement building up your orgasm with each brutal movement until it threatened to spill over. 

“You taste so good with me on your lips.”

Your words fell earnest from your lips. You meant every one of them. You’d never tasted yourself so pretty on anyone else’s lips. JB obliged as he took your lips back. His mouth silenced another moan as his last free hand found its way back to your clit. Your body jumped at the added sensation. Your mouth tore away from his as another moan dripped from your lips. 

You were so close. You could fill yourself ready to cum if only he would let you. JB must have been close too, because his thrusts started becoming more violent and sporadic. Hitting in all the right places.

 At the same time as his fingers made small circles around your clit, a singular hard thrust of his hips sent his cock deep inside you. Your vision erupted in a sea of white. Your orgasm sent your body rutting back against him. 

He rode your orgasm and somehow made it grow in intensity as he continued to move his hips. His own breathing going ragged as you felt him finally release into you. 

When you both were able to breathe again, you’d realized you were laying over the sink. JB’s forehead resting on your back as you both struggled to regain your composure. 

JB was the first to move. The first to begin the arduous process of cleaning up. Like a voyeur, you watched him as he threw away the spent rubber and tuck himself back inside his jeans. A smirk creased your lips when you noticed he now had noticeable wet spots on his tee shirt. 

“You know, I don’t even know anything about you.”

You weren’t sure why you made the comment or why it mattered. You’d just had sex with the man in a damn bar bathroom. But JB didn’t seem to mind. His own smile curling his lips as he salvaged what he could of his hair. 

“What would you like to know?”

“Well,” you began as you started to situate your skirt. “What’s your favorite color?”

It was a silly question. By the look on JB’s face, he knew it was, but he humored you anyways. 

“It used to be blue, but I think red might be a new favorite.” 

“Why is that?”

You were wondering where your panties had gone until you spied a bit of the black cloth hanging from his pocket. JB walked over to you in a few steps and planted a soft kiss down on your lips. One that spoke plainly, this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see each other. 

“Because it currently matches the color of your ass.”

JB was out the door and in the bar’s hallway before you’d even got a chance to respond. 

[jadelynlace]

ink drinker / Modern Vikings AU, Ivar x F!Reader, Chapter 3

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

author’s note & content warning: mentions of depression, self harm and suicidal thoughts; all pertaining to Ivar, not reader. mentions of therapy, medication and past history of self inflicted & blooming trauma. please read at your own risk. my messages are always, always open for anyone who may ever need a listener. anything in italics indicates a flash back. there are so many fucking feelings in this chapter that I just, am apologizing now. but there’s smut!

✎

It was gloomy the morning you remembered finally catching a glimpse of Ivar’s scars. Adorned and nearly smothered by him in his bed, the small snores from him somewhere draped across your skin, traveling over the plains in warm boulders. You were always drawn to the artwork on his limbs, there was always a smaller detail you missed and found within your next search but through the endless gazes you finally caught sight of the jagged white flesh. The since healed lacerations and your medical knowledge took full force of your mind. They were scars, they were healed scars, but they were scars from the straight edge of a razor blade. With such precision and such aftermath you knew they were the scars with one intent within their making. And they were there to tell you the secret horrors Ivar had not yet spoken—that there was a point where he felt his heart should no longer beat, and his lungs should no longer fill and that his life was meaningless. And that he should end it.

*

“Can I ask you something?” You finally find yourself mumbling; words floating through the cabin of the parked ambulance on stand by. Hvitserk’s coffee halfway through to his stomach when you peep in such a meek voice he almost coughs the molten liquid back out.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N,”

“How bad is Ivar’s depression?” And you simply ask. No foreword to the speech, no coating of sugar or dusting of fake joy. As blunt as you had been trained to voice the death of a loved one to their family. “I saw the medication in his cabinet, and I saw the scars on his wrists. I know it’s none of my business because he’s your brother, but…” and you can’t find a lie to justify it. Not ready to spill to your partner about the times Ivar had spilled into the condoms with you.

“Bad,” Hvitserk says, and just as bluntly. “He…he tried to kill himself in college. I don’t know if you’ve noticed how he’s never available Saturdays from eleven to noon, but that’s when he has therapy. I had been trying to convince him since high school to see someone, and Floki finally got through to him not too long ago,” He adds. “When I got that phone call from mom that he was in the hospital—I felt like such a failure, Y/N, because I knew it was coming and I did nothing to stop it,” Your hand goes to his wrist for a second, a quick squeeze of added support as you listen.

“Sometimes people refuse what’s good for them, Hvitty,” You start. “You should know that—how many times have we explained to someone why they should go to the hospital with us, but they still refuse?” He finally cracks a smile at that. “Do you think he’s in a better place now, mentally?”

“Either that, or he’s just stable. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Ivar doesn’t like to talk about his feelings…”

“Wow Hvitserk, I had no idea,” You tease, nudging him with both your elbow and sarcastic tone as the voice on the radio fills into the cabin. Your stand by is over and the conversation is dropped as you leave the scene.

*

There had been instances where you think he might be ready; he might understand that the new gifting of your relationship status might help him to realize you aren’t joking when you offer to listen. You’d listen to Ivar talk until he ran out of things to say if it came to that. More times now the words perched themselves on his lips, ready to spring forwards but he keeps pulling them back. He keeps swallowing them because they’re mixed like bile and stew and far too gross, far too un-human for him to even want to try to speak them to you. And then Ivar kicks himself for drowning these demons who have started to learn to swim and he sees you in your uniform and remembers that nothing phases you. You watch open heart surgery on the television while you eat his mother’s lasagna without a care in the world or a realization that what you were doing is unusual. 

“Can I talk to you?” Ivar says bluntly, sitting like a cowered dog in the living room and you’re hardly through his front door when he asks. You can feel how your head rises slowly, a quick snarky word to come back but you bite down on your tongue so roughly you can taste blood as you just look at him. You have never seen a man of his stature try to look so small, try to be so invisible. Worry comes to your face just as quickly as the next breath passes through your diaphragm and you’re on the couch before you even take your shoes off. “It’s messy,” He finally admits. Shallow and dead and you can see the broken boy that has tried to hide himself through the bulked muscles and the tattoos; the glare through his blue eyes and the curved lip.

“Most of what involves the human body is messy, Ivar,” You find yourself saying back, and it sounds pathetic to your ears. It sounds like you’re trying to tell the parent of a dead child that you know how they feel but you don’t. And you never will. But Ivar shedding this skin for you feels like you’re walking through the motions on a call, eyes from crowds of people crawling over and stuck on your every move. And every move that comes next like they’re watching a soap opera with their dinner and they’ve disconnect that what is happening is real, it’s someones life. Just like how you have to disconnect. But in this moment it’s Ivar, and you’re present. 

“Like paint,” Ivar mumbles next. 

“Yeah, like paint,” You repeat and there’s a smile on your lips for a second. “Ivar? You don’t do that anymore, do you?” You finally find the courage to ask.

“No,” Ivar says as he glances down at his right hand’s wrist, shoving the skin next to the sweatshirt he’s wearing as if rubbing it on the gray cotton will make those scars dissipate. “I get tattoos instead,” That causes a sick button to click in your consciousness as to why Ivar is so heavily covered from his shoulders to his ankles in artwork. How the sting of the needle dawning the creations reminded him of the blade he tried to use to make the mess of thoughts fly away. To make the demons come free through his skin and leave him with peace, if only a moment. 

“What helps? What helps you stay present?” You ask. Ivar blinks far too many times, sorting through his brain for the answers as if it’s a container of memorabilia that’s so unorganized even his mother can’t stand the sight of it.

“My brothers help, sometimes,” He says. “I think about how devastated my mom would be. I think about Floki. I think about all of the people in my life who say they want me here even when my mind is trying to tell me I don’t deserve to be.”

“I want you here, Ivar.” You say back and catch how he looks at you when you admit such.

“Why? Have you seen yourself, Y/N? You could have anyone you want and you choose me…” The sentence breaks your heart but you now know the darkness the climbs between his ears. The seed planted so long ago in the depths of brown ground somewhere and you want to pull it from the mental garden. You want to rip the roots right from the soil and burn them so they never have a chance to infest any farther.

“No one makes me feel the way you do, Ivar,” Are the first words from your mouth. “You make me smile, you make me feel important—you remind me how to escape. Even on the worst possible days I can have, you bring me back to reality.” You want to tell him how he’s addicting, how there’s a quality to him you can’t articulate but always keeps you coming back. How you want to keep coming back because both your mind, and your body know it’s safe. How he was someone so mysterious from the outside but past every highly built wall is a man who is just so simply himself. “Because you’re you, Ivar. With the bachelor’s degree in calculus, and the copious amounts of tattoos, and a heart of gold that…you forget that you have,” You finally add. “You’re someone different to the rest of the world, but you’re the real Ivar around me,” You worry that the silence that over takes him is a sign of something else. A sign that you spoke too much, again, and scarred him for more than he could withstand. And then he smiles. 

But you can’t understand why—why he smiles for someone like you. The one who let him design your first ever tattoo to his heart’s content. The one who has the same twisted sense of humor. The one who will bicker back and challenge him. The one who gets to see him fall apart between your legs. The one who makes him hard, and has him make those noises. The moans, the heavy panting and rasped groans as he bottoms out and moves through you. The one who gets to watch how his eyes snap shut, and his mouth drops open when you clench around him; how his entire back tenses when he’s close. How he holds you as he fills the rubber with everything he has. The man who loves your nails trailing on his skin. The man who smothers you every night that he spends with you, and every morning when you wake and he’s still there. Making you coffee and cooking you breakfast. How he knows your takeout order from your favorite places, and your work schedule. What food to have at his own apartment, and what movies he should have on demand. The spare clothes he keeps there for when you come over after work, ready to take the ambulance grime from your skin. The pads that are in his bathroom closet, the painkillers. The bottle of “girly white wine” that he won’t admit to drinking too, because it is damn good wine. The man who knows to check in with you during the day, and again to make sure you really are alright. The same man who knows if you don’t text him back, you and Hvitserk have gone knee deep into either a bullshit call, or a tragic one. As shocked as you were that he was listening to what you were saying—and taking it to heart—you were stunned that you hadn’t caught on to how obvious it was that Ivar was in love with you. Even with all of the time you spend crammed between your own thoughts.

“There’s a lot to sort through,” Ivar says again.

“That’s okay, Ivar,” You remind him, your head resting on his shoulder and you feel him shift, move his arm to encompass you as you curl against his side.

“You smell like bleach,” He softly laughs, his nose deep against your hair and you snort, reminded of the decontamination duties you were gifted from the calls today.

“Better than Hvitserk, who got puked on,” You reply. “Shower?” And you can feel Ivar nod against you. 

His hands don’t move rapidly to shed your clothing, or to shed his own. There’s a certain calmness through his motions as he waits for the water to warm, slipping your polo from your shoulders, and planting his lips in its wake. Against the base of your neck, your spine, hugging your body flush against his in front of the mirror. Your eyes catch sight of his hands coming back around you, squeezing your breasts and you can’t stop the moan that crawls from your mouth. The traces of artwork on his fingers as his lips move from your neck, to the shell of your ear and graze your pulse point. There’s a push from your backside against his groin, and Ivar growls in response, humming not far after as you feel how his cock hardens the farther his hands roam.   

Down your sides, your abdomen, swirling through your folds and dipping between them to catch your juices. Circling against the bundle of nerves he knows so precisely and you moan twice as loudly, and he does too as you moisten to his fingers. Your hands move to grab at him, anywhere they can and you find one hand holding his neck and the other wrapping around his length. Your nails crawl to his hair, pulling the locks down as his fingers take to moving quickly, spreading your womanhood and arousal and you suddenly can’t wait much longer to have him. And he can tell by how you whimper, whisper to him about how you want to feel him inside of you and there’s no fight anywhere on his body to try to deny the tone of your begging. Ivar’s eyes catch yours in the mirror as he finally pushes into you, the cold porcelain sink calming the heat of your skin as he bottoms out and rests his body against yours. There’s a sinful moan that comes through his lips as his eyes bore into yours, with the squeeze from your walls and warmth you spread through him and at first he can’t move, he only wants to savor it. His eyes finally close as he slips away from you, pushing in once more as your body rocks to the sink, singing back to him as the steam from the forgotten shower starts to fog against the mirror. Your name is through his lips as he moves, tattooed hands coming to find yours as he moves your body with each thrust, each timed sensation and you feel your own orgasm approaching. His mouth open on your ear, eyes screwed shut between love and ecstasy as his breath tickles down your face and you’re close now, far closer and far faster than you’ve ever been

“Ivar—” comes your voice and there’s only a hum in response, wordlessly pleading for you to let go because he’s got you, and you know that. Your knuckles white washed against his as you finish, shaking against the sink and you miss how Ivar’s eyes watch you unfold. Studying the pleasure laced in your features. 

“Where, baby?” He says quickly, and you shudder as you remember he’s bare now, condom long since forgotten but there are still the small pills you swallow. Still working somewhere you know of, but the accuracy decreases when you take them irregularly—and there’s a big part of your life that calls for that to happen. The alarming lights and loud tones. But you know that you’re safe. With Ivar you’re always safe.

“Inside,” You finally say, his hips stopping to starve off the inevitable as he waits for you to be sure, as he waits to see the seriousness on your face so he knows you aren’t lying in the heat of the moment. And you have to say it again for him to start up again, remind him that you have a safety net. The sensitivity in your cunt melts as he keeps moving and you can tell another orgasm is starting to build. Ivar reaches from your hand quickly and starts his fingers against your clit, quick circles as you hear him get louder, feel his other arm move to crush you and you catch his face as he finishes. The sight searing in your vision and colliding with how he moves with you and your second release rolls through you. His seed spilling and you both moan, his lips still plastered against your ear and you can feel the shake through his whole body as he floats back down. The tense in his thighs pushing you against the counter. There’s a whimper next from him, as he stills, wrapping tightly to hold you there, like it was all a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. 

“I love you,” You hear him say against your skin and you’re right there to repeat it back to him. “You don’t have to mean it,” He then tries and you already know what he’s doing.

“I do, Ivar,” You say back, trying to make him look at you through the mirror but his eyes are still closed. He slowly slips from you, his release sticking between your thighs as he slides away and you’re only then able to turn in his arms. Reaching forwards to pull his mouth against his. “I love you. You and me Ivar, against the world,” You say and he hums at that, a small snicker not far after. 

“I like how that sounds, baby,” His smile comes next, dopey and boyish as he finally looks into your eyes and understands that you don’t doubt any part of him. You love it all—the good and the bad and the evil things he may think about himself. You love them all because you know he feels the same way when it comes to you. “The hot water’s going to run out soon,” He mumbles as he holds you. And standing in the shower is not much more different, still wrapped up safely in his arms as you both feel the troubles melt down the drain.

Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @victoria-styles @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @youbloodymadgenius @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @walkxthexmoon  @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @love-all-things-writing @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @quantumlocked310

*please message me to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series are welcomed, as well as feedback!*

full masterlist can be found here.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Heartbreak | awesamdude

Requested? Nope this just helped me with my writer's block

Warnings? None?

Summary: Sam helps you through a heartbreak

Word Count: 1,816

You were certain you were going to be sad forever.

Dramatic yes, but you always had a flair for grabbing attention whenever you could. As much as you didn’t want to admit it though, you were genuinely crushed though by your break up.

You and your now ex-boyfriend Austin had spent six months together, in what you would call a whirlwind romance. He had stolen your heart pretty quickly, the two of you spending what felt like every second for the past half-year together.

Dinners, studying together, errands, dates, weekends, everything was spent together. You couldn’t believe how fast it had happened and then how fast it had ended. You were still reeling a solid week later after being ghosted for a solid two weeks and then having the relationship end with a text that said he couldn’t do this anymore.

You had taken the break up as well as anyone or any of your friends knew. You had cried and cried and cried the first few days, watching sad movies or romance movies over and over until you cursed every man to the ends of the earth for simply existing. You then ate a copious amount of your favorite comfort food accompanied by many sympathetic hugs from your mom.

By the end of the first week, you knew you had to keep going in life, but didn’t know how to cope with the breakup. So, your next resort was sad music. You were pretty certain anyone looking at your Spotify playlists was probably concerned at the number of sad songs playing on a loop but it helped to know someone else understood the pain you were going through.

“Please tell me you at least left your house today?” Sam, your best friend questions.

Sam had been your rock through this entire thing. While he hadn’t come over (at your request since you looked horrific) he still tried and coached and helped as much as possible. He texted you throughout the day, calling you at night to check up on how you felt and what you did during the day. You were definite this boy was the only good one left.

“Uhhh,” you drag out at his question looking around your trashed room and see that you probably couldn’t even make a path to your door if you wanted to through the number of clothes on the floor.

“That’s okay. There’s always tomorrow,” he reassures and you smile lightly at his positive tone.

The next day, you woke up a familiar pang hitting your chest and memories flooding you. Today was probably not going to be a good day in the break-up department. You tried though, for the sake of your best friend, and got as far as showering and eating something.

After lunch you ended up back in bed, sad Taylor Swift music on a loop and your covers pulled up to your chin. Sure, you made progress today and you could carry that momentum into tomorrow but you were pretty certain this was as far as you were getting.

Just as you snuggle into the covers, your phone dings with Sam’s special text tone and you pick it up. Your eyes scan the text and a smile creeps along your lips again.

“You can do this!! What did you eat this morning?”

You text him back, telling him about how your day is going so far and what you’ve eaten, and ask the older boy what his plans are for the day. He’s quick to text back and tells you not much is up and you leave it at that and go back to your playlist and sulking.

Sam couldn’t help but worry about his best friend and the girl he had been secretly crushing on since day one. He hated knowing you were sad and couldn’t do much more than offer words of encouragement and support. As he paces his apartment ideas wracking his brain one hits him like a freight train.

He grabs his keys and wallet, heading out the door to your house. Once there, he knocks on the door, waiting patiently for one of your family members to answer.

“Sam!” your father greets and the brunette smiles.

“Hi, Mr. (y/l/n). Is (y/n) around?”

“Upstairs in her room,” your dad says and Sam nods and thanks him before scaling his way up the stairs and towards your room.

Just before he knocks on the door, he stops upon hearing music playing inside. All Too Well by Taylor Swift blasts in your room and Sam pouts at the idea of you alone and sad in your room. He knocks on the door, waiting for your voice and when he hears you call to him he lets himself in.

When you see Sam enter your room, you sit up in bed clear confusion present in your features. Sam makes his way to you, sitting down in front of you on your bed and you pause your music.

“Hi honey,” he greets and you smile sadly.

“Hi,” you respond weakly.

Sam doesn’t say another word, just opens his arms to you in which you dive straight into. He holds you tight rubbing light circles on your back as tears flow slowly down your cheeks. He pulls back after a moment, lifting your face into his hands and wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“You’re too pretty to cry over an idiot like him,” he tells you and your sad smile shoots straight to his heart.

“I think I loved him Sam.”

“I know baby,” he says, still focusing on your tears and not meeting your eyes. “But he’s still a jerk who hurt you and doesn’t deserve you. Don’t waste tears on that. Your tears and emotions are precious.”

You nod, sitting up and pulling yourself over to sit next to Sam. You lay your head on his shoulder and he rests a hand on your leg rubbing comfortable shapes on your thigh.

“You ready to face the world?” he whispers and you take a deep breath.

“With you? Yeah.”

Sam stands, a wide smile on his face before holding his hands out to you. He pulls you up with him before whipping out his phone and blasting music. However this time it’s the good kind of Taylor Swift that makes you feel like a bad bitch and you can dance around your room too.

Sam takes your hands in his and spins you around the room, the two of you screaming the lyrics together and the louder you are the better you feel. Sam’s hands in yours, the music blasting, and the therapeutic action of yelling Taylor Swift’s music ebbing the pain away slowly.

By the time a few songs have gone by and you and Sam are exhausted from dancing he pauses the music. He holds up a hand, heading to your closet and picking out an outfit before throwing it towards you.

“Let’s go get some dinner huh baby?” he asks and you nod not even realizing the wide smile set on your lips looking at your best friend.

He lets himself out of your room and as you get changed you can’t help the little giggle that escapes your lips thinking about Sam. Before Austin, you had the biggest crush on your best friend. It had never gone away, granted you were pretty sure it was still there the way he had your heart racing just by being in the same room as you.

He made you feel like a queen on your worst days, and like the only woman to ever walk the earth on your best days. You wish you knew if he felt the same or not knowing that if he did you’d give that man the whole world and more.

You finish getting changed, swinging your door open and Sam looks up, an awestruck smile hitting his lips. He holds out his hand and you take it letting him pull you away from the room that held utter sadness for a week now and into your utter happiness.

When you get to Sam’s car, you’re back to blasting music and singing, the two of you trading laughs, jokes, and stories like any other day and Austin has been pushed so far back in your mind you barely remember what he did in the healing presence of Sam.

“The usual?” Sam asks, pulling into both of your favorite restaurant.

You nod and the two of you get out together and head inside the crowded restaurant. You’re seated to the side of the room in a big booth that hides the two of you away from the rest of the world. As you flip through the menu uselessly, already knowing what you want, you realize Sam’s eyes are on you.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing. You’re smiling again,” he says and you don’t even realize the grin that had set permanently on your lips since he had walked into your room.

“I’m glad to see it,” he says and you both smile, a blush covering your suddenly nervous selves before looking away.

Dinner goes by quickly, and you wonder why you didn’t call Sam earlier. The thought crosses your mind but is quickly washed away by the thump of your heart when he sends a smile your way and your feelings reverberate throughout your entire body.

You head out of the restaurant and decide to head home for the night. The ride home is easy, music flowing, conversation traded back and forth, probably the best you felt in a long time.

When you get out of the car, Sam meets you on your side and you lean against the passenger door. You stare up at him as he leans next to you, body half-turned to face you and your heart speeds up a little.

“So,” he sighs out.

“So,” you echo.

His hand comes up to push a piece of hair back, before trailing slowly down your jawline and eventually cupping your cheek. He hesitates for a moment as he turns to face you completely, his body slotting in between yours perfectly.

“Can I?” he asks quietly, his head dipping down mere inches from yours.

You nod, heart slamming in your chest and his lips finally grace yours. You come alive under his touch, one arm wrapping around his shoulder while the other grips the fabric of his shirt pulling him as close as possible. Your lips sync with ease, his body pressed against yours as you sink into his touch.

When you’re out of breath you pull away but stay close to Sam as possible. His forehead lands on yours and he pecks your lips again before pulling back just slightly to look at you.

“So,” he repeats and a smile widens on your lips a giggle escaping shortly after.

“So, wanna come inside?”

[simplyotometrash]

Cuddling with the Demon Brothers

Brought to you by your local thirsty otome lover~

Under the cut as always, darlings!

Lucifer:

“Let me finish this real quick, MC.”

He’s a workaholic, what do you expect.

But he does keep to his word. Lucifer isn’t one to break that. Especially where you’re concerned.

You’re his soft spot after all!

Once work is finished, he does get into more comfortable clothing and settles in bed with you. 

He’s very much a big spoon if you’re spooning. 

Though sometimes he does like to let his guard down and let you hold him instead. It’s the only time he feels he can be vulnerable. 

Never cuddles on the couch because this is not an affair his brothers need to see. Your relationship is Not for them to gawk at.

Unless you ask him to cuddle on movie nights. He can’t turn you down no matter how much his pride is telling him to. 

The thought of you against his side while you watch a movie is too nice to turn down.

Honestly any excuse to hold you is one he will take when given the chance. 

Mammon:

“Of course ya wanna cuddle with THE Mammon!”

Baby boy is trying to hide behind that bravdo like always. It’s how he hides the fact his brothers’ words get to him.

But he won’t turn down his human. He craves your touch. 

After a while he stops the act and just launches into bed with or on top of you to cuddle before you can ever even ask.

Mammon is definitely touch starved. 

He needs positive touch in his life. He’s always getting beat up on by Lucifer or someone else because he does something stupid.

The Koala Cuddler

AKA

You’re not getting out of his arms because he’s now clinging to you like his life depends on it. 

He’s a little spoon. Lives for the little spoon when you two are spooning. And you are always spooning face to face. 

He feels so loved and it’s nice to feel guarded from everything beyond the door. He can breathe and be himself.

Pet! His! Hair!!!

This demon lives for head rubs! He nuzzles in closer to you and you see a gentle, genuine Mammon smile on his face. A smile only for your eyes to see.

Can and will cuddle with you anywhere in the house.

Leviathan:

“Not now, M- wHAT!? W-why would you wanna cuddle with an icky otaku like me!?”

Shut the fuck up and let me love you, Levi.

He needs a lot of time.

Levi can be pretty touch averse depending on his mood. So he isn’t always up for cuddles.

Ya gotta respect his space.

But if he says he’s down for cuddles, no matter how much he’s blushing or stuttering through his reply, he would die to cuddle with you. 

There are a few different cuddles with Levi and none of them involve being where his brothers can see.

He doesn’t want them to see you guys cuddling because he doesn’t want to be made fun of. He’s shy.

First way to cuddle your Levi: sitting in his lap while gaming. This can be both of you gaming or just him. 

If it’s both of you, sit between his legs and lean your back into his chest. He loves it.

If he’s the only one gaming then sit with your legs around his waist and your face in his neck. Guaranteed to make him blush but he really enjoys it. 

Sometimes he just enjoys they subtle one arm around each other, heads resting together kind of cuddling. Especially when watching anime or a movie.

Finally he loves cuddling in his tub. It’s so close and your limbs are either tangled together or you’re laying on him. He enjoys both.

Satan:

“Okay. Come over here.”

Usually he’s reading when you want to cuddle. So he either has you pressed into his side with an arm around you or you’re in his lap.

Bonus points because he will begin reading to you if you ask ^-^

Cuddles are a peaceful time when Satan is involved. 

He could hold you against him for hours if you wanted him to.

You help him feel calm and not feel so angry all the time. You’re like a buffer to all the things that piss him off.

I headcanon that Satan is the type to sleep slightly propped up on pillows, as he often falls asleep reading.

So he likes it when you two cuddle with you on your stomach and laying your head on his chest. 

Holding you to his chest is a favorite of his.

He can feel you breathing and feel your heart. Your warmth reminds him of fragility and beauty.

Probably could recite poems to you verbatim without needing a book out if you wanted to hear something.

He’s also a very private cuddler. 

Not because he’s embarrassed by it or doesn’t want to make it explicitly clear that you are his love.

No, he just wants to keep the peaceful time you two share for just the two of you. 

Plus out in the rest of the house he is liable to get pissed off by Lucifer’s very existence or Mammon doing something to get on his nerves. He hates for you to see him when he loses his temper.

He does not want to frighten you.

Asmodeus:

Finally time for my baby

Asmo is the Avatar of Lust. Yes. But it bears repeating that lust isn’t an inherently sexual thing. 

And this boy lusts for your very touch. 

Cuddles are one of his favorite things with you. He gets to touch you and hold you close and be engulfed in the scent of his favorite human.

Another versatile snuggle buddy. Who would he be if he wasn’t?

Sometimes he loves to just be the one holding you. Feeling like your guardian and protector. When he big spoons he will wrap a leg around yours as if shielding your body with his. 

He also likes to be the little spoon. 

Asmodeus is actually more insecure than anyone but you realizes and sometimes he just needs a chance to take a break. He needs to be reminded that he is also protected.

So when you hold him close and it feels like you are protecting him,he can let his hair down. He doesn’t have anything to hide. 

All spooning is face to face because he reuses to spoon if he can’t see your stunning face. He wants it to be the last thing he sees before his eyes fall shut. 

Also a big fan of being between your legs and resting against your chest and vice versa where you’re in the same position. 

But he especially likes being the one with his head on your chest.

Hearing your heartbeat is so nice. 

If you don’t run your fingers through his hair then you are cuddling with him all wrong.

He is soft baby and finds it soothing. 

He will cuddle with you everywhere that he can possibly hold you. Movies are fun because you have to conserve space for the others. Oh, how he loves movie nights.

Especially horror movie nights~

Beelzebub

Big boy will only cuddle with you one way in bed. No other ways.

You are laying on his chest. 

That is the only way he feels safe cuddling with you.

Sweet bean is just scare he could crush you in his sleep :(((

But honestly he loves you laying on his chest. He’s a big guy and you have so much room anyway.

You have your own living, breathing teddy bear.

And who needs a blanket when you have a Beel?

He also feels he can just protect you so easily in that position because his arms just engulf you with room to spare.

Now, I said that was the only way he’ll cuddle in bed.

On the couch or a chair?

You bet he’s got you in his lap!!! 

His arms are already around you and you’re either between his legs or just on his lap against his chest. 

No space is spared.

He likes to be able to put his chin on top of your head, too.

And this way you definitely don’t need a blanket. Beel has you covered with his copious amount of body heat.

Movie nights are nice. You have a seat and there’s plenty of space for everyone else. 

He does also like it when you’re in his lap facing him. He’s soft and likes to see your face.

Give him lots of kisses.

You falling asleep like that? Beel will guard you with his life while you nap. Also if he gets hungry he can pick you up so much easier like this. Your legs are already around his waist and he just needs one arm to keep you hoisted up. The other hand can grab snacks!

Belphegor:

The King of Cuddling.

As if there were any doubt.

You don’t even have to ask him for cuddles.

You will make it to the side of his bed, poised and ready to ask and suddenly a hand grabs your arm from his fortress of pillows and blankets and you’re being sucked in.

Don’t expect to move. 

Once Belphie is asleep, waking him is risky business. He won’t hurt you, god he would never, but he will be Very cranky.

you will be used as a body pillow. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

There’s no escaping his grasp either. You won’t be going anywhere until he wakes up.

Need to pee? You’re shit out of luck, bud. You’ll have to hold it.

But he’s the best at cuddling. He’s a full body cuddler and you’ll get the full experience.

Sometimes he may just roll over on top of you but only when you’re on your back. Somehow he just knows even in his sleep. He’ll never crush you.

He’s an expert at sleeping, he won’t hurt you while napping.

He does love it when you let him lay his head in your lap. And you run your fingers through his hair. It is so soothing.

But he especially wants to be held. He wants to be able to hear your heart beating in your chest.

It reminds him that this is the good timeline. You’re alive. 

And he’s going to keep it that way

Your heart beat is better than any lullaby.

Consider supporting me on Ko-Fi!

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ prompt: "don’t leave me. don’t you dare leave me.���

♡ pairing: jason todd (redhood) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: "everybody loves somebody sometime. everybody falls in love somehow." 

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / i wanna note that this doesn’t follow TITANS Jason Todd. you can use whatever version you want. the reason i say this is because the lack of gifs for Jason that Tumblr provides is w a c k.

“don’t bullshit me Jason, I really don’t need you coming up with any kind of excuse on the spot,” you told Jason. he could tell you were being completely serious. you weren’t feigning anything as you looked him straight in the eyes, “i’m done with the excuse and i’m personally done with waiting for someone who doesn’t make time for me.” 

Jason tried grabbing your hand but you immediately took it back. not caring if you were making a scene or not. 

Dick and Tim were in the unfortunate situation of being present for you argument and although they felt kind of awkward being around, they low key wanted to hear the rest of the argument. they felt awful for you but Jason had it coming. 

“don’t leave me. don’t you dare leave me!” Jason screamed. you shook your head, “you did this to yourself, Todd. you don’t get to play the victim in this situation,” you stated before grabbing your bag and exiting Jason’s apartment. 

Tim as well as Dick stood in awkward silence. not knowing whether to comfort Jason or leave. this was the first time in what felt like ages that they have seen Jason so vulnerable. 

you were Jason’s version of normal. although you weren’t a hero or any kind of sidekick, you did help out any of the teams that needed an extra hand at their respective lairs. you had a flair for working computers and knew your way around them when Tim wasn’t available. 

-

a few weeks had passed since your ‘break up’ with Jason. you had helped out the Bat’s a few times within the weeks but you made sure to keep your distance with Jason. whenever he appeared, you went to another section of the Batcave or moved completely to the second level so you wouldn’t even have to run into him. 

today, however; you were hanging around Tim’s team. you were in the mood to bug Connor as you were helping Jon with some of his schoolwork and decided to stick around. you weren’t particularly close with Connor but he did have a soft side with you so you messing with him didn’t necessarily upset him. 

“Tim or Connor, how much would it cost for you to bring me food from the chicken place around the corner?” you asked the two boys. “Connor could probably take you. I don’t think Tim’s moving from his computer anytime soon but I don’t mind piggybacking you there,” Wally said from the other side of the table. 

you huffed, smacking Tim on the side of the head and getting up. 

“well if that’s the case, come on West, you’re taking me,” you said grabbing his shoulder. Tim from the corner of his eye examined your interaction with Wally. you were getting a bit closer to the redhead and he found it a bit weird considering you weren’t close with him while you were with Jason, “hold on,” Wally smirked as he hauled you over onto his back. 

you laughed, holding on tightly as he zoomed out the door. Tim knew it wasn’t any of his business to get involved in relationship drama. he wanted nothing to do with it personally but seeing you close with Wally rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. maybe it was the idea that he still had hope for you to that made him text his adoptive brother. 

“your girl is going out with Wally. they’re going to be at the restaurant by my place if you’re wondering.” 

Jason had been moping around when he wasn’t going on any missions so when he saw Tim texting him, he found it weird within itself. he hardly messaged any of his brothers so receiving one from Tim no less was pretty odd. 

his heart dropped a bit reading the text. he had no idea you were even close with the speedster so to be going on a date with him put him on edge. Jason immediately ran out of his door and booking it on his motorcycle to the restaurant. 

had any police been on the streets, Jason would’ve received copious amount of tickets by the way he was speeding but he could have cared less. he arrived to the restaurant in due time. he saw you sitting down, eating with Wally as the two of you were basically scarfing down the food in front of you. 

Jason felt a pang to his chest as he watched you talk with Wally like nothing was wrong. he had never seen you so care free before. even when the two of you went out for a date or something, he felt so on edge thinking that something could happen to you. 

Jason didn’t want to sound more problematic than he already was but he felt a feeling of possessiveness hit him seeing you with Wally. like he didn’t want you going out with anyone that wasn’t him. his eye twitched every time Wally made you laugh or whenever you reached over to smack or touch him. 

eventually, he saw you and Wally getting up from the table. he quickly hopped on his motorcycle and drove back to his place, more upset than he thought he would be. 

he shot Tim a text back, thanking him for letting him knowing. 

Jason had heard a few days ago that you were planning on going out with a few of your friends with a club in Gotham and that happened to be today. he knew that following you to whatever club you were going too would be wrong but with the way he was feeling, he didn’t care. he was coming along..even if he had to hide in the crowd. 

he inched his way back to your place a few hours later to see you already getting dressed. you were wearing one of Jason’s favorite outfits and that alone made him want to go over to you and remind you that you were his. (WHY DID THIS GO SO YANDERE ALL OF A SUDDEN PFT).

the funny thing in all of this was that he saw you slip in some crocs into your bag. he knew you hated wearing shoes let alone heels so to see you probably change into them through the night made him chuckle. 

once you got into your car and made your way into Gotham to the club you were meeting your friends at, he walked in through the side and stood in the corner as he watched you get ID’d and walk inside. all of you were sitting at a table and ordering your first round of drinks. you downed a shot of whatever you had ordered before grabbing your friends hand taking her out into the dance floor. 

Jason walked in a bit closer but making sure to stay hidden. he saw you just dancing with your friend and couldn’t help but gulp. the way you were dancing and grinding up against your friend would have had him dragging you to the nearest bathroom for getting him riled up. (insert gif above)

he remained watching you until he noticed a guy approaching you. the guy was on the taller side, greasy hair flopping to the side of his face, and his clothes looked like he hadn’t changed out of it in days. 

“really, I’m fine. I don’t dance with people I don’t know,” you stated as you friend pulling you away. the guy quickly grabbed your other hand, “c’mon, one dance?” you shook him off, stating once again that you weren’t interested before walking back to the table. 

Jason, although the interaction was minor, was seeing red. he waited until the guy left to catch him in the single bathroom, leaving him bloody and bruised. he looked down to the guy before chuckling, “you should really learn what no means,” he spat before leaving. 

by the time he entered the floor again, you were already back on the floor dancing. you were dancing with another friend as you sipped on a drink and minded your business. it took a few internal screams to remind himself that he couldn’t just walk over to you and take you by the hand but almost after that, he heard commotion coming from the other end of the bar. 

closer to where you were.

Jason walked slowly to make sure shit didn’t get out of hand. you didn’t even realize that an entire fight had broken out by you as you were too busy singing to the song that was playing. it wasn’t until you heard gunshots that made you flinch and realize that shit was going down. 

you grabbed your friend, screaming at them to forget their things as you took everything the Bats had told you about situations like this and basically run for your life. you ran to the nearest exit before hearing gunshots going off again. this time, you tried ducking but it was far too late. you felt an impact against your left shoulder blade.

the gunshot immediately made you fall onto the ground as Jason practically sprinted to you. you weren’t even conscious enough to realize what was going on anymore but as you tried to get up to run once again, you felt yourself get pistol whipped on the nose as you fell again. 

Jason finally made it towards you after he signaled the Outlaws and even the some of the Bats to make their way to the club. you were trying your best to keep your eyes open but they were slowly starting to fall shut. 

“hey! hey! don’t fall asleep on me,” you heard Jason’s panicked voice. you laughed, leaning against him, “of course you would’ve followed me here but Jay, I’m kinda tired,” you whispered as your eyes fell completely shut. Jason shook you again as he tried to make sure you stayed awake, “don’t leave me. don’t you fucking leave me!” he screamed. 

it took a few minutes but eventually, the paramedics came in and got you onto a stretcher as Tim, Roy, and for some odd reason, Damian walked inside. they saw your state of being and looked to Jason. 

“a fight broke out and one of them shot off with gunshots. she got shot on the shoulder and hit with the gun to the nose,” he explained as he watched the ambulance put you inside. he knew...he hoped that you would make it out okay because he had some business to take care of before he went to visit you in the hospital, “I’ll be back,” he growled, getting up and running out the door. 

Roy, Tim, and Damian looked at each other realizing what he was about to do. they quickly followed him out the door but by the time they reached him, he was already running down the darkened ally, trailing what they assumed were the people that hurt you. 

Jason managed to tackle them to the floor, getting the ring leader as he stepped on the guys throat. he made sure not to make him pass out as he wanted the guy to feel his punches. Jason was big. size comparison to Superman so the punches to the face felt unearthly. 

“JASON STOP!” Tim screamed as Roy grabbed his best friend along with Damian, “if you get caught up in all this, you won’t be able to visit her. stop!” he yelled as he asked Roy to keep him calm, “go to the hospital. Roy can even take you but Robin and I have this,” he continued. 

he wanted to argue but for the first time in his life, Jason actually listened. he knew that he would get nothing by spending the night in a jail cell. Roy let him go when he realized that Jason was calm enough and let him to his motorcycle to follow you to the hospital. 

Jason got to the hospital about a half hour later. he immediately ran to the front desk, screaming your name to the receptionist who flinched back in fear. she walked him slowly to the room where you were at and informed him that you weren’t severely injured and most of the damage was on the nose. the blood you had lost was already getting pumped back into you. 

he saw you asleep on the bed as he pulled the chair up to your bed. Jason had never saw you this way before and frankly, it scared the shit outta him. he never wanted to see you this way again. 

without realizing, Jason had fallen asleep on the chair with his hand holding yours. it wasn’t until you actually woke up to see Jason asleep that you slowly shook him awake. Jason jumped up in fright and when he saw that you were awake, a sigh of relief was released. 

“how are you feeling? do you need anything?” he asked as you shook your head, “why did I know you would follow me to the club tonight?” you said with a tired smile. Jason shrugged, “you know how hard it is for me to quit you,” he confessed. 

while you did want to keep up your anger towards him, you weren’t even in the mood to start arguing with him. “Jason, seriously?” you said, not knowing what to say. Jason checked the door to make sure it was closed before basically hovering over you, “I can’t lose you. I just can’t. you’re the only thing that makes me feel normal. I know I wasn’t prioritizing you but I just can’t see you with anyone else. seeing you with Wally earlier almost made me want to kill him. I swear, I’ll start being better. I’ll make sure to make time for you but please, don’t leave me,” he yelled but softly. 

you had never heard Jason so vulnerable before, “wait, how did you know I was with Wally earlier?” you asked. Jason smiled sheepishly, knowing he was about to rat Tim out, “Tim might’ve told me,” he said. you squinted your eyes, “that asshole,” you said. 

“Jay, it’s hard to believe that when this isn’t the first time its happened. I just, I can’t be put in third or fourth place anymore. I see the way Dick and his girlfriend are and he still makes time for her and I always question why can’t you do the same!” you replied. Jason nodded understandingly, “I know but please, please trust me. one more chance and if I screw this up, you have every right to leave me for good,” he said almost immediately. 

you sighed, thinking for a few moments, “fine. one more chance and if you ruin it, it’s over. I won’t care what you say or do to try and get me back,” you threatened as Jason sighed in relief. 

he bent down for a kiss that had went longer than usual. it was getting steamier by the second but before you could continue, you heard a knock on the door indicating that the nurse or a doctor realized you were awake, “later, I promise. you’ll have enough time for this when you nurse me back to health,” you whispered making Jason laugh, “good because the way you were dancing with your friend might’ve turned me on more than I want to admit,” he said. 

you rolled your eyes as Jason sat back down on the chair as the doctor walked in. 

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Trouble ~ J.V.

A/n: I see my Jerome peeps are HERE and I’m LOVING IT! Prompt list here so y’all don’t have to scroll ;) Feel free to request as many as you want for commission or when requests are open again. I LOVE using prompts!!

Request: “...6, 8 with Jerome Valeska” by anon

6: “You are actually Satan, oh my god.”

8: “Wow, I am so in love with you… just wow.”

MASTERLIST

You know how you see someone, and it’s so obvious where they’ll end up that it’s like a scene in your head? It’s never good when this happens, so usually it’s a sad story and you kind of just frown and shake your head and pity the person, but you know that saying anything won’t do you any good so you just sit back and keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable end.

That’s how everyone saw Jerome Valeska.

People had never cared about Jerome, though. If they ever had, it was wiped away pretty quickly. Brutally murdering people with no care for who was on what side, who had helped or hurt, or without even a little remorse or pity or hesitation or regret... it was one of those things that most people found to be a bit of a turn off. Those who didn’t were seen to be just as unhinged as Jerome was, so they were dismissed as well.

The thing was, people HAD cared about Y/n. She was one of the most intellectually promising in her entire high school, maybe in all of Gotham. She was the kind of teenager that seemed so very adult. She was respectful and poised and very well controlled. She was pleasant to be around, and even much older people didn’t mind talking to her if they happened to be in the same place. She’d even made some pleasant relationships.

Like the friendship she had with Bruce Wayne.

Through him, she had come to learn about and meet and even get along with everyone Bruce knew. She could get along with anybody she wanted to, without threats or intimidation or groveling. She simply existed, and she had a sort of comforting, approachable presence about her. She wasn’t the least bit threatening, but she was... nice, I guess. Even dangerous people liked her, because she was the only person who didn’t seem to care about power or advantageous interactions or anything like that.

She was just nice to talk to.

This showed most prominently when she talked to people like Edward Nigma, or Oswald Cobblepott, or Silena Kyle. She’d even found herself in situations to talk to Barbara Gordan. Victor Zsasz.

People usually chalked it up to her being quite unlucky.

Because she was so unsuspecting and unproblematic and calm, she turned out to be a really good hostage. She didn’t talk back or lash out, she just sat and behaved and looked at you with a very calm, calculated expression.

Zsasz had run into her when he’d worked for Penguin and had been guarding her so that Oswald could make a deal without worrying about his bargaining chip being compromised. After a while, Y/n had asked how Zsasz’s day was going. They’d had a short, pleasant conversation, leaving the assassin intrigued by the girl when she’d been let go.

Barbara had a similar experience, except it had been when she was in Arkham of all places. Everyone had a weird thing, and very few if any people knew Y/n’s, but even she had one too. Her weird thing was visiting Arkham Asylum every once in a while visiting random people inside it, and then talking to them with the most easy normality. Like they’d been life long friends, or the person she was talking to was completely sane. She never judged or snapped, she just had a neutral expression with a sort of interest in her eyes. She was polite enough that Barbara had entertained the visit, and found herself not totally regretting it afterward.

Oswald had met her when he was mayor. She had dropped by as an errand for Jim Gordon, and had started a casual conversation when Oswald had expected her to leave when thing were handled. At first he’d been suspicious, and he still was if he was honest, but she hadn’t asked any prying questions or tried to get at him from any angle. If he drew a line, she respected it immediately and moved onto something else without missing a beat. When he got uncomfortable, she apologized and wished him a good day before excusing herself. After she’d show up several more times, sometimes sent by Jim, sometimes just to say hello, Oswald eventually relaxed. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t expect him to, but when she stopped by to say hello he’d have someone bring them tea and they’d have a little chat. He was a little surprised when she didn’t visit him in Arkham, but when they ran into each other a little later, she nodded to him with a little smile and he got the impression she wasn’t angry with him.

As time passed, more and more people who were considered to be Gotham’s worst were coming up with more and more stories of Y/n. The girl who didn’t scream when she walked into a store and saw a dead body, but who’s neutrality wasn’t unsettling as much as it was kind of calming. She had all the makings of a twisted, demented villain, and yet she was the most normal person ever. It was confusing and intriguing, but never distinctly a bad thing. She was well known, and no one had anything bad to say about her. 

It was only a matter of time before Jerome found her.

Not long after he did, he was as taken with her as everyone else. She wasn’t annoying, or unnerved by him. She was in fact endlessly interesting. He thought eventually he would get bored of her complete lack of response to even the most terrible things he told her in an effort to get her going, but found instead that the sort of sparks of interest in her gaze and the small smile that sometimes almost touched her lips was enough to keep him engaged.

She was the exact opposite of him, but in a way that didn’t drive him to want her to be gone. He didn’t WANT to kill her. It was weird, and he was living for it.

Slowly, Y/n stopped showing up in public. She stopped visiting Arkham, and the police department. She stopped running into dangerous people who never seemed to mind seeing her around, even if they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone. She graduated high school but never talked about college. She just... slowly started to disappear.

It wasn’t as suspicious as it was disappointing. No one could tell where she was going or why all the accidental bump ins were being so carefully removed, but it was leaving the idea in everyone’s head that they might not have been accidents to begin with. Not most of them at least. That was the only thing that it could be, after years and years of her being so very unlucky, only for her to quite suddenly not run into a single soul ever. Even when people sought her out, they couldn’t find her unless she wanted to be found.

She appeared rather suddenly at Jerome’s side one day out of the blue.

No one noticed her behind the line of people in chairs. They were distracted by Jerome talking about his terribly sad past, and the people with explosive collars locked around their necks. Most importantly noted: Bruce Wayne and Jerome’s twin brother, Jeremiah.

It wasn’t until Jerome drew attention to her that anyone even registered her at all. She was so still and quiet that behind all the chaos, she might as well have been invisible.

Jerome was only too enthused to rub it in everyone’s faces.

“You know you don’t like me, and that’s fair. I’m not like any of you, am I? I don’t smile right, and I act weird. Then there’s the whole killing people thing.” He giggled, but the crowd in front of him only looked disgusted. “But is that why you really hate me, Gotham? Because I’m a big ol mean bad guy? Do you hate me because I’m a little unhinged? Because I’m a little loud and hysterical and I scare you? Or do I scare you because I have no problem being very honest and very open with all of the things you people LOVE to push under the rug and hide away and pretend no one can see.” He shook his head. “Because I’ve come to realize there is someone who’s exactly like me, but so much better at playing all of you. So much better at playing innocent and harmless and friendly, and with no real intentions other than to prove how easy you all are. How transparent.” His eyes drifted toward Y/n, and he motioned her forward. Without hesitating, she did take a few steps forward, into the light and right behind Bruce Wayne.

Gasps echoed in the crowd. To everyone’s stunned silence, Y/n stood there with the same calm and reservation she always did. She seemed perfectly unbothered by the dead body inches from her, or the people she had always seemed so close to being in danger. She didn’t look around, trying to gauge a way out, and nothing held her in forced obedience. She just looked at Jerome, that same nice, almost-smile and curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“What-” Bruce looked around, mouth dropping open when he saw who was behind him. “Y/n?”

“Ah yes,” Jerome purred. “Gotham’s little angel. Friend to all. Unassuming and nice and calm and wonderful. Aren’t you just a pillar of perfection, Y/n?” He giggled again, and Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing a little,

For the first time ever, Y/n was unnerving. Seeing her of all people look dangerous was so upsetting that the crowd started to step down from their anger towards Jerome and were edging toward true fear. If she could end up being bad, who else could? If even the bets of them could be corrupted, and even the most deranged mind could act completely normal, how could anyone ever tell when people were dangerous anymore?

It could be anyone. Anyone they trusted. Anyone they knew. Anyone they’d talked to long enough to decide they were safe. Because Bruce Wayne had known Y/n best of anyone in Gotham, and even he looked as stunned as everyone felt. He had spent copious amounts of time with her, including for hours straight during school hours, and even he had not on any level or in any way seen anything like this coming.

“Y/n?” Bruce whispered.

Y/n met his gaze. “Yes?”

He wasn’t sure what to ask her. “What’s going on?” is what he settled on.

She shrugged, as if they were catching up after school. During tea time maybe, after having not seen each other recently. “Nothing much. I’m observing and learning. People are so intriguing Bruce, have you ever noticed? I’ve learned so much. All I ever had to do was be polite, and everyone would let me sit there as long as I wanted and observe them. You learn so much by watching people, but even more from talking to them. And they always let me. All I had to do was let them talk. I never lied. I never pushed. I was respectful and curious, and they responded so well. I’ve come to learn that even the most suspicious people feel the loneliness of humanity. They crave to be wanted. To looked at. All I had to do was show interest, and they thrived under that attention. You really have to do so little for people to like you. It’s so interesting.”

Bruce’s eyes had been widening as she spoke. She said it all like she was observing humanity in a way that she wasn’t apart of it. “You’re like us, aren’t you?”

“Oh of course,” she agreed. “That’s the thing. I wanted to understand myself, so I looked at those like me. And those unlike me. To see what was and wasn’t me. To see what was similar and what was so very completely different.” She chuckled softly and Bruce felt sick to his stomach. “I never expected to find someone so very similar to me to be someone seen the eyes of everyone else as exactly opposite. Jerome and I? Very much the same, except I’d rather learn than act. I never really cared about people’s opinions or if they didn’t like me or if they were mean. I was too unassuming for bullying or abuse. I didn’t care if people looked over me like Jerome does, and that’s really the only difference. I just wanted to learn, and people were always willing to let me.” She shrugged. “But people are so simple. So easy to understand. MUCH more straight forward than any of them would like to admit. I think I’m going to be staying with Jerome from now on. He’s interesting. He understands.”

Jeremiah knew who she was only by association, and even he was surprised, despite having known Jerome very close up for so long. He supposed it wasn’t fault, but watching Bruce, he wondered if he’d even been able to tell her true nature. Even now she looked completely normal and safe. Her eyes were full of life, and she was fairly attractive. The way she stood was relaxed and the way she talked was completely normal. What was upsetting about her was not that she was obviously messed up. It was that she was so painfully normal in even a situation that should have been quite upsetting.

“You’re a sociopath,” Jeremiah offered in a sort of leveled voice. Her eyes turned to him and he realized that her calmness was contagious. She had the look of someone you could just... fall into. So easy to trust. Even now he found himself a little lured by her. She was honest about who she was. She didn’t hide anything. She was just quiet, and people forgot to ask. That wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could still be saved from his deranged brother.

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, and her complete acceptance of that didn’t sit well with Jeremiah. “Would you like me to show you? I have come to learn that everyone wants some sort of proof of it. They have a hard time believing me.”

“No that’s okay,” Jeremiah rushed to reassure just as Jerome squealed, “Yes please!”

Between the two opposite reactions from the two very opposite twins, Bruce got the idea of what her kind of proof might mean. “Don’t worry Y/n, we believe you.”

She nodded, and the two boys thought that’d be the end of it. But then she pulled an actual gun out of seemingly nowhere, pointed it at the crowd, and shot without even hesitating. There went up a scream as people scattered, revealing the body of a woman bleeding out on the ground. The bullet had hit someone around her neck and no one could do anything other than give her and themselves plenty of room away from her.

Jerome squealed with excitement.

Bruce looked at Y/n with horror. “I said we believed you! You didn’t have to kill her!”

“But I did,” Y/n decided. “Because they didn’t believe me.” Her lips turned up into a stronger smile. There was no regret or hesitation in her eyes, and Bruce felt dread slowly settle throughout his body. She WAS exactly like Jerome and the only reason this was her first kill is because she’d decided to wait until now to kill someone. They’d all been at her mercy this entire time, like a mouse held down by a mouse trap. Except they’d been perfectly fine just sitting in her trap and letting her watch with mild interest as they died.

She was just like Jerome.

One of the other people in line spat, “You’re actually Satan, oh my god.” His eyes were wide and Bruce got the idea that if he hadn’t been held by the explosive collar, he might have bolted. “You let all of us trust you and welcome you and be around you. You gained our trust, and you don’t even care about us?”

Very calmly, Y/n simply shook her head. “We’re all just meat. Do you care about the animals scientists test on to give you your makeup products and medicine? Do you care about the pig killed for its meat, or the dogs that rip each other apart in the streets for entertainment and money? We’re just animals. You guys have just gotten the idea stuck in your head for some reason that we’re special animals. You won’t admit those animals will eat you just as quickly as you will them. Pigs have high intelligence. You think you’re gods because you have the highest intelligence and then ignore how you so easily ignore what you know and do what you want instead. You give into nature just like any predator. I have simply stopped being either. I’m not villain. I’m not a hero. And you think the people who watch the villain are a different category, but they’re not. They do nothing, and bad thing happen, and that’s it. A woman died, and people didn’t do anything to stop it. There’s a whole crowd of people not held here by anything other than a secret, sick fascination with the terrible things happening here. You are just as bad as Jerome. Just as bad as me. You just refuse to admit it. I don’t. That’s all.”

Grinning, Jerome sat forward in his chair. “Wow I am so in love with you.” He giggled and everyone in the area cringed. The idea of Jerome Valeska being involved like that with Y/n... And the way she seemed to not mind it either. On top of everything else that had happened here, it was so viscerally upsetting. Jerome stood, moving behind the people in chairs to gently grab Y/n’s face, pulling her lips against his. When he pulled away, everyone’s face had gone scaringly pale. “Just, wow,” the red head whispered. 

Y/n seemed to consider that. “You know, I think I have some sort of care for you. Like... like how someone explained a pet to me. Is that how affection feels?” She still looked only curious. It made sense that in a world who didn’t care to learn about people like her, and after a lifetime of holding back her questions and lack of understanding, even after all this time she still would be confused about the different way she experienced relationships with other people.

Jerome shrugged. “I think not, but I can be your pet if you want.”

Y/n smiled. “I think I do want that.”

A victorious smile adorned Jerome’s face. “That’s all I needed!” He turned to face his brother and Bruce Wayne again. “See, I was so stuck on you two. I died wanting to kill Brucie, and I’ve lived my entire life wanting to kill my dear brother, so I lived for nothing else. I thought of nothing else. I existed to end you two. But now, I have a different purpose. There is nothing like looking at someone you find so very interesting and them returning that back to you.” He giggled. “Mom always said I’d never find love. Aren’t you proud of me for proving her wrong?”

“This isn’t love,” Bruce snapped. “It’s demented. You can’t feel love. Neither of you can.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n agreed. “But it will be fun testing that.” She turned and walked off the stage, heading back and disappearing.

Jerome sighed. “And that’s my cue.” There was a gun shot and a sharp pain in his hand as the detonator fell out of his hands. He could no longer explode the necklaces. He made an ‘oopsie’ sort of expression before ducking away as another gunshot run out. “See you around, you two!” His laughter echoed as he disappeared after Y/n, fading away too quickly.

By the time Jim Gordon chased after Jerome, it was far passed too late. Whatever Y/n had done to ensure their escape, it had left no traces. They were gone.

Behind them, they left death and the lingering feeling in the air like this was only the beginning to a very, very terrible love story.

[reddiamondgamer]

A Wrightworth Fic 3

(Finally, I was struggling with this chapter since I aim for 4 pages per chapter in Google Docs. TW Panic attack)

Beginning Previous Next A03

_____________________________

Any day that he spent with his friends or his Dollie was a good day in Phoenix’s book, though, he was pretty sure he’d suck at keeping track of anything in a book about himself. He couldn’t even put together a timeline unless he had something else other than his faulty memory to look back on.

It’d been about a month, he thinks, since the arcade meet up with Miles and Larry and Butzworth, the inflatable metallic purple alien, had since passed in an unfortunate accident otherwise known as falling on him and causing him to pop. Phoenix had hung up a piece of the deceased alien’s face on his wall and was currently glaring at it while he did what felt like expelling his lungs through his mouth. He couldn’t believe he’d lost his Cold Killer X medicine after lunch with Dollie, feeling like it was just him being clumsy and forgetful again. Dollie had promised him that she’d find the cold medicine for him, but that was a couple days ago now and he was sure that Dollie had given up by now.

A knocking on his door drew him out of his cold-induced trance and he got up to see who it could be, hoping it was Dollie with the medicine.

He tripped over a small pile of clothes as he made his way to the door, his face returning the pattern of knocking with one loud thud followed by a quiet “ow”. Pushing himself back up, he opened the door and spotted Miles’s handsome- no, not handsome, well, yes handsome, but that’s not the right thing to be thinking right now, face. He wasn’t sure why Miles was looking at him like he was a stranger though, that was weird.

“Excuse me, I am seeking my acquaintance, he goes by the name of Phoenix Wright?”

“Miles, I’m Phoenix.” He answered, brushing his hair out of his face. His bedhead must’ve really confused Miles or something.

“I am making a note to ensure you never run short of hair gel, you are not recognizable without it.”

“I’m sick, why would I be using hair gel?”

“Why would you not be? You’ve done many other ridiculous things in my presence, Wright, hair gel is no different for you.”

Phoenix could only let out an exasperated groan in response, stepping to the side so Miles could enter. He noticed his friend’s upturned nose at the sight of his dorm room, a frown prominent on his face, which still was not handsome and he’d never think about that ever again.

“I feel as if I am entering a bird’s nest.”

“Gee, why not help me lay a few eggs then? You’ve clearly got your feathers all ruffled by being here, I can tell by your neck frills.”

Miles’s face tinted red and his eyebrows lowered while his eyes narrowed slightly, turning his head away from Phoenix. He wondered if Miles really would inflate like a bird, letting out a laugh at the thought.

“...I’ll have you know it is called a cravat, you uneducated plebeian.”

“If I’m a plebeian, then what’re you?” Phoenix tilted his head and rubbed his chin in thought. “Are you a publican here to tell me the taxes have increased?”

“How on earth- nevermind, you’ve always retained odd information.” Miles pinched the bridge of his nose, his head shaking as he clearly fought a smile.

Phoenix’s nose suddenly began to burn and he inhaled air before quickly burying his nose in the bend of his elbow, several small sneezes being projected into his pink sweater. He coughed afterwards, his diaphragm aching heavily. He hated being sick, he didn’t like all the sneezing, the struggles to breathe, the copious amounts of snot oozing from his heated nose.

“Have you not been taking medication?”

Phoenix shook his head in response, unable to verbally respond with how clogged up his throat felt. He grabbed a plastic cup off the counter and quickly filled it up in the small kitchen sink, drinking the water until some dribbled down his chin.

“I lost it a couple days ago, Dollie was supposed to be helping me find it.”

“Is Dollie her actual name?”

“No, no,” Phoenix coughed again, his face flushed from a fever that was popping up, “her name is Dahlia, Dahlia Hawthorne.” He didn’t notice the look of shock and horror that spread across Miles’s face, distracted by his phone ringing.

He answered the phone with a nasally greeting, his mood visibly dropping when he heard who it was. He slipped the phone back in his pocket then grabbed a medical mask, stomping towards the door.

“I’ll be right back, some guy wants to talk to me.” Phoenix said before slamming the door.

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

With that resounding slam, Miles was left alone in Wright’s dwellings, his thoughts spiraling. He was filled with worry and dread at the thought of Wright being in a relationship with a woman that had murdered her own sister and framed someone else, a woman who had faked her own kidnapping years prior with help of another. Dahlia Hawthorne was very much not good news.

He glanced around the room he was in just to ground himself, noting that every single object or item in the room forced him to remember that Wright, his soulmate and childhood friend, was most definitely not safe. He could feel himself struggling to breathe and had to flee the building, his heart racing and his surroundings growing blurrier. His fists clenched and unclenched in an attempt to stimulate his nerves. The ground would not slip away from him, not today and not any day in the future.

The birds were chirping without a worry, but the leaves had turned up to expose their veins as clouds rolled in and all he could think about was the fact that Wright had no umbrella. He adjusted his cravat with a sullen expression, his eyes red with tears that refused to flow.

His soulmate, his Phoenix Wright, was enamored with a terrible, terrible excuse for a human being. Hold on, his soulmate, perhaps there was something that could be done with the chain that bound the two. He looked down at the ever-twinkling golden chain, reaching to touch it with his fingers, but feeling it pass through his grasp with a cold breeze, similar to that he’d heard of ghost encounters. Focusing on the bond, he envisioned Wright in his mind, the atrocious spiked hair and the mismatched blue and brown eyes being the first things to appear. The rest of his face followed suit, completing the imagined picture of his soulmate. He’d never given much thought about the chain before, but found that opening up to it resulted in something unexpected.

Wright’s feelings flooded him, a sense of irritation and contempt washing over him and nearly knocking him off balance. He could just barely find a slight tinge of confusion coming from Wright as well, wondering if maybe what he’d just done was not a one-way flow. Further anger boiled over his friend, forcing Miles to sit down on the dirty steps that led up to Wright’s dorm. His head was spinning and his surroundings were screaming at him, every little noise, every small cloud of smells, they all seemed to be attacking him, his senses being overwhelmed.

Miles’s world was going darker, yet darker, his body slowly shutting down. He forced himself up onto his feet, stumbling down the steps and making his way to a quiet area. His salvation in the moment turned out to be a small public bathroom, locking the door behind him as he collapsed to the floor. His breathing grew more uneven as he was disturbed by the ringing of his phone.

Lifting his phone from inside his coat pocket, he looked at the caller identification, spotting a professional image he’d snapped of the detective that often worked with him. He brushed aside his own reflection of his face falling apart in favor of answering the phone without even a polite greeting.

“Heya, sir! We just took in a suspect from a murder case and he keeps mentioning you! Do ya know anyone by the name of Phoenix Wright?” Gumshoe’s voice was boisterous through the speaker, yet Mile’s heart grew cold with fear.

“That I do.” He finally managed to get out, if not a bit hoarse.

“You sound rough, pal, you okay?” How could such a dense detective always manage to see right through him? He felt as if the entire world was closing around him.

“I am fine, detective, tell me of what happened this instant.”

“Right. Well, this guy was found near the body of another college student named Doug Swallow. We’re waiting on the autopsy report right now, but it’s clear as day your pal’s a murderer, sir. He’s in the detention center right now.”

Miles wasn’t sure if he was capable of responding further without dissolving into an unprofessional babble, simply humming in response and ending the call. Gumshoe had always possessed a loud voice and it was only now that that voice was assisting in his current downfall, the words echoing throughout his mind and ringing in his ears. Wright had been arrested for a murder. He could feel something near devastation through the chain that now burned his wrist. What could he do now?

[iron-mum]

My Spider Sense is Shinglin’

By @iron-mum and @geekinthecorner for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange 

Rating: General

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark (Brief appearances from Stephen Strange, Helen Cho and Bruce Banner)

Summary: 

“You feeling okay, bud?” He said, racing over and helping the teen disentangle his legs from the blanket. “A little,” Peter lied badly, unsure why he’d even bothered trying. Even his greatest attempts at white lies couldn’t get past his mentor. He’d grown to know the kid and his antics exceptionally well. “You wanna try that again with less understatements?” “Headache.” Peter started, pausing for just a moment. Tony had lingered just to see if anymore was going to come before standing up, with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He’d barely lifted his leg to take the first step when... “Spidey Sense still tingling… Not hungry… Hot.”

or: Peter mistakes shingles for a pulled muscles and suffers miserably.

Tony had a knack for knowing when something was wrong. An ingrained intuition from the copious amounts of people he had met in his lifetime had led to some pretty nifty bullshit detecting skills. The genius paid attention far more than he was given credit for, particularly when it came to the few people he held closest and dearest. Peter was adamant that if he were a Sim he would have the perceptive and observant trait, albeit his chance of learning something new from a socialisation being higher than the thirty-five percent the game offered. The duo had settled for a solid seventy percent.

So, when the very intern who praised his observational skills barely uttered more than a greeting upon sheepishly entering the lab, Tony knew something was up. Peter who was usually all beaming, charismatic grins and energetic pacing on the floor—or ceiling— had been sat in the same spot for almost an hour or so, features so tense it looked unnatural. Initially, the older man had made subtle changes to the environment they were in, lowering the music a notch and dimming the lights ever so slightly in an effort to decipher the discomfort the kid was apparently unwilling to discuss. All had proven unsuccessful.

“You okay, buddy?” Tony questioned softly, when he noticed the teen wince and wriggle from his seated position. The deciphering had been going on all morning so all that had been left was tackling the issue head on. Rather than answering, Peter put the pen down that he’d been aimlessly playing with and cupped his face in his hands, breathing harsher than usual.

“My Spider Sense has just been really acting up all day,” he hesitantly replied as he heard his mentor’s steps draw closer. “It’s been getting more uncomfortable as the day progressed.”

A cool hand tentatively cupped his neck before manoeuvring to the left shoulder and offering a comforting squeeze. Peter instantly wished the soothing touch to his skin lasted longer than the few seconds it had, an involuntary whine escaping his lips as he fought to not cry there and then at how glorious it had been.

Alarm bells were ringing in his mentor’s head instantaneously. An admission of discomfort was rare and not something to be taken lightly when coming from someone who could easily make jokes about being stabbed or hit by a truck. That in addition to a sound that resembled a small baby animal in distress had Tony’s mind in overdrive.

“You’re feeling a little peaky. Why don’t we call it a day for lab time and go up to the penthouse?” Tony offered, mentally chastising the potential for Parker luck to strike at this very moment. The kid’s aunt was away for a week with training and Pepper was abroad for international meetings. Not that he didn’t want to look after Peter, the mechanic just immediately felt awkward and three thousand percent out of his league at the prospect. There was a small sigh of relief when Peter finally meandered off his chair, the duo slowly making their way towards the elevator. The older man’s hand remained on the kid’s shoulder, thumb occasionally rubbing the teen’s neck as he seemed to be enjoying the movement.

“You take a seat on the couch, I’ll fix us up some snacks,” Tony directed as he watched Peter totter across the room before sluggishly flopping onto the sofa, one arm immediately resting over his eyes whilst the other lay across his chest and holding his left side. There had barely been a hum of acknowledgement.

Peter felt absolutely, fudging dreadful. His stomach growled in hunger as a reminder that he’d waited far too long to eat but his appetite was completely shot. Almost like his mind had dissociated from the basic needs it required. All he could concentrate on was not succumbing to the pain in his flank which at this rate had gone from dull ache to a thousand knives piercing him over and over.

Not wanting to eat and feeling like the worst human possible for not telling his mentor to stop the food preparation, Peter opted for feigning to be asleep. A difficult task in itself considering the spikes of pins and needles he’d been feeling. Amidst the all-over-body irritation was a very prominent, localised pain to his left side. The teen had put it down to a pulled muscle as he had been patrolling a lot more vigorously than usual with the school break now in full swing. Nice one, Parker.

The self diagnosis Peter provided himself meant that he’d been reluctant to mention anything to Tony prior, not wanting to be a burden over something that should have been trivial. His mentor did always seem to be dealing with more than enough on his plate anyway. With a small shiver at the feeling of bugs crawling across his skin, Peter began to second guess not providing Mr. Stark with all the details of his symptoms. After what seemed like a moment’s hesitation, a soft material was being draped over him.

Tony had clearly fallen for the fake sleeping act. Or was just too polite to call him out on it . Allowing Peter the whole sofa, he slid an armchair across so he was within close proximity to the kid and pulled out a Stark Tablet ensuring the brightness was low. The genius had used the settings on the tablet to dim the room and ensure no one disturbed them.

The teen could hear the tablets gentle thrum, the sound of Tony’s fingers delicately touching the pad and his steady, calming heartbeat. His breathing was soft and gentle, a steady tempo that Peter found himself trying to follow. He eventually yielded to drowsiness and found himself slowly falling into darkness, hoping he’d feel better after a nap.

Peter’s wake up had been particularly violent. The teen shot up after feeling an excruciating sting in his side, skin feeling like he was literally on fire. He’d swiftly fallen backwards into the cushions, mind still catching up with the body, leaving him with a sense of disorientation and overwhelmingly lightheaded. Tony was at his side within seconds, clearly just returning from the bathroom, a flare of panic in his eyes.

“You feeling okay, bud?” He said, racing over and helping the teen disentangle his legs from the blanket.

“A little,” Peter lied badly, unsure why he’d even bothered trying. Even his greatest attempts at white lies couldn’t get past his mentor. He’d grown to know the kid and his antics exceptionally well.

“You wanna try that again with less understatements?”

“Headache,” Peter started, pausing for just a moment. Tony had lingered just to see if anymore was going to come before standing up, with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He’d barely lifted his leg to take the first step when...

“Spidey Sense still tingling… Not hungry… Hot.”

“The day you’re not hungry is the day the whole country falls apart,” Tony frowned as he headed to the kitchen and ran the tap. A full glass of water and wrung out flannel later he was back at Peter’s side and very carefully helping him to sit up, the sway and unease in the teen’s movements evident.

The thought of water had Peter feeling nauseous but he knew this wasn’t something his mentor was going to back down on. He held the glass in his hands, leaving it on his lap for a moment and enjoying the cold temperature on his fingertips. The older man carefully placed the flannel on his neck and boy, was it heavenly. A final moment of discomfort dissipated and the relief was overwhelming.

“Peter?” Tony asked, tone full of a parental tone that Peter had only thought he’d ever hear from his Aunt. The flannel was off of his neck and wiping away the sweat from his face, a thumb underneath the cloth carefully gliding under his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” burst out of his lips before he could stop it when he registered the way his face had crumpled, just about holding in the tears. “I don’t want to be sick.”

"Come here, kid," his mentor offered soothingly and quietly, knowing that when Peter was this burnt out, a sensory overload could creep in and take over at any minute. And that was the last thing he needed added to the mix of symptoms. Tony placed the flannel down and took the glass from tremoring hands before opening his arms.

Peter complied, leaning into Tony, his face buried into the older man’s shoulder as one of his hands clutched tightly onto the rock band themed t-shirt. His body let out a long, shuddering breath no longer able to keep it in through fear his lungs would burst. It was a bittersweet mixture of relief and excruciating stabbing in his side again.

"I’ve got you, buddy. Nice slow, breaths for me. I’ve got you." Tony’s arms were wrapped around him tightly now, a strong grip that left him feeling protected and grounded. One hand found its way in the teen’s hair and started to massage the scalp, occasionally lifting the curls and allowing them to ping back.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” the teen mumbled, face not wanting to leave from its smushed position in the older man’s t-shirt.

Acting on an instinct he had been aggressively repressing, Tony simply tilted his head down and pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair in response. All those years of being so abundantly sure he’d never had kids were well and truly buried in the past. It wasn’t necessarily that he’d disliked children or wanted to be tied down to a miniature version of himself, fragile and requiring a dependant who could at least look after themselves which wasn’t one of his strongest traits. But he also had a terrible fear of failing. Of being like Howard.  

Whilst he knew he didn’t have it in himself to be so ruthless and cruel, it troubled him to no end. And even when Peter Parker had come along and wormed his way into his life in all the best kinds of ways. It had taken time to acknowledge the level of care he’d had. This young, endearing, little shit had Tony wanting to give him his all. Hell, the more weekends they’d spent together the more sure he was that Peter would in fact be his legacy. A part of his small circle of friends who he trusted like family and would fiercely protect at all costs. And despite the pair not seeming to be aware of how close their bond was, a majority of their nearest and dearest could spot it from a mile away whilst being blindfolded.

“You wanna tell me when you started feeling this funk? Do I need to speak with Helen?” Tony questioned when Peter pulled away.

“I pulled a muscle on my left side a few days ago and kinda felt off since then. The tingling has been the same, but like initially it was on and off. Sometimes it was on par with that time Vulture dropped a warehouse on me and the next, like that time I entered the building on fire to save Tiddles the tortoise. Or that time I got road rash after being dragged by a van down fifth street. Or that time Tiddles took a chunk out of my finger.”

“Alright. I’m going to be honest. That's a lot to unpack, kid,” Tony remarked when he’d managed to metaphorically pick his jaw off the ground.

“Few days of stuff. Sometimes aches, sometimes sharp shooty pains,” Peter clarified as he rubbed his nose.

“When you’re feeling better we’ll be having a chat. Particularly about this apparent arch nemesis, Tiddles .”

“Tiddles is totally my villain origin story.”

“On the subject of villains , wanna carry on watching The Big Hero 6 series? Globby has me on the edge of my seat on what he’s going to get up to next.”

“Sounds like a plan, Iron Man.”

On cue, F.R.I.D.A.Y. dimmed the lights as the TV turned on and the surround sound immediately kicked in. As the opening theme popped up on the screen, Tony was on his feet and skipping towards the kitchen to retrieve the snacks he’d prepared beforehand. He shoved a bowl into Peter’s hands, a smirk tugging at his lips when the teen immediately took a handful of popcorn and shovelled it into his mouth. The older man took a seat next to Peter, digging into a bowl of chips with a side of dip.

As the afternoon slowly turned into evening, Peter had slowly scooted towards his mentor until Tony got the hint and had shifted his arm to the back of the sofa so the teen’s head could rest on his chest. Eventually the hand that had previously been gripping the back of the couch would find its way wrapped around the boy’s shoulders and then eventually providing tender ministrations across the scalp.

The aches and protests Peter’s body had been firing off seemed to be that much easier to ignore as they cuddled. Not only was the calm heartbeat and steady breathing back to lull the teen to sleep, but he could also feel the gently hearty chuckles of Tony as well as his warmth. Like a heated blanket set to the perfect temperature. Peter succumbed to darkness with the faintest of smile across his face that the man who hated being emotionally vulnerable and often recoiled from physical contact had made an exception for him. And how freaking lucky and privileged was that?

Although Peter was feeling completely shattered, sleep did not arrive once he’d gone to bed. He’d managed to nap again on the sofa which had prompted his mentor to call it a night. The teen’s bleary eyes checked the time from his bedside clock—04:03—he let out a defeated groan. He’d certainly been drowsy, but felt like he’d been on the edge of drifting to sleep and then immediately stirring.

The usual comfort and feeling of safety of Tony’s MIT hoodie was instantly tarnished as his skin prickled with fire at the fabric being placed over it. Peter audibly gulped before creeping out of the room and heading to the lab, wanting to be in his mentor’s presence or at least find some sort of distraction.

As the doors made a gentle swooshing noise upon opening, he felt his mentor's gaze fall upon him. Peter spotted the squint of Tony's eyes as he started to study him. He definitely could tell the teen looked as shit as he felt no doubt. Bags under his glassy eyes at the level of exhaustion he was feeling and cheeks still flushed even though the ambient temperature.

“Stop analysing me please, Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbled, wishing the world would just swallow him up already.

"I can't tell if you're up early or late." Tony stated as he dropped the tools he was working on and hastily made his way towards Peter's side. The boy’s body language was screaming undeniable discomfort as he clearly started to struggle to even move.

"I tried to sleep, I really did." Peter answered more exasperated that he had meant to. He'd seen right through his mentor's statement, knowing he'd wanted to ask if he’d actually got any sleep. “I was so... uncomfortable,” the last word almost came out as a choke, breath hitching. “Everything… hurts.”

“Come here, buddy,” Tony gently coaxed as he went to embrace the young hero. One of his arms had barely made its way around Peter’s back when he’d recoiled back involuntarily at the burning sting the touch had caused. Tony took a horrified step back, arms awkwardly falling back to place at his sides. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh God. Oh G- I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” he gasped as his face crumpled and a frown replaced the forced neutral ‘ I’ve got this’ look.

“Peter…” Tony started, but stopped as the words barrelled out of his mentee, emotions all over the place.

“Something’s wrong with me. I don’t know why… Everything hurts… And now. Now…”

“Take a breath, kiddo. Nice and easy,” Tony instructed as he took a single step towards the teen. “Let’s get you somewhere comfy and then we’ll get you checked over, okay?”

Peter managed a weak nod, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of the hoodie and followed, trudging slowly as a bone-deep exhaustion dictated his every step. The teen didn’t recall the trip in the elevator nor getting to the sofa. Almost as if it had been a blip in time, not even a blurred feeling or sensation, just missing.

“You’re making me a little nervous, Underoos.” Tony’s voice cut through the mental fog. The tone hadn’t been condescending in any manner. Just an honest admission, hoping to catch the boy’s attention.

“It’s got worse. So much worse.”

“Fri, temperature?”

“38.7. This is up from 37.8 yesterday,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. notified, the duo both cringing at the change.

“Alright, I’m pulling rank, we need to get you checked over,” Tony decided, not wanting to take any chances with worsening symptoms. Particularly when fever was now added into the mix and his Spiderling had next to know thermoregulation.

“Wait… Wait. Could we try super soldier strength Tylenol?” Peter pleaded, giving his best puppy dog look. At this rate he was happy to put on the Peter-Pity-Party-Parker charm if it meant avoiding the dreaded medbay.

“I catch even a whiff of you getting any worse and we’ll be in the medbay quicker than you can say super soldier strength, again. Oh, and you’re having some food,” Tony conceded reluctantly as he left the kid’s side to grab the medication.

“Take these,” he requested handing over the pills once they’d been procured. “I’m going to make some toast.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled. He briefly allowed his eyes to close as he listened to his mentor potter around the kitchen, cupboards being opened and utensils being sought. The noises reminded him of the domesticity of home life with May as she’d scramble to prepare last minute lunchbox snacks for the pair of them.

His mentor returned a few minutes later with two toasted peanut butter and jam sandwiches in hand, Peter’s eyes slowly opening as he took the plate. After the first bite he let out a hum of satisfaction. Everything about it was perfect; the way the toasted bread crunched when he took a bite, the warm peanut butter coating his mouth, the tangy sweet from the strawberry jam.

By mid-morning, Peter had drifted off to sleep and Tony once again found himself watching over him. The teen’s vitals were up in the top right of his tablet, scrutinizing eyes narrowing when it had slowly started to creep back up. The agitation to touch had shortly followed as Peter would suddenly jerk and grunt.

Tentatively, Tony lightly brushed the damp curls sticking to his mentee's forehead away so he could lay a damp cloth across it. The teen let out a whimper the moment it touched, body shivering violently at its exaggerated interpretation of the coolness. The lengths Tony would do to take away the pain and discomfort for his kid couldn’t even be put into words.

They were back up to 38.7 by lunchtime. Not that Tony had seen. The tablet in his hand was precariously dangling from one hand the other still buried in Peter’s hair. Exhaustion had well and truly settled in and he’d drifted off despite all the coffee he had consumed.

An ear piercing screech and wild arm being thrown into his face woke Tony from his nap. He practically fell off the sofa as his mind tried to process what the fuck was happening. Animalistic cries, screams for help and an arm hitting him again from his position on the ground was enough to spring the words emergency into his mind.

“Fri! Call every doctor right now!” Tony said harshly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds from the request when orange flecks appeared in the room and then a portal was opened by Stephen Strange.

“List of symptoms?” was all he said, saving the greeting for later when he saw the deathly pallor of Peter’s skin and the twitchiness of Tony meaning a panic attack was likely right around the corner.

“Skin has been tingling yesterday and today but isn’t his Spider Senses. Fever, loss of appetite, sensitive to the lightest touches and a pain to his left side. Mixture of aches that range from being bitten by a tortoise to being hit by a truck,” Tony was rubbing his eyes profusely, desperately wanting the sleep to remove itself from his weary features. The doctor had perked a brow at the last sentence but quickly decided what he wanted to do next.

“Peter, I’m going to lift your shirt,” he informed, not meaning to ignore Tony but just needing to get straight to work with the triage. “Actually, could you lift it Tony? I don’t want… my hands to make this any worse than it’s going to be if he’s touch sensitive.”

Tony was quick to comply, hating the few seconds it had taken as Peter’s face scrunched into an anguished grimace at the feeling and his whimpering turned into ragged sobs. The raised, blotchy red rash across his side was clear as day. It looked like a nerve branching across his chest, angry looking blisters scattered throughout it’s hostile takeover of his pale, clammy skin. Dashing footsteps from the hall alerted the trio that more medical personnel had arrived in the form of Bruce Banner and Helen Cho.

“I think it’s shingles. We’re going to need a gurney,” Stephen called out briskly, not wanting to waste any time. A rash meant it was potentially already a few days into the virus taking hold so precious time had been wasted for optimum effectiveness of the antivirals. The doctors skidded to a halt, well aware a gurney would be just seconds behind them courtesy of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s assistance. “Fever, malaise, hyperesthesia, vesicular rash spreading from left flank.”

If Tony thought it had been unbearable watching Peter be transported onto the gurney and swiftly taken to the medbay. Then it had been an absolute living nightmare to see him be poked and prodded, IV needing to be in place to provide the fluids his body needed and the administration of pain medication that would help dull down his senses and hopefully allow him to rest. Bruce had tried to keep him at arms length to give the medical personnel the space they needed but that had lasted mere seconds.

Peter's body was stiff and twitching involuntarily, his back arched awkwardly as he writhed in brutal agony. The teen's face was contorted in pain, eyes slammed shut and mouth slightly open as he took gasping breaths laced with cries and incoherent mutterings of pleads for help. Hot, uncontrollable tears streamed down the side of his face and God did Tony want to wipe them away but he knew even the faintest of touches had felt like chemical burns to the kid.

The morphine was due to take effect at any moment, but until then Tony felt like a useless entity within the room. Peter's hands gripped onto the sheets and tore them instantly. There was a risk that the IV was going to be yanked out if the flailing didn’t stop.

"Dad… Dad…" Peter bawled, no longer capable of riding out the searing pain in solitude. Tony short circuited. The room froze. "Dad!" the teen again screamed when there had been no response despite the multiple blurred forms within the room seeming to hear him.

Fuck this. Tony had pushed past Bruce, not enough to harm him in any way, just enough to give him the space to get to his kid’s side. One hand was placed on the mattress of the bed and the other eagerly wanting to stroke the boy’s head but sitting next to the pillow instead.

“I’m here, kiddo. I’m here,” he assured as best as he could, voice on the edge of breaking.

In a move apparently out of his control, Peter’s hand lashed out and grabbed his mentor’s wrist. Quickly, the pads of his fingers dup deep into the flesh, unable to control his enhanced abilities whilst so delirious. The first crunch of bone had Tony biting down on his lip, desperately attempting to remain stoic for Peter’s sake. But then the bones grinded and he let out a pained gasp.

“Peter,” He managed as he deeply inhaled in an effort to sound as self-controlled as possible. The tight clasp started to loosen, as the teen’s movements slowed and his eyes looked almost vacant before they closed. Tony had taken a staggering step back once it had been clear, unsure if it was motivated by the searing pain of his now broken wrist or because there was the pressure of someone’s hand on his shoulder leading him away. He’d barely made it to the hallway still unsure who he was following when his knees buckled and the world around him became a bleak blur.

In his catatonic state, Tony wouldn’t remember the scans and treatment of the newly broken bone. His exhausted body would simply shut down and he’d fall asleep, itching to fend off the feelings of panic stricken shock and complete, unrivalled fear. When he did rouse, Bruce and Stephen had been there to let him know how his mentee was before informing him of the damage that had been inflicted. A broken wrist was nothing when he found out Peter was now on enough medication to allow a pain-free rest.

The first conscious memory Peter had in the fog of his slow awakening was the dry taste in his mouth and beginnings of nausea creeping up on him. Despite his body protesting he attempted a small movement, wincing as he did so. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as he slowly lifted his arm to rub his eyes before attempting to open them. When his sense of smell returned and the stench of harsh disinfectant and latex burned his nostrils hit,  his eyes opened far too quickly and far too widely.

The teen’s attention was quickly drawn to the presence to his left. Tony was slumped in a chair at such an incredibly awkward angle it was sure to cause neck ache when he woke up. A cast-clad wrist was loosely folded across his chest as the other arm seemed to loosely cradle it. Gentle snoring would usually be comforting for Peter, but his eyes kept drawing back to the cast with a dreaded sensation in the pit of his stomach that he had been the one to cause of it.

Peter moved again, hissing at how incredibly touch sensitive he seemed to be. It was as if he could feel every individual fibre of the bedding around him. Despite the noise being barely audible, Tony started to awaken. The older man had gone to move too sharply, clearly moving his sore arm too quickly and boy could Peter not take his eyes off of that cast.

“There’s my favourite young adult,” Tony greeted gently as he awkwardly shifted to pour a small jug of water into a cup, the casted hand barely keeping it in place. He did his utmost best to remain passive faced despite how tedious the task now felt to him and he could feel Peter’s hard pressed stare on him and the arm. Plopping a straw into the cup he brought it to the teen’s mouth. Peter had wanted to gulp it down the moment he felt the plastic touch his lips, swigging greedily as the water soothed his parched throat and mouth.

“How are you feeling, Pete?” Tony asked once he’d finished, placing the cup to the side. Lordy, did his kid look so small in the hospital bed.

“A little high,” Peter confessed after assessing himself and spotting the cannula in his hand. “A little sore… Mr. Stark…?”

“If you need any more painkillers than just let me know and I can get Cho. They’ve got you on the good stuff,” Tony was completely aware that sore was likely overriding the high feeling. Because he’d seen Peter high on pain medication before. It tended to involve a big goofy smile and eyes bug-eyed wide. There’d even been the occasional moments where he thought he could fly and would flap his wings whilst making whooshing sound effects.

“What happened?” Peter asked so innocently and child like, a reminder of the young hero’s age. Tony had to steel himself for the inevitable conversation that was about to go down. Because he knew what the kid was like. Knows that the kid can’t stop taking his eyes off the cast.

“You got a one way rare ticket to getting shingles. Not common for your age bracket and Spideyness but. We know what you’re like when it comes to contracting the weird and wonderfu-”

“I meant... what happened to your arm?” Tony looked down at it before meeting the teen’s eyes.

"Alright, so don't freak out on me. You did nothing wrong…" The older man began, quickly being interrupted by an even paler looking Peter.

"Oh God…"

"Ah-ah. Listen to me, Peter." Tony requested firmly, as he placed a hand over Peter’s and carefully gripped. He needed to show there was still respect and most importantly trust. Needed the boy to be grounded and to focus if this wasn’t about to turn into an emotional shit show. "Please."

There were tears welling in Peter’s eyes that he had no chance of fighting. Lacking the confidence in his own voice to not crack he simply nodded.

"You were off your face, quite literally, with a fever whilst a virus attacked your nerves. You were not in control. And it was an accident." His mentor’s voice was tender, sympathetic with just a touch of authority. His eyes were full of love and conviction that stunned Peter momentarily whilst he absorbed the information.

"I'm so sorry, Tony,” the teen rasped, barely holding himself together. The kindness he was being shown felt unwarranted and undeserving.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, buddy. I know exactly how you’re feeling. I know you’re playing the blame game right now because I’ve been there. I-I-Pepper was almost attacked by a suit because of my actions whilst I was asleep. It’s undeniable logic that I wasn’t even conscious so how was it my fault? But I let it eat away at me and she had to snap me out of that deep guilt-trip-well big time. I know you, Peter. I know you’d never hurt me. And nothing could hurt more than seeing you in pain and being utterly helpless to make it better.”

The stiffness in Peter’s hand finally released and his hand gently took hold of Tony’s thumb. The teen shifted into a seated position, his mentor standing as he did so before leaning over the bed and offering a hug. Peter accepted the embrace, the determination in the movement and lack of flinching from the older man serving only to affirm that he didn’t fear the boy.

“Alright, move over, Young Buck. Your old man can’t stay bent like this for too long.”

With his mentee shifted out of the way, Tony scooted onto the bed and raised an arm immediately. Peter showed just a hint of hesitance before snuggling in, an arm placed across Tony’s lap and his head on his chest.

“I don’t know what to say,” Peter admitted, the latter of the sentence slightly slurring as he started to drift off in the safety of his mentor’s arms.

“Get some rest, Peter. I’m sure you’ll make up for the lack of talking once we get back in the lab,” Tony mumbled before a thought crossed his mind. “In fact, you get to fill me in all about Tiddles once you’re up and ready. That tortoise is on thin fucking ice.”

The teen half smirked at the comment, though no words formulated as sleep took a hold. Deep breaths soon turned into soft snoring. The older man’s fingers slowed their movements before coming to a halt as he planted a tender kiss into the teen’s hair. As he started to feel himself succumb to exhaustion he requested that they only be disturbed if it was a mandatory check up or emergency.

“Love you, dad,” Peter whispered so softly it was barely audible. Even in his exhausted state, Tony’s chest filled with overwhelming joy and happiness.

“Love you too, buddy,” Tony replied with a content, sleepy smile on his face.

[infinitegalahad]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO (SNEAK PEAK)

Summary: Eugene was always there to let you that you were beautiful.

Warnings: PLEASE!! READ!!! Trigger warnings for eating disorder, insecurity, and lots of angst. But there is going be lots of fluff and some self care from your’s truly!

A/N: it’s time for self coping, my fitness. my eating disorder has been horrible lately and what better what to come then maladaptive daydreaming? not me writing a self insert for my bulimia and eugene roe comforting me because my ex-therapist told me to eat more (which totally solves all my problems)? ha! never. enjoy the little snippet! :D 

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes @ricksmorty @pennyllanne @capsparkyspeirs

Your stomach growled and twisted as you hunched over the toilet, tears spilling from your eyes as you forcefully threw up the mass amount of food you had just eaten. Every bite felt like you were eating copious amounts of a forbidden fruit. It was your favourite, and you used to love eating (y/f/f) all the time-but now, you would barely keep it down.

Soon after eating, the guilt began to overtake your body. It was hard to ignore it as the warm feeling in your throat began to rise. It felt tingly and you had only one remedy on how to make it better-running to the bathroom and sticking a finger down your throat: watching everything come out as deformed and clunky.

Saliva dropped from your noses as you began to wipe it as tears streamed down your flushed face. The pain wasn’t ending, and you knew another round was set to come.

When you're a little girl, you didn’t think much of your body or how you looked. Little girls, or no child for the matter should have had to worry about what they looked like. But as you got older, the social norms and your body began to change. Other girls around you were thin, while you felt indifferent. You were made fun of not looking “thin”, which triggered a whole set of emotions. And so you took comfort in food, since it was the only thing that never judged you.

And yet food would soon become your enemy. You learned how to befriend, and also stab it in the back. Your relationship with food has formed into a minute where you could tolerate them, and then the other you had to get it out of your system. After eating meals, it became a habit for you to do so. Some days, you could tolerate being around it. Others, you would barely see if for days-if not weeks.

Your thoughts were overtaken by a large gulp in your throat, which resulted in the food you had binged coming out. Tears came from your eyes as you cried. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just be normal and pretty? Why was life so unfair to you?

You are so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice the bathroom door creak open and footsteps slowly approach your hunched figure. The pattern of the footsteps was already too familiar to you. Goosebumps went up your spine as you refused to look at him, embarrassed and guilted. Eugene was the last person you wanted to discover your monstrosity.

“Hey…” You managed to say, attempting to sound put together, which was the total opposite of what you currently where.

Eugene sunk down to your level and placed a hand on your back, rubbing small circles. Tears began to form at your eyes as you looked down, feeling it come again. Eugene grabbed your hair as you threw up, letting out a pained moan.

“I’m here, you’re okay,” Eugene cooed, letting you finish up. His soft accent was reassuring to you, but your heart rate increased. “Did it happen again?”

“Nothing is happening. I’m fine.” You lied, but knew that it was a shit lie and that Eugene was smart enough to see. He was your boyfriend and knew you better than anybody else did in the world-besides you.

“You’re not fine. Don’t lie to me, cher.”

You slowly move your head up to look at him. Eugene looks tired, and so do you. Your eyes are puffy from crying, cheeks red, lips quivering, goosebumps all over your skin, heavy breathing- a total mess. A pig is what you would refer to yourself as. The outfit you had worn today was too tight forming and showed off the parts of your body that you wanted the world not to see. You looked like a ugly rat in your eyes, the vision of a disfigured body clouding your vision.

Instead of using your words, you break down once again. Eugene is there to watch you, pulling you into him as you sob uncontrollably. You act like a child to its mother, clasping into Eugene for dear life as you stain his white shirt with tears. He doesn’t mind this since he loves you, and you know that. But how could he, someone so beautiful on the inside and out, be with someone like you-a slob? Eugene didn’t see you as any of the things you would describe yourself as, and you still couldn’t understand why he has chosen to stick around for four years (and counting).

“I’m sorry,” Is all you could cough through your tears. Eugene is running his hands up and down back, his fingers occasionally getting tangled in your hair as he straightens it out. He pulls you from his chest as he cups your face, tenderly pushing your loose hair behind your shoulders to get a better view of your pretty face.

Eugene caresses your cheeks, getting a feel of your soft (y/s/c). “No need to be. Jus’ wanna make sure your ok.”

“I’m not. I…” Letting out a frustrated sigh, the waterworks come back into play. Eugene, being the angel he is, stays quiet as his thumbs wipe the tears away. Gathering your words, you continue on, “I never have been. Look at me, I can’t control it. I don’t know what to do. I-“

“Hey, hey, hey. Your heart’s racin’, settle down.” Eugene reassured in a calming voice not to shut you up, but to calm you. Your skin is shaky and sweaty and your heart is banging against your ribcage. Eugene feels the guilt tug at his heart-he hates to see you in such a distressed state. “Let me help you. Here,”

Eugene slides his arms under your armpits and gently helps your up. Leading you to the living room, he places you on the couch as he runs to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water. He drops it out and pats you on the head before running back to the kitchen. You don’t want to drink, but Eugene would have a hissy fit if you didn’t. Reluctantly, you take a sip and swish it in your mouth before slowly gulping it.

Eugene returns a minute later with a cup of tea in his hand. He places in on the counter, putting a coaster under. Looking down, you can smell the sweetness. It’s your favourite; an orange spice with a dab of honey.

“Drink up ‘dat wata’ before you drink the tea. You’ll fell more refreshed after, and the tea will help with the dryness in your throat,” Eugene explained. He admired you as he placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing circles into them. As you drank your water, you forced a smile and put your hand on top of yours.

“Angé, I’m worried ‘bout you,” Eugene confessed, “You look sad, and when you’re sad-I’m sad.”

“Genie, please,” Is all you could mutter to say. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been dealing with this all my life. It’ll go away in a few hours, and I’ll be all smiles again. I promise.”

Eugene still feels guilty. He’s been around sister’s, older and younger to know what your problem is. The vomiting, the excuses, the insecurity, everything was adding up. What had saddened Eugene is that it was a lifelong issue, and it had gone untreated, and had progressively gotten worse.

“I don’t need you to force yourself to be happy. I want to help you ‘cause I love you, ma douce beauté.”

“But-“

Eugene placed a sweet kiss into your hair, “No. You stay ‘ere, docter’s orders. I’ll be right back.”

“Eugene-“

As he began to walk away, he turned around with a smile and pointed fingers. “What did I say?”

You put a finger down in defeat as you laid back, sipping on your tea. Hearing his footsteps fade into the bathroom and the water running, the tension from your shoulders disappeared as the sweet honey in the tea eased the frustration in your body. Doctor's orders, after all.

[seokmingiggles]

a confirmation.

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x female reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, kind of a college!au?

1.78k words

No warnings.

After a long day for both of you at the end of the winter semester, the last thing you want is to be kept awake by your restless feline. Alternatively, where Jihoon is sleepy and pouty, but still loves you and the cat.

A/N: This one is loosely based on true events from my night last night/early this morning. My cat kept me awake for many hours, so I barely managed to sleep. However, I certainly didn’t have a sleepy and pouty Jihoon to keep me company. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

•• I love my girlfriend, I love my girlfriend, I love my gi-

Jihoon repeated the mantra over and over in his head. He didn't have to convince himself that he was head-over-heels in love with you (despite not always being the best at showing his affection), but it was your cat on the other side of the closed bedroom door which made him furrow his eyebrows in the—what was once peaceful—darkened room.

I love my girlfriend's cat, I love my girlfriend's cat.

But little Yuna would not seem to shut up.

Jihoon had had a long, busy and tiring day earlier, and was absolutely ready to curl up in bed with his beautiful partner at the end of the day. You were likewise also exhausted from the copious amounts of studying and preparing for your exams recently, the final one completed just earlier this afternoon. You were more than ready for some time off from school and longing to spend your break in your boyfriend's arms as his schedule also thinned out for the holidays.

It was relieving for your head to hit the pillow when you climbed into bed a few hours ago. Jihoon was already waiting for you which was an uncommon occurrence. He looked just as tired as you felt, beckoning you into his chest with open arms. You gladly complied.

"(Y/N)..." Jihoon muttered softly, nervous to wake you up.

You didn't so much as stir from your slumber.

The boy tried again, this time a little bit louder, "(Y/N)-ie? (Y/N)."

You hummed, still half-asleep and disoriented.

"Please, (Y/N), why does your cat insist now is a good time to begin screaming at the door?"

"She's our cat, you know. We picked her together," you replied, rubbing your eyes lightly as your consciousness crept in.

"She likes you more, though," the boy pouted in the darkness, "you're her favourite."

You sighed as you removed the blanket encasing you in comfortable, cozy warmth; your bare feet hitting the cool wood panels made you regret your decision instantly.

"I don't know why you couldn't have let her in if you were already awake, Ji," you pouted back at your boyfriend despite how he wasn't able to see your face in the dark as you waddled your way to the door.

Upon opening it, little Yuna, a fluffy brown and white lady, perked up from her previous position of being sprawled out on the floor and trying to fit her paws beneath the door to somehow open it herself.

"Let's go, fluffy," you ushered the cat to follow you back into Jihoon's waiting warmth.

Yet, Yuna instead began to groom herself, not caring about you or the plush bed where you invited her to rest.

You let out a sigh and made your way back to the mattress by yourself; fruitless were your efforts as the cat remained in the doorway.

"Remind me again why we thought getting a cat was a good idea?" Jihoon rhetorically asked, already knowing your answer.

"Yuna is a sweetheart!" Your answer was instant despite Yuna's uncompliant actions only moments ago. "We both liked her in the shelter. She'd already been vaccinated and spayed, and most importantly, she's adorable!" You pondered, continuing, "Some would even argue that she's cuter than you."

"Oh?" Jihoon felt a smile form on his face rather than the sulking expression he bore earlier from being so rudely awoken. "She can be cuter than me, I'm fine with that, but she's definitely not cuter than you. She can, however, be noisier than you. Especially at two in the morning."

And at two in the morning, after some giggling and shifting in each other's embrace until you were once again comfy, the two of you managed to fall back asleep. Yuna, after she possibly overheard Jihoon's complaint, managed to quiet down after you left your bedroom door ajar for her to come and go as she pleased.

That was until she had a sudden burst of energy only a few hours later. Jihoon was yet again the one to be disturbed from his precious slumber first, now feeling bad about nudging your shoulder to keep him company as he listened to the sound of Yuna scampering around the kitchen.

"Why?" the groggy boy's words were muffled by the crook of your neck where he buried his face in after you stirred. "Why tonight? Why can't she just be quiet for tonight?"

"That's not how cats work, Ji," you brought your hand to the side of Jihoon's face, stroking his temple lovingly. "Do you want me to go and hide all her toys? That may get her to stop for long enough for us to get some decent sleep."

"No, no," he began to sit up, "I'll deal with her, you got up last time. I need some water anyway." Jihoon placed a delicate kiss on your cheek before he stood up and exited the room, the gesture relaxing you almost enough to fall back asleep then and there.

"Why are you so noisy tonight, young lady? Hm?"

You heard your boyfriend's small voice from the kitchen as he spoke to Yuna. The feline gave a meow in response to his question, seemingly excited that someone else was awake at this hour.

Even though Jihoon made it a mission to act like he wasn't nearly as fond of Yuna as you so unabashedly were, you knew she had him wrapped around her paw.

The padding of Jihoon's footsteps approaching made you look up to the door, only to find him holding Yuna like he was offering you a gift. He gently placed the cat on the foot of the bed before crawling back to your side below the covers, sighing as his head hit the pillow once more.

Yuna carefully worked her way up the bed, softly purring from being held by Jihoon (which was a rare occurrence).

She found herself between your faces, sniffing the boy's brow-bone before butting her head against his.

"See, she likes you too," you grinned, beginning to pet the cat who was kneading into the duvet brought up to Jihoon's chin. "Maybe she just needs some confirmation every once in a while that you care about her."

Jihoon removed his arms from beneath the blanket to feel Yuna's soft coat. "That sounds like someone else I know."

You murmured, "Some confirmation is nice."

You didn't bother to check the time, but you were now able to see the silhouette of your boyfriend's face in the slowly rising light from the adjacent window.

"I love you, (Y/N). Much more than I show it," Jihoon paused. "I know I'm not the best at showing affection. I want to be better at it, but please, know that I do love you. You complete me. We have an apartment together; we have a cat together. I wouldn't do either of those with anyone unless I loved them unconditionally. Like how I love you."

Your eyes remained on Jihoon's face until his gaze finally met yours. You took ahold of his hand and tenderly grazed your thumb across his knuckles.

"Thank you. I love you too, Ji. You complete me."

The boy brought your intertwined hands to his mouth, placing the most gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

If there was more light in the room, you swear you'd be able to see pink dusting his cheeks at the gesture.

"Would you look at that; I think Yuna's finally calm down," Jihoon changed the subject out of courtesy to his burning face. "What time is it?"

You reluctantly removed your hand from his to roll over and check your phone. You blinked a couple of times at the numbers on the screen, about to speak when the noise of your alarm interrupted and answered the question for you.

An annoyed groan erupted from your throat as you placed your phone back on the nightstand. "It feels like we haven't gotten any sleep tonight."

"Well, it won't be the first time that's happened."

Now you were the one sporting the blush, knowing instantly about the night your boyfriend alluded to.

"You're cute when you're flustered, (Y/N)-ie. Come on, lay back down with me and Yuna." Jihoon grazed his fingers over the sleeping cat in between your bodies.

"I've never been happier to have finished my exams," you whispered, not wanting to disturb the sleeping pile of fluff. "There's no way I could be productive later with this much lack of sleep."

Jihoon hummed in agreement and finished your thought, "Let's spend the rest of the day in bed."

You carefully moved as close as you could to the boy with the cat in the way. Your legs found his beneath the blanket, "Goodnight, Ji."

"Goodnight, (Y/N). Sweet dreams, my love."

•

You found yourself waking to the smell of coffee and toast from the kitchen. The culprit was humming to himself, a gentle sound you barely heard over the sizzling of a pan.

"Oh! Good morning, (Y/N)-ie," Jihoon briefly stopped his work over the stove to kiss you upon your arrival, your face slightly puffy with sleep.

"What's all this?" You motioned to the pan with the golden bread.

Jihoon turned back to the stovetop as he spoke, "Well, I was thinking more about what you said last night, or this morning I suppose, about me giving you more confirmations, as you put it. It made me want to make you breakfast, despite it being past noon now. Here, this one's ready if you want to grab a plate," the boy slid the bread onto the dish you presented. "I hope it's okay. It's been a while since I last made French toast."

"I'm sure it tastes as good as it smells, Ji," you thanked him, putting the plate down on the counter to give your boyfriend a hug from behind as he continued cooking another slice for himself, although he stopped his movements as your arms held him close.

Jihoon beamed at your embrace, not being able to diminish the smile that broke across his features. Although he admittedly didn't get the best rest last night, he still wouldn't change a thing. You two didn't always get time to enjoy each other's company with differing schedules, especially during the semester, but last night really was a confirmation for Jihoon that he was in the right place; that all his past decisions leading up to this moment were worthwhile.

After all, he had a beautiful partner to come home to at the end of the day, and—as you would argue to be even more important—a really cute cat.

Other than a proper night’s sleep, what more could he ask for?

••

[juniorgman187]

Serpent of Eden (Reid Series - Part 3)

~ Reader’s one-night-stand with Spencer turns into a year long semester ~

Summary: After a month of smooth sailing, Reader and Spencer finally cross paths on campus and spoiler alert - it’s not pretty. Couple: Fem!Reader x Professor Spencer Reid Category: Angst, Fluff, (eventual) Smut, Series Word Count: 1.7 (ik i promised no small chapters but this ones slightly more spicy and its in preparation for better, longer chapters) Content Warning: Age-gap, teacher student relationship A/N: POV switches from Reader to Spencer indicated by “_ _ _”

PART 2 HERE!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

It was easy to maintain a romantic relationship and to believe that everything was alright when we never had to see each other at school.

What’s harder was being in a professional setting and forcing ourselves to confront the reality that what we were doing was wrong. 

Just plain wrong.

We must’ve lucked out in the first few weeks of our relationship because it was smooth sailing for the entire first month. We’d even gotten into a routine - found our groove, if you will. 

Most often, we would meet at a place far from Hollis, where we knew we wouldn’t run into anyone who would recognize us. There we could just be (y/n) and Spencer; and there I would get lost in the good times and the bliss of the moment to the point of forgetting that we weren’t just (y/n) and Spencer - we were student and teacher, too. Other times, I’d come over to his apartment, but given my living situation, he had never come over to mine. 

It was somewhere around our one-month anniversary when our luck ran out. 

Holly had come into the room while I was finishing (or at least attempting to finish) reading a court case. 

“Are you going to the Promotional FBI Seminar?” She slid a large pamphlet on my desk, never minding the fact that she’d just haphazardly thrown the pamphlet in the spot where my book lied, causing me to lose my place on the page. Though I didn’t outwardly display my frustration, my agitation did grow beneath the surface. 

“What’s that?” I asked her, not out of sincere curiosity, but more so because I wasn’t even really listening to what she’d said before, and I’d pushed the pamphlet out of the way before I even read it. 

“A couple guys from the FBI are coming to talk to us about the job, like all the requirements to be hired, how much it pays - stuff like that.” 

Holly’s voice didn’t make for great background noise, especially when she started rambling while I tried to continue reading. 

“Are you going?” I asked. Again, this wasn’t a sincere question, just a way to make it seem like I was listening. 

“Yeah, and I really want you to come with me. I think you’d like it. You’re really into crime stuff, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, yeah…” I said in a daze, obviously distracted by my other priorities.

“So you’ll come?”

I should note that I faintly recognized the name and premise of the seminar, but I couldn’t quite place where I remembered it from, and I was far too preoccupied to pay any further attention to the topic, so it slipped out of my mind almost as fast as it entered it. 

It was this moment here where Spencer’s eidetic memory would’ve come in handy. 

You see, the reason I weakly recalled the seminar was because just three days ago, Spencer had told me he was going to be a guest speaker for it. But again - I didn’t remember that, and so without any recollection of this information, I told Holly I’d go just so she’d stop bothering me about it. 

Unbeknownst to me, I’d just agreed to attending my own personal hell. 

I woke the next morning to Holly violently shaking me. 

“(Y/n), we gotta go! We’re so fucking late!”

Still half-asleep, I mumbled, “Huh?”

“The seminar started at 9:42 and it’s 10:36 right now.” 

This was enough to jolt me awake and get me out of bed.

There was just something about the pressure of being late that forced me into a mode where I could get ready in an ungodly short amount of time. I could never get ready that fast unless I was late for something, which makes no sense. 

Holly and I ran from our dorm, through the courtyard, and into the classroom, somehow managing not to trip once on the way there. I was actually quite proud of that. 

I couldn’t tell you if it was our breathlessness, our late departure, our struggle to find open seats, or a combination of the three, but we’d commanded the attention of the entire room - and the attention of someone I had yet to notice, too. 

“There’s a free seat over there. I can sit in the one over here.” Holly told me, suggesting that if we wanted to sit anywhere, we’d have to be separated. I followed her finger to the empty seat, shuffling awkwardly and apologizing profusely to the people I disturbed by approaching. I was so caught up in the hysteria and chaos to even bother looking up at the stage, hindering my ability to meet my impending doom any sooner. 

On the way to my seat, I noticed the copious amounts of notes being taken by virtually every student in the room, so rather than taking any time to look up, I was searching my bag down below me for note taking materials. 

But as they say - third time's a charm. 

After I’d settled into my seat, I finally looked up from the floor and it was then that I was transported back to a month ago - an eerie parallel to this exact moment. 

“Holy shit,” I muttered, earning sneers from the people sitting next to me who I’d clearly disrupted with my profanity. 

“Sorry,” I whispered to them, for I was truly sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. When I saw him, my stomach dropped. I had a feeling he’d already seen me, but I was too disorderly before to notice. 

I did, however, notice how he eyed me from the stage, even doing a double take when we locked eyes. 

“Most of us have done extensive work in areas such as …” His voice faded while my mind swirled.

We have got to stop meeting like this, Spencer. 

Our eye contact was too much for me to handle, so I was the first to break away. Through the entire question-period, I kept my head down to avoid any eye contact I could. 

“Well, that’s all that we have for you today. Before you go, please hand in your applications if you filled them out.” The other lecturer advised. 

I was well on my way out of the room even before he dismissed us, but I was drawn back by the sound of the sentence, “Excuse me, Miss? Could you stay back for a moment?”

I briefly walked backwards before turning on my heels and meeting those eyes that I desperately didn’t want to. 

“I noticed you came in late and I thought you might want to know the information you missed -” Spencer paused to look over his shoulder, noticing his colleague was attending to someone else and therefore, too engaged in that conversation to interfere with ours. 

“(Y/n), what are you doing here?” He asked me in a hushed tone, a stark contrast from his sweet tone from before. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I completely forgot that you were a speaker for this seminar. I didn’t even know I was coming until last night when my roommate asked me to come with her. I would’ve warned you if I knew. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in this position.” 

My apology was sincere seeing as I promised Spencer we would never run into each other. In fact, it was the sole reason we agreed to stay in this relationship - the mutual guarantee that we wouldn’t be put in these situations, but here we were. 

In this fucking situation. 

“No, it’s fine. I was just surprised to see you, that’s all.”

Spencer could tell I was flustered and truly apologetic for my ignorance, and he was almost about to reach out and rub my upper arm comfortingly when his actions were cut short by the looming presence of his fellow guest speaker. 

“Hi there. David Rossi.” He introduced himself by extending his hand into the space between us. “And you are?” 

“(Y/n) (y/l/n).” 

_ _ _

“(Y/n) (y/l/n).” 

It was like watching my worst nightmare come alive. 

If I ever imagined introducing (y/n) to my work family, this certainly wasn’t the plan. I just hoped to God that if Rossi and (y/n) ever met again in the future, he wouldn’t suddenly obtain my eidetic memory and recall her familiar face from this exact moment. 

“Got any questions for us?” Rossi coyly asked her. Once more I prayed to God that his profiling skills hadn’t just improved drastically and that he could sense the tension between the two of us. It almost seemed like he asked that question just to tease her because he knew what was really happening. But then again, that was probably just my paranoia speaking. 

She looked mortified when he asked this, even glancing back at me briefly as if to ask for a reprieve. “Um, no not really. I-I was just telling Dr. Reid that I’ve applied to audit his class before, but was always rejected.”

“That’s a shame. Well, maybe I can look into that. You know, put in a good word for you.” Rossi chuckled, nudging (y/n)’s shoulder to suggest he’d help her. She only shyly laughed and took a step closer to the door. 

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that for me.” 

“Nonsense. I’d be happy to do it.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Rossi.” With a thankful smile, (y/n) pranced out the door, closing the lecture hall door sharply behind her without one look back. 

“Nice girl,” Rossi acknowledged. “But it would be nicer if she could be on time.” 

I laughed, despite not finding (y/n) to be at the butt of the joke to be funny at all. 

“Um, are you actually gonna put in a good word for her?” I followed Rossi with my eyes, searching his face with a desperate hope that my question didn’t reveal too much. 

“Yeah, why not? I figured you would’ve liked to have another student audit your class.” 

“Yeah yeah…” I murmured in false agreement. 

Herein lies the trouble.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

PART 4 COMING SOON!

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