#on second thought maybe he won't get another angst fic

[merakiui]

Okay speaking of magical girls.... Evil villain tako that has a crush on the cute magical girl at NRC but he doesnt know shes the magical girl that's trying to thwart his evil plan of taking over sage's island mwhaha

YES YES YES. And every week he gets his ass handed to him. You're determined to keep Sage's Island safe!!!! He's trying to get to know you through the fights. The (one-sided) sexual/romantic tension is too much. Tako who flirts at every chance during your fights... you genuinely want to take him out (defeat him), but he wants to take you out (on a date). And it's so obvious he's down bad for you, but you have no idea he's Azul Ashengrotto (your fellow classmate) and he has no idea of your identity either. Azul's trying to balance his love for the magical girl he fights on weekends and his darling classmate who he sees during the week hehe. How fortuitous that they are the same person.

Please imagine that trope where the villain ensnares the hero in tentacles, but it ends up looking more erotic than threatening....... orz evil villain tako whose tentacle is holding you upside down by the ankle and he's monologuing about how he'll take over the island and you'll get to watch, powerless against him. But then he looks at you and your skirt has flipped up and he's granted a gratuitous panty shot!!!!!!! Tako who gets a nosebleed on the spot. He's such a loser pervert. <3

Omg omg or you're squirming in the tentacles and ranting about how you'll get him for this, but Azul's trying so hard not to give into the horny thoughts because the way the tentacles are looped around you and squeezing is so attractive to him.

Like that one scene where Stocking's fighting the octopus ghost LOL.

[chugging-bleach]

"SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO." - the 4 times you almost met jason and the one time you did.

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✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅

summary. you regret not speaking to jason todd in high school. then, another masked vigilante by the name of red hood seems to make all your regrets dissolve.

tags. fluff, light angst, slight hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual happy ending

a/n. this idea came from a jason todd x <y/n> fic i am in the process of writing (if you would like to know when it comes out, follow or check out my ao3). i hope you enjoy reading this <3 feel free to request anything you would like to see me write.

the first time.

gotham high, located at the heart of crime alley, was for lack of a better word shitty. you hated studying, you never got along with anyone and prayed that the time went by fast. the only thing that made you keep going back to high school was staring at that handsome boy with bright blue eyes and ratty black hair who sat a seat ahead of you. how he made it to first place each year was a mystery to you since he was constantly skipping class.

what kept you going was looking forward to that one day he would attend class and then you could stare at the back of his head to make the time go by faster. one day you knew that you would want to freeze this moment and make it last forever, but for now, staring will do. not like jason would care and catch you looking.

then one day he completely stopped showing up. you thought he would come back. but then you graduated. without him ever returning. you hated yourself for never trying to talk to him. you should have spoken to him rather than staring holes into him. actually, staring at him must have been super creepy. were you the reason why he stopped coming to school? creeped out by the girl who bore holes into him, just staring and staring? regardless of the real reason, you know that you would always regret not talking to him. not being able to thank him for making school a little better.

the second time.

as was routine for gothamites, you get saved from some large attack from some big shot criminal at the hands of batman and robin. you were a bit upset at being saved since you really wouldn't mind dying at the hands of a rouge robber. you had nothing to look forward to. there wasn't enough money to go to university. bills piled up no matter how many jobs you worked.

you snap out of your thoughts when robin puts a shock blanket around you and instead of being grateful, you throw it on the floor. you remember that you have to get back to work otherwise you'll be behind on rent again.

"where are you going?" batman placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

"work," you simply say.

"stay put for a while. we need to make sure you're alright."

"well, i won't be alright if i don't work and miss rent. again."

you just talked back to the batman. maybe he will kill you and then you might die quicker than working yourself to death.

"let me handle this one," and then robin is making you sit down next to him. you were trying to avoid robin knowing that you will project your regret on to him. the regret of never being able to talk to jason since both jason and robin have eerily similar features. work is just an excuse. you need to leave.

"please. i won't make rent. let me go."

"mad respect talking to him like that. but, you inhaled some poison gas. take the antidote. then you can go back."

"give it to the others here. i don't give a fuck."

you know you shouldn't be this angry. but you are this angry. at yourself. and robin has made that anger surface.

"how about i give you something to look forward to? then you'll stay for the antidote?"

"the person i looked forward to seeing disappeared before i could talk to him," you say before you can stop yourself. you feel ridiculous admitting it, that just staring at some random boy gave you hope. but it did. and now that boy wasn't there anymore.

"that dumbass didn't know how lucky he was."

you shook your head. "he truly is lucky. he was adopted by bruce wayne. i just... he made school less shitty even though he doesn't even know who i am and before i could thank him he was gone. it's stupid, i know, but i just wanted to say thank you to him. like, thank you, jason. that's it. and i'll never get to say it."

robin puts the shock blanket around you again. he was silent. "i'm sorry for saying all that. but now that i said it, i'll thank you instead of him." you turned and stared at robin's eye mask, imagining it was jason. it wasn't that difficult, considering they both had the same bright blue eyes and ratty black hair.

"thank you, jason for not getting creeped out by all my staring." you feel much lighter. maybe you just had to talk to someone. robin rises from your side.

"i'm sure that dumbass heard your thanks, though i'm sure he doesn't deserve any of it."

third time.

life at gotham, heart of wacky and dangerous criminals, was for lack of a better word still shitty. you never saved up nearly enough to go to university but managed to get a decent-ish job at three diners which paid nearly enough for being located in gotham.

you were wiping down table tops and listening to the news playing the death anniversary of jason todd, bruce wayne’s adopted son. it was tragic to die that young. and you were surprised the news didn't leave you as heartbroken as you had thought it would.

you continued wiping down the counters, when for the third time today, thugs burst in and demanded to be served. as per policy, you served anyone especially the dangerous sort. before you could get menus for them and think of how to explain to the next diner that yes, thugs broke in after her shift ended yet again, a person wearing a red helmet/mask comes inside, drags the thugs outside with a "not so fast," and that's that. your shift's over. instead of missing the next job, you will be arriving late, which won't be that difficult to explain.

you finish tidying up and leave.

the strange man with the red helmet has tied up the thugs and left them at the side of the pavement. he is ready to leave on his motorcycle. you make a move to leave, accustomed to strange costumed people taking care of thugs like this.

"for all that trouble, want a ride?" you think being kidnapped won't be too bad. not like you have anything to look forward to.

"sure."

just as quickly as he had tied those thugs up without fanfare, you were sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his waist. you whispered the directions of the place adding, "didn't know this was part of the whole hero thing. giving people free lifts to places."

"you would be surprised how much money i burn on gas for these free lifts."

he drove way too fast. you tightened your hold on him, afraid you were gonna fly off. any conversation was impossible with the loud noise of the engine. but it felt freeing to go this recklessly fast.

"wonder who you need to see here."

oh no. you gave the wrong directions. you were not planning to do this. damn the news for reminding you. you promised last year was the last time you would do this.

before you can stop yourself, you're crying. you were heartbroken after all. "i don't know why i do this to myself each year. he never even knew me," you choke out. you had gotten off the bike at some point, expecting this person to leave.

"if it gives you peace to visit this person, you should. besides this punk is lucky to have you visit him."

ignoring the sense of deja vu you were getting, you shook your head. "jason was anything but lucky. he died so young. i never knew him. i wish i knew him better." he lended you his shoulder to cry on. you had more regrets than you had previously thought. "he did not deserve to die young."

your tears sat on top of his leather jacket and you moved to wipe them away with your napkin. instead, he stops you, wiping your tears away with the pads of his gloved fingers.

"he seriously is a lucky boy to have you visit and cry for him"

fourth time.

you were saving up money to move out of this shithole. nothing was tying you down to this place and there were new vigilantes and new villains rising everyday. none of the other cities were safe, but you had heard they offered better jobs and more affordable bills. less leaky ceilings. you never went to college so jobs still were a little difficult to get, but otherwise, you would be paid more as a server at anyother city, except gotham. if not working for wayne enterprises, jobs were a struggle in gotham. life was a struggle. you remarked upon how you made it this far.

then, someone broke through your window.

the first thought - for fuck's sake, who was gonna pay for it?

second - oh it's red hood, he will pay for it.

this is not the first time a vigilante crashed through your window. being a gothamite sucks.

you brushed the pieces of glass away from his leather jacket and surveyed him for damage. he did not seem hurt. only mildly annoyed. the red helmet wouldn't be enough to conceal his reaction from her.

"coffee as per usual? along with the window repairs and cleanup?"

you swear he is frowning under that helmet. not at you, but at the person who threw him. you don't wait for his answer, already preparing his coffee.

"help me up?"

"what? are your legs broken?"

"they are if you will carry me."

"red, combining you and the rest of your little clique this is the tenth time my window has been broken. sixth time by you, alone."

the person you met on jason todd's death anniversary was red hood. he was an anti-batman vigilante and you couldn't have given two shits. except, red made you give two shits. after that first day at the diner, he kept coming back to pick up food during your shifts. when the diner inevitably burned down, he came to the other diner you started working at. then it was crashing through your apartment window. then it was crashing with robin through your apartment window.

you were overjoyed when he came, but it was best you push him away before he got too close, and up and disappeared like jason had. looking forward to things like this was a curse.

"hope i make it to a seventh. seventh times the charm."

"charm for what?" you say, slamming the mug in front of him, with a little more force than you wanted to.

"for my charm to work on you." he winked and took a sip from the cup. his other hand rested on top of yours and your heart wrenched in your chest. you really wanted to know red hood better. you wanted him to keep crashing through your window instead of entering through the front door. but then he would die during patrol and you would have nothing more to look forward to. again. you carefully free your hand from his, ignoring his puzzled expression and the dejection you feel separating from him.

you have to stop this. "listen, you shouldn't see me anymore."

"why?

"i don't...don't need you to disappear too. jason disappearing was horrible and he wasn't safe with the most powerful billionaire in gotham. you break in through people's windows. what if next time you break something? like your spine or..."

you expect red hood to laugh at you. you were a minuscule, microscopic part of jason's life. he shouldn't be this huge a part of your life. if he were alive, you knew the regret wouldn't eat you up inside. but he wasn't alive. you couldn't hold that moment as a happy memory of a stupid thing you did in high school.

"all i'm hearing is, breaking your window is fine but not my bones. i guess that's doable."

you smack him, knowing that it wouldn't even hurt. "i'm serious. besides, once i have enough money, i will be moving out of gotham. don't come here. please." you were miles away from moving out. you knew red hood knew that.

you did this to save yourself the hurt and regret, but as you saw him leave from the front door, you knew you caused yourself more hurt and regret than last time. jason was far away from the beginning. you had chances to get to know red hood better. used to have chances.

jason was dead. red hood was right in front of your eyes and interested to keep seeing you. you had messed up.

he would never come back.

the last time.

instead of wallowing in your heartbreak, it was time to give back to the community you grew up in. moving out was an impossible dream you gave up on. instead, you got more involved in elder homes and joined their knitting circles.

it had been a month since red hood was gone. you couldn't believe it had been an entire year since you saw him, on jason's death anniversary of all days. yes, you couldn't help but regret that you made another mistake. red hood knew about you and wanted to know you better, to the point where he broke into your house.

like clockwork, you went to go see jason's grave, finding out that the grave wasn't there anymore. it wouldn't be there anymore at the request of the wayne family.

you cried outside the gates of the cemetery, knowing that this wasn't where he was laid to rest. jason's real body was in wayne manor, not here. this was for the public.

with red hood gone, you had nothing left to look forward to. you were a dumbass.

"need a ride?" you thought you were hallucinating. you looked up with teary eyes and confirmed it was the red hood. except, his helmet was off. you stared at him, dumbfounded. he had dishevelled black hair and bright, blue eyes. you sniffled, letting him drag you to your feet. you shook your head.

"jason's grave isn't here."

you were clutching the flowers in your hands. the red hood took them from you and bowed, pink flushing his cheeks.

"yes, that's 'cause i'm here. thanks for the flowers."

you gaped at him. "you're jason? you mean your name is jason too?"

guess it checks out. red hood knew about your strange connection to jason todd so he didn't tell you his real name. he chuckled, pulling you close, pressing a gentle kiss on each of your glistening cheeks. if you weren't shocked, you probably would be ecstatic about this development.

"it's time you learnt more about jason todd rather than staring and let me learn about you, <y/n>. i have been looking forward to learning more about you."

//bonus//

jason had no idea about before the diner incident. he remembered the (y/n) from when he was robin, once they arrived at the cemetery. but, he didn’t remember anything from high school as he barely attended. then, his crush on (y/n) was born.

the batsiblings were tired of seeing jason delay his confession, so they threw him through the window. once jason took tim with him. this totalled the count - three times tim as casualty, one time jason and tim, six times jason. all the costs were billed to bruce wayne as 'civilian casualties' code for ‘of course we broke through the window. it’s the batmove to pick up chicks.'

[camficdiner]

Hii! Can I request 1.5 (with the older reader trope), 2.18, 3.1 (maybe some angst as well), 4.3. We know Will isn't overly physical on the ice, but reader and Will just made their relationship public, and a player from the other team finds her hot. Well tensions rise during the game and a player is not chirping Will, this dude is taunting him about how he's gonna steal her right out from under Will and the dude says "there won't be a thing you can do to stop it Smith" and he fights the guy. Please and thank you!

☕️Cams fic diner — order 094

🍒 thank you: to the girlies who want loyalty that burns. ice fights. clenched jaws. someone who gets mad because they care. this one’s yours.

💬 “Worth Every Penalty Minute”

✨ description & prompts:

character: Will Smith

prompt: he gets into a fight on the ice and finds you waiting in the tunnel — furious, and scared

type: pure fluff, angst, comforting tension

wc ~1.4k

🍒🧁🛼✨

You saw it happen before it even started.

Will was on the second line tonight — not a big shift, not a huge crowd, just another regular season game. But you’d come anyway. Sat two rows behind the bench, tucked beside one of the girlfriends, jacket zipped to your chin even though the arena wasn’t that cold.

You were just getting used to it — being public.

Just getting used to the looks.

People knew now. Your name had trended for a few hours the day the photo dropped: his arm around your waist, both of you laughing after a team dinner. He didn’t post it himself — it was someone else. A soft launch that turned into a hard one real fast. And you knew the attention would follow. The questions. The chirps.

What you didn’t expect was what the other team would say to him.

You didn’t hear it all. But you saw the moment it shifted.

Will had just circled the back of the net, skating hard into a check, when the other guy — #82, short, smug, pushing thirty — leaned in and said something.

Will turned.

Fast.

His helmet tipped forward, chin down, fists already rising — not reckless, but decisive. The way he squared up was like something had been boiling in him long before the game even started.

They dropped gloves at center ice.

The whole place erupted.

You were already standing.

Will swung first — clean, brutal. The other guy reeled back, then lunged again. They twisted, slammed into the boards, fists flying, a blur of muscle and heat and spite. You could barely breathe. Could barely think.

He never fought. Not like this.

You knew he could, but he didn’t.

Until now.

It ended with Will on top — the other guy slumped, pulled back by refs, blood trickling from his nose. Will’s knuckles were raw, lip split, chest heaving as they dragged him off the ice.

And you were already on your way.

Down the stairs. Through the gate. Past the security who barely glanced up — they knew who you were now.

You waited in the tunnel. Jaw clenched. Hands trembling in your coat pockets.

You didn’t like this part.

You didn’t like the way adrenaline lived in your chest like a second heartbeat — especially when the reason he fought was you.

Because you knew. Even without hearing it, you knew.

Will stepped off the ice.

His skates clattered. Jersey torn. Blood on his chin. But his eyes were already on you.

He walked fast.

Straight toward you.

No medics. No trainers. Just you.

“Will,” you snapped, half-whisper, half-sharp. “What the fuck was that?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept walking until he was in front of you, shoulder to shoulder, taller than usual with adrenaline still pumping through his body.

“He said some shit,” Will muttered, gaze flicking down to your lips like he needed to anchor himself.

“That’s not enough of a reason.”

Will leaned in. Not sweet. Not rough. Just there — his forehead nearly brushing yours.

“He said he was gonna take you from me. Said there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.”

Your chest tightened.

“And you thought fighting him was the answer?” you asked, breath trembling. “You thought bleeding for it would prove your point?”

“No,” he said, voice low, “but I wasn’t gonna let him say that about you. Not when you’re mine.”

The word hit harder than you expected — not possessive, not childish. Just honest.

Yours.

Because he was yours, too.

You exhaled. Let your fingers drift up to where the collar of his jersey tugged against his throat. “You didn’t have to prove anything to me.”

Will’s mouth curved, just barely. “Didn’t do it for you.”

You blinked.

He leaned closer, voice barely audible now. “I did it for me. Because the second he said it, I knew I’d rather lose the game than sit on the bench pretending I didn’t want to knock his teeth in for looking at you like that.”

You didn’t say anything. Just stared at him, at the boy you’d tried not to fall for — the one five years younger who still opened your car door and remembered your coffee order and smiled like he meant it every time he saw you.

“You scared me,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I didn’t.”

You finally let out a breath and dropped your head to his chest. He wrapped his arms around you like they were made for it — like you’d always fit there, even if you hadn’t believed it.

“I was still scared.”

He stepped closer — so close you could feel the heat coming off his jersey, see the bruise already starting to bloom near his mouth.

“Then let me make it better.”

You didn’t move right away.

But when you did — when you reached for him, hands curling into the fabric at his waist — he wrapped you in his arms like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Like there was nothing to be scared of anymore.

Because he was already yours.

And he wasn’t letting go.

[wheeboo]

candy | yoon jeonghan {TEASER}

SYNOPSIS. After moving back into the city to be closer with friends and family, you start receiving letters from an unknown sender in your mail. When curiosity gets the better of you, you decide to respond, and what begins as a simple sweet-tasting exchange soon blossoms into something more with someone you’ve never met—or so you think. But as the snow continues to fall, you find yourself confronting the bitter-tasting feelings you thought were long buried back in your youth, as well as the person who’s been hiding in plain sight all along. Loosely inspired from vocal unit’s, Candy. PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x gn!reader (ft. soonyoung, mingyu, joshua, seokmin, seungkwan) GENRE. fluff, penpal au, angst, exes to lovers, second chance romance WARNINGS. swearing, alcohol and food consumption, mental health mentions, jeonghan and reader broke up on bad terms, so much longing!!! and pining!!!!!, one-bed trope, unfortunately they're still in love and are lil idiots 😔 WORD COUNT (FOR THE TEASER). 1.5k WORD COUNT. (FOR FULL FIC). 15k-20k

notes: me publishing this in the hopes i won't hate this when i finish it (it's almost done)! anyway, this is my teaser for the @camandemstudios "winter with you" collab! if you'd like to be tagged specifically for this fic, feel free to leave a comment/ask! to sign up for the taglist for the entire collab, you can fill it out here!

You don’t know why you’re standing in front of the café again. 

It’s late, far later than you intended to be out. Bags of convenience store food are tightly gripped in your hands, snow crunching beneath your feet as you take another step towards the door of the cafe, before stepping back again. 

You feel ridiculous standing there, like the answer lies right behind the door, and all you had to do was push it open. The soft glow of the lights inside spills through the frosted glass, casting warm hues on the snowy pavement. The temptation to just walk away gnaws at you. 

What are you even hoping to accomplish here?

You sigh, your breath floating like wisps in the cold air, shaking your head dismissively. The bags in your hands crinkle as you shift your grip, trying to convince yourself that this is a bad idea. But then, as if on autopilot, your feet move forward, and as you are about to push through the door, it swings open by itself. 

Jeonghan steps out, his coat slung loosely over his shoulders, his blonde hair catching the soft light. He freezes when he sees you, the surprise in his eyes giving way to something else𑁋something unreadable. And you could only stand there, like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, or minute, maybe even a whole damn hour, neither of you speak. 

He’s the first to break the silence.

“Did you want to come in?” he asks.

“I𑁋no,” You stammer, gripping the bags in your hands even tighter. “I was just passing by.”

Jeonghan simply stares at you for a beat or two, his lips forming a thin line.

“You were never really a good liar, you know.”

You wince at the words, even though they aren't said harshly. It’s the fact that he still knows you so well, despite everything that’s passed between the two of you. It makes the sting go even deeper into your heart. The years apart have changed you, shaped you in ways that should’ve made him a stranger. 

And yet, here he is, looking at you like nothing’s different. 

“Okay, I was… I was thinking of getting some coffee before𑁋”

“Since when did you become a coffee person?”

The slight quirk you catch on his lips makes your stomach twist into an uneasy knot. You hate how he seems to still know you like the lines on the back of your hand, hate how he can still read you so easily, even after all this time.

You hate how you can’t fully hate him, even if you’ve convinced yourself enough times that you’re supposed to. 

Jeonghan’s eyes flicker curiously over you once more, and there’s a slight shiver to your limbs that he catches sight of.

“Do you want to come inside? I could give you some coffee before I𑁋”

“No,” You cut him off sharply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I’m fine. I just... I don’t want anything from you.”

Jeonghan’s expression falters, the familiar trace of concern flickering behind his eyes. It makes you nearly want to give in, but you refuse to show that vulnerability, because you don’t want to feel that way again. You don’t want to be the person who needs him. You can’t let yourself fall back into his orbit, because does the sun really care if you burn yourself trying to get close to it again?

He doesn’t move, his eyes narrowing and softening into something contemplative. His gaze still doesn’t leave you, studying the way you stand, as if trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head. He brushes a stray lock of hair behind his ear and steps back up a fraction, letting his shoulders deflate in what may be defeat.

“It’s really been a while, hasn’t it?” 

You swallow hard. You can’t deny that it’s been so long, but here he is, standing in front of you, almost the same, yet so different. Maybe it’s the more mature look in his eyes, but something about him feels less like the Jeonghan you once knew, and you can’t quite place your finger on why that makes you even more unsettled.

“Yeah. It has.”

Jeonghan shifts between his two feet and stuffs his hands inside the pockets of his coat. You remember how easily cold he would get back then, always wrapping himself in layers even when the air wasn’t particularly chilly or sneaking his hands into your pockets as an excuse to get close with you. 

A part of you wishes he’d just leave. You wish you could escape to avoid this conversation. But you’re stuck here, frozen under his gaze, as if time has both stretched and shrunk all at once. The very thing you feared was happening𑁋you’re back where it all began.

“You look great,” he says, the words coming out softer than you expect.

Your heart skips, and you curse at it mentally for betraying you. “Jeonghan, you can’t just𑁋”

“Can’t just what?” he interrupts gently, almost teasingly, and it makes the words die in your throat. His expression holds none of the coldness it used to. No. This is different. 

You suck in a deep breath, shaking your head as if trying to clear the fog that’s settling over your mind. You want to tell him to stop looking at you like that, to stop making everything feel so complicated, to stop making your heart flutter yet hide itself away. But the words don’t come out right.

“I… I didn’t come here for you, you know,” You confess weakly, and you hate how easily your voice crumbles. 

Jeonghan doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flicker down to the bags in your hands, and then back to you, studying the way you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. There’s a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah?” There’s a faint smirk to his features as he steps closer to you, but not enough to close the distance completely. “Then what are you doing here?”

The cold air nips achingly at the skin of your cheek, your lips pursing into a thin line to keep anything from spilling out. 

“I don’t know.”

You’re met with an arch of a brow, an incredulous look plaguing his features. You hate it. You want him to stop looking at you like he has the answer to your thoughts, like he knows more about what you’re going through than you do. But you’ve already dug yourself in a hole𑁋you just lied in front of him, and he knows. 

Jeonghan takes another step closer, the distance between the two of you shrinking by a fraction, as if testing the waters. He’s so close now. Too close. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, the same warmth that once made you feel safe. The same warmth that you ran from when everything fell apart between you.

And you take that chance to run away again.

“I should go,” You let out nimbly, clutching the bags in your hands, turning your back toward him, not before muttering out a quiet, “I’ll… see you around.”

Jeonghan watches as you walk away, and you feel his eyes shoot lasers through you as the distance between the two of you grows. 

When he brings his gaze down to the snow-covered pavement, he lightly chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as if he’s caught between a sigh and a laugh. It’s not mocking, though. There’s something softer in it, perhaps heavier, sadder. But of course, you don’t hear it. You’re too far away now. 

You don’t dare look back. If you do, you know you’ll fall apart.

Dear 526,  Hello. Sorry, it’s been a few days since I’ve opened my mail. Promise me you’ve been keeping warm, or else. Sending my thanks to Google as I write this, literally. Strange times continue, I’m afraid. Let’s just say someone walked back into my life unexpectedly, and now I’m trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse. All the memories came back with them too. A blessing because I haven’t seen them in a long time; a curse because it was simply my fault for screwing up things with them in the first place. I don’t know. Does that make sense? Sorry, I’m rambling. You said you don’t mind long letters, though, so here’s me testing the waters. Anyway, how have you been settling in the city? I can imagine it must be quite daunting. Keep hanging in there, though.  - 017

To 017,  Funny that you mention memories. They’ve been on my mind a lot too. As for your question, I think I understand. Do you ever wonder why we hold onto certain memories so tightly? Even the painful ones? It’s like a part of you is afraid to let them go because you feel like you’d lose pieces of yourself along with them. It’s complicated. Maybe that’s a little too philosophical for this letter. I guess I’ve been in my head too much.  Perhaps the past isn’t as easy to leave behind as we think. Other than that, I hope this person doesn’t cause you too much heartache. I’ll fight them if you need me to. I think I’ve been making peace with the city. Some days are good. Some days are bad. But maybe this is where I’ve always belonged. - 526

Once again, you pin 017’s letter on your refrigerator, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

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[sugar--brown]

A bit of fluff

Because we need more fluff to balance all the angst people are creating with the cat!Martin AU by @ultramarinaa

I'm preparing a proper big fic, but meanwhile I made this.

What were the chances to read a book made of only two pages and turning into a cat because of it only a few months after your promotion?

Not much. Martin was sure of that. As sure as the fact, he was in deeeep troubles. What would his boss say?! Turning into a cat should be pretty high on the scale of being unprofessional. Especially after introducing himself as the incompetent fool who let dogs run free in the archives! Jon will be so disappointed and annoyed! He was toasted!

Maybe... Maybe he could fix this? Maybe if he could read the book backward…?

Martin took a tentative step forward and immediately face-planted on the floor. Right. Four legs instead of two. That was great.

He meowed - gosh! he meowed! - pathetically before standing up, ready to make another attempt. But this time, everything was blurry.

… why was everything blurry?

Oh. His glasses. Right. Face-planting on the floor meant losing your glasses. Strange thing that his clothes disappeared with his body, while his glasses stayed the same…

Ah. Great. He couldn't put them back on. Because he was a cat. Without hands. Just very big and soft paws.

He really needed to fix this before anyone sees him!

Staggering a little, Martin began to walk cautiously toward the evil book. He was scared - heck! even terrified - of it. But what could it do more? Turning him into another type of cat?

With apprehension, Martin used his front right par to hit the book quickly. Nothing happened. Ready to bolt backward, he very slowly peaked at the fourth cover.

A wonderful fairytale where only the purrest love can help the hero to save the damsel.

Ah. Ah. Ah. Very funny.

Annoyed, Martin hit the book so hard that it flew away, landing between cardboard boxes full of statements. Great! He was already sick of it!

Two hands grabbed him and lifted him up.

“Hello!” cooed the stranger who just grabbed him without any warning.

Martin meowed and hissed in panic, squirming with all his might. But the stranger hugged him against their chest and started scratching him behind the ears. Oooooooh that was good…

“There, there, it's okay now. You are safe. I don't know how you got here, but I promise I won't hurt you.”

Wait. That voice… was it…?!

“I'm Jonathan, what's your name?”

Martin's eyes grew wide in shock. That was Jon! His boss! His prickly, cold-hearted, boss! And he was cooing at him like he was the cutest thing in the world.

Oh gosh… he was in deep troubles.

“Hey bossman! Did you find Martin? He was supposed to-... is that a cat?”

Tim appeared around the corner, clearly amused by the scene. Jon immediately stopped cooing and scratching Martin's ears, becoming all tenser and professional.

“Ah. Yes, it is… it is a cat. I caught it before it can do any damages.”

Hey! Martin wouldn’t have done any damages! He knew he wasn't the most graceful person, but he wasn't that clumsy. …right?

“What are you all doing back there? Oh! That's a very cute cat, Jon.”

And here was Sasha. Each second was more humiliating than the last. Martin really wanted to run and hide somewhere dark, tiny and safe right now.

“Do you know where it comes from?” asked Sasha, getting closer to inspect Martin.

“No, I just heard him. He doesn't have any tattoos or tag on him.” answered Jon, putting unconsciously a possessive hand on Martin's back. “I have not the faintest idea how he arrived here.”

“Ha! You know cats, boss, they are real champions when they want something!” laughed Tim.

“Champion… that's a good name.”

“Wow! You are already naming him? You move fast!” teased Tim with a smirk.

“We can't keep him, he may have an owner already.” added Sasha, more pragmatic.

“W-well… We can't call him ‘the cat’, that would be properly ridiculous.”

If Martin didn't know better, he would have thought Jon was embarrassed. But he couldn't, he was never embarrassed. On the other hand, he hadn’t reacted like this with the dog so…

While he was lost in his thoughts about his ridiculously cute boss, the group had moved on back to the break room.

Wait. What about the book?! And his glasses?!

Martin was almost able to escape, but Jon's soft hands captured him over his shoulder at the last second. But that didn't stop him to agitated his fluffy paws with a few panicked meows.

“What's wrong, Champion?” asked Jon, looking back with surprise. “Oh, good spot! There are glasses on the floor.”

Martin had half a hope to see Jon putting his glasses on his nose so he could see, but of course, he didn't. Instead, he inspected them before putting them in his pocket with a disgusted face.

“Aren't they Martin's?” asked Tim with curiosity.

“Yes.” groaned Jon. “He must have lost them while clumsily searching for a statement. I still don't understand why he had been assigned here. He clearly didn't have the competences to-... hey!”

Martin had escaped Jon's grasp with a hiss. He knew he wasn't good at his job, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear it!

Before Jon could grab him again, Martin flew under a shelf, deep enough so he couldn't be grabbed. He heard the others shout in surprise and agitation, but he was too agitated to pay attention.

He vaguely heard Tim saying to “cut him some slack” and Sasha guessing that “champion surely needs space”. And Martin decided to do just that. He would stay here until everyone was gone, and then he would find the book to turn himself back.

Hours went by. And Martin must have snooze at some point because when he focused again, everything was calm and quiet. Tentatively, he came out.

Nothing to worry about. The lights were off and Tim and Sasha weren't here any more. So, he walked as silently as possible to where he had launched the book.

Until he heard a groan.

Martin froze. And slowly, oh so slowly, turned his head. 

Jon was still here. In fact, Jon was so focused on his work he hadn’t noticed Martin. So he could have continued, but… something was off. Jon didn't look… healthy. Or at least less than usual.

He seemed barely able to not passed out. He was pale, sweaty and his eyes were unfocused.

… when was the last time had Jon eaten? They didn't see him going out of his office at lunch…

With a sigh, Martin shook his head and walked to the break room's fridge. To be fair, he was a bit hungry himself. And he knew his fish salade was in here. He always brought double portions in case someone forgot their lunch.

It took a lot of time and effort, but Martin was able to open the fridge and to drag the dish to Jon's office.

“Champion? You're out? What are you… oh.”

Jon stood up quickly, too quickly because he needed a few second to make the world stopped spinning. Then, he knelt in front of Martin.

“Where did you… oh, you must be hungry. Right. Sorry… I'm a bit rusty at taking care of a cat. You are really smart, you know? Stealing Martin's food… I'm sure he wouldn’t mind, since he left work early to go find a replacement for his glasses.”

Martin huffed in annoyance. Why did Jon was so… harsh? Sure, he was a fool but still…

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Let me open this.”

That what he did, but he didn't eat. Maybe he needed some encouragements? Martin his best imitation of pleading kitty eyes while hitting softly the salad.

“You… want to share?”

Jon visibly melted, almost like he was ready to cry. But instead, he just sat on the floor and began eating the veggies while giving the sardines to Martin.

They shared in silence. But it was the best interaction Martin had Jon since… since ever! So he wouldn’t complain.

When they finished, Jon suddenly bent down and gently hugged Martin, bumping his head with his.

“Thank you…” he whispered in a broken voice.

And the genuine, honest, sweet, smile of Jon made Martin think that everything wasn't so terrible.

[maybankslover]

I woke up in a mood and I wholeheartedly believe that you’re the only one that can write a that’s so true based fic and do it justice

that's so true- drew starkey

drew starkey x actress!reader

warnings: maybe a bit of angst, may have fluff, may mention sex, alcohol, not dragging anyone everything is fic material.

summary: made it out alive?

playlist: that's so true by gracie abrams.

a/n: thanks baby for the request ily @droppedyourhnd. oh and pls reblog thank u

"he's just a dumb man, that's all." she laughed while drowning a tequila shot at some after party, another actress she was friend's with asking about what had happened with the man that now standed across the room with some other girl under his arm but who still threw glances her way.

did she know she had taken his shirt off once or twice? if the corridors of that show talked the short brunette that was with him that night would be taking off her earings picking out a fight.

"you're infuriating." he said following after her back to her hotel room after the filming day came to an end.

"oh give me a break and go back to miss 'oh you're so strong baby'." she laughed at him. "maybe i should go and warn her, she seems." she took a pause. "sweet." the little smirk on her face made him even more mad.

he was so obssesed with her and he hated that but she loved it, she loved knowing that he couldn't let go of her as much as she couldn't let go of the little game they were used to by now.

"stop your irony. you don't like her." he cornered her against the door of her room. "be honest."

"she seems fun." the serious look on her face makes him almost believe her but two seconds later she was laughing on his face. "i'm not that evolved honey, maybe i should tell her that you used to take my hair down."

opening the door behind her she left him hanging with the words at the tip of his tongue.

"made it out alive." she said to their shared friends, being in the same cast for so long had it's pro's and it's con's. "but i actually think i lost it, he's just another blue eyed sad boy."

"it won't last she's just cool for a bit, get's annoying after a while." the blonde to her right said and the other three girl laughed, agreeing with what her friend just said. "you'll make it out of the coffin."

a loud bang on her door woke her up, 4:07 am in the little clock at her side. who the fuck was on the other side? they ended filming only an hour before, everyone should be fucking exhausted.

"who the fuck is it?" she said opening the door and there he was pointing a finger at her.

"i died when you started walking and you act like it's all fine? what the hell is wrong with you?" he pushed past her and entered the room.

"sure c'mon in." she closed the door behind her. "it's four in the morning, what the fuck is worng with you?"

"you, you it's what's wrong with me." it was way too late.

"isn't your girl waiting in your room." he nooded no. "so what you're lonely and decided you needed to fuck my night of sleep? we have shoots at 10 am and i only got one hour of sleep."

he ignored her words. "how can you act like it's all fine? like it's all cool?"

she laughed ironically at him. "you think everything is fine? i'm a fucking actress if you don't know acting it's what i know how to do." she pushed at his chest. "you think i didn't feel like i was dying like i thought i wouldn't make it out of the coffin we sent ourselves into? are you fucking delussional?"

"it sure seems like it!" they were both painting, veins starting to grow with anger at both of their necks.

"made it out alive because that's my life! didn't mean i didn't want to rip little miss anoying hair out of her head everytime she puts her arms around you." she knew that she would get a noise complain tomorrow morning. "but you know the vibe."

"yeah i know the feeling." he runed his hand across her mouth. "didn't do it to hurt you."

"don't believe you, you're just like everyother dude so get out because i need to sleep."

she pointed at the door and looked at those bright blue eyes before getting back to bed.

but as a broken record a month later he laid, once again, in her bed.

"don't wanna go back to that feeling." he said into the darkness. it seemed like a big glass house how everyone knew the drill, how everyone knew their truth.

because after all what their friend said was so true, time and time again they made it out of the coffin but they'd always end up throwing themselves in it.

kicking back on couches, making eyes across the room, taking down her hair and taking off his shirt.

masterlist

taglist: @chenslucy @gillybear17 @imliterallyamirrorball @nichmeddar @gillybooboo @julczimozart @bellbottombabe @silkylovey @droppedyourhnd @jaydaaasworld @congratsloserr @carrerascameron @m1santhropicc @wearemadeofstardust0 @chiaraanatra @rlalliehayes @ijustwanttoreadlols @sunny1616 @theoraekenslover @isaidoop @ethanthequeefqueen @rafesdrew @loverdrew @frankoceanluvr11

[chronically-ghosted]

your friendly neighborhood dumbass

part i of some days, you just can't get rid of a bomb

AO3 Link | series masterlist | main masterlist | marcus moreno masterlist

rating: explicit (18+)

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: a night in turns into a crucial turning point for your relationship with marcus. what happens next, what he chooses, is entirely up to him - or maybe you, depending on who you ask.

warnings: a nice little smattering of angst and fluff, with just a dusting of crackfic, grinding like horny teenagers, themes of doubt and a lack of self-worth, lots of "i'm sorry"s because the man is a hulk, life not at risk unless you're a couch, insecure people trying to be better than what they are, missy moreno being an absolute menace, peep the references if you can

a/n: was this on the approved list of fics the author needed to work on? Absolutely not, but regrettably she recently finished My Adventures with Superman and now she needs to fuck a kind, good-hearted shitbrickhouse of a man in spandex or she will die. Apologies in advance.

The wine has you believing this time it will be different.

His grip on your hip, possessive and firm, tells you the same: this time it will be different. He will be different.

This time, he won't stop.

The inside of Marcus's mouth shares the tang of the dry cabernet sauvignon, fruity and acidic, sitting in the half-empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you. His hand in your hair is warm from the open fire roaring in the fireplace, the skin on the back of his neck where you grip him just as warm. Each time you tilt your head, licking deeper and deeper into his mouth, soft lips bumping up against each other, your nose brushes his heated cheeks, your own burning from the rub of his beard.

You dig your nails into his skull and he releases your lips for a moment let out a low groan.

"Fuck."

You grin, your half-lidded eyes taking in the way his own drift close, his swollen mouth dropping open wider and wider the harder you tug on his hair. His glasses have fogged up completely, which under any other circumstances would mean he is moments away from taking them off; it's not like he needs them to see anyway.

It's the opening you need.

With his eyes still closed, you pull yourself closer, one hand still gripping his hair, the other sliding from his shoulder to balance yourself against his solid chest. The first time you touched him like this, it surprised you that his bullet-proof skin actually depressed under the pads of your fingers. Now you know that he feels everything just as any normal man would. He can be distracted like any man can.

You nip at the tender flesh below his ear, your bite just barely on the deep end of hard, and he keens. Hips bucking into nothing, it looks involuntary, his eyes fully closed and head turned to expose his throat.

Encouragement. Don't stop.

Your heart suddenly pounds harder, or maybe you're just now registering it, as an almost panicked frenzy floods your system. God, you've wanted this for so, so, so long. Marcus Moreno is indescribably hot and the longer you've had to wait, the more thoughts of fucking him senseless had taken over your every waking moment.

His grip is so hard it officially sort of hurts. Not that you're about to tell him that.

Excitement and eager desire beating in your chest, you sit up from where your knees were tucked under you, thighs previously keeping a respectful distance between your hips and his, and you completely obliterate any idea of respectability. Throw your leg over his thighs and tug yourself into his lap, not giving him a single second to overthink or reconsider. Gone is the moment where you pleasantly request access to his mouth; you dig your fingers deep into his curls, making sure to scratch along his scalp, and when his lips part in another moan that plunges deep into your core, your tongue licks his as roughly as it can.

With the press of your chest against his, his moan twists high, a gasp, and you lose yourself entirely to sensation. His jeans scrape against the insides of your thigh, your skirt rucked up high, the threat of friction so near your throbbing cunt almost overwhelmingly cruel. That well-behaved hand finally abandons your hip and digs into your waist, then the lower arch of your ribs — sliding without thought towards your right breast. You could cry from promised relief, your own gasp escaping between your lips and his, as his other hand knots your hair at the base of your skull with warm, solid fingers.

"Oh, God, Marcus —," you're actually whining, petulant and begging.

He surges up, forward, flattening your breasts against his chest, his grip in your hair impossibly tightening, and his teeth sink into your jaw — you wail, the heat of his crotch so close to your wet panties, your thighs shake, his right hand pulling your hip down, against him, tilting you back at a sweet, beautiful angle as the tender center of your frustration grinds down against the seam of his jeans and a staggeringly hard bulge —

Marcus pulls back.

More like, he yanks himself away from your mouth, both hands this time almost shoving you off his lap.

That heart-racing desire edged with desperation twists into a light panic.

You dip forward again, seeking out that spot on his throat that made him melt, but his super-human grip holds you at a distance — you couldn't get out even if you tried. And at this point, he won't even look you in the eyes, his head tilted back on the back of the couch, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Both of you are panting hard, but with every passing moment, the high of arousal falls faster and faster, until you can feel it crash and burn.

Your own grip on his shoulders twists the fabric of his shirt, this time in anger.

"What? What is it?"

You'd already committed the clearly grievous sin of begging once tonight, so you don't ask him: why did you stop . . . again?

Marcus swallows gulps of air, flush high in his cheeks, his throat tightening and loosening in a way that in your current state nearly sets off that wild frenzy of need again. Every inch of your skin is throbbing, this time almost painfully. It feels like you've run a marathon only to slam face-first into a brick wall inches from the finish line.

There will be no finishing of any kind, he's made sure of that.

Between aborted gasps of breathe, the words form and escape in anger, before you can stop them.

"Marcus," you bark, "what is going on?"

The harshness of your voice snaps him out of whatever fugue state he's slipped into and his head jerks up off the couch. He looks like he's been slapped; shocked, pink-cheeked, eyes unfocused.

And then he swallows.

"I'm sorry." He says quickly. "I'm sorry — I just — it's —,"

Your anger swerves dangerously into sorrow, tasting bitterly of shame.

You climb off him, even though his hands follow, in direct contrast to everything he's said and done in the past two minutes.

He does look genuinely sorry as you cross your arms, the wet fabric of your panties stuck uncomfortably against your curls and that only ratchets up your building fury.

"It's what, Marcus?" you snap. His face visibly falls. The pounding in your chest is starting to hurt. "This is getting ridiculous."

Your words hit him like a physical force; he tightens his eyes shut and leans forward the curve of his brow in the palms of his hands.

"I know it is." His voice is low, addressing his knees. "This isn't what I want either."

"Then what's your fucking problem?" His shoulders lock up when you swear, harden, like he's steeling himself for something. Your ball of fury ices over immediately and plunges fear between your ribs and your heart. "Marcus, are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?"

He blurs and he's on his feet in front of you — not an entirely needed use of his super-human speed, you think distractedly.

His dark, liquid eyes are a black hole; you fall harder for him, spin down aimlessly, every time he looks this intently at you. Every time he takes your elbows like this and makes you stand still — something you abhor by your very nature. And he'd happily spend the rest of his life chasing after you and saving your ass, he once told you.

But maybe he had lied. Maybe you were too much.

Marcus shakes his head, eyes wide, his hold on you steady but light, as if determined not to touch you in any way that can be misconstrued as simply polite. Your stomach hurts.

"No, God, no. Shit — no, that's not what I want even remotely." He swallows again, gaze drifting to your earlobe. "That's the furthest thing from what I want, but — I — I can't —,"

You open mouth to scream, you can't what?, when an all-too familiar siren breaks the silence. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the light beam flicker as it blasts one single image into the sky.

Marcus breathes in sharply and curses again under his breath as he glances out at the city's signal, all but calling his name.

Somewhere, out there in the dark, someone needs a hero.

Too bad it has to be your hero.

His expression is pained as he looks back at you.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to —,"

"Go. You have to go. I know."

"But when I come back, I want to —,"

"No, Marcus." You shake your head and amazingly pull yourself out of his grip. Your grief has been processed enough to melt the confused fury down to icy despondency. You wipe your eyes briefly before you pick up the two empty wineglasses and half-drunk wine bottle. If you couldn't control your voice every time you got emotional, you wouldn't be a very good reporter.

"I want to be alone for the rest of the night," you tell him flatly as you purposefully keep your back to him, which might be a moot point given that he could probably smell the tears in your eyes. Fucking superheroes.

The way he murmurs your name is the only thing in all of existence that could have stopped you in your tracks.

"Please, can we talk about this?"

No.

Not tonight.

Not right now.

"Just go, Marcus. I want you to leave."

You don't hear the door close, or the window open, but you know he's gone when a draft of cold air floods the room, the curtains flapping as if startled by the sudden change in temperature.

You calmly turn off the water and go to shut the window.

You make it back to the sink just as the knot in your throat chokes you enough for the tears to come. You don't sink to your knees, like any other dejected girlfriend of a superhero, but you do cry silently until your whole head feels like it's swollen with salt and water.

"This is the fourth fucking time he's done this, Kat! I am sick and tired of it! Either he's going to fuck me or I'm going to lose my goddamn mind!"

Neither the microwave nor your oatmeal deserves the way you roughly toss your bowl onto the glass plate, or the way you slam the plastic door. You take your frustration out on the buttons as if you could cause an appliance physical pain.

Huffing, you turn back around, arms crossed as the innocent microwave heats up your morning breakfast.

Kat, your best friend at work, smirks as the coffee machine refills her cup.

"'Oh, no, the hottest man on the planet who is also a sexy superhero AND who is also my boyfriend won't fuck me, whatever will I do?'"

You groan. "I'm serious! Every time we are literally inches from it, he pushes me away like I'm on fire or something. And I even wore my good underwear last night!"

Okay, you're officially pouting. But you still feel entirely justified. You snag the hot bowl from the microwave and slump into a chair at the break room table, poking your warm oatmeal with a spoon.

"If he doesn't want to fuck me, then why is he dating me?" You grumble.

Kat rolls her eyes as she sits down next to you and begins her morning ritual of turning her black coffee almost translucently white with a truly terrifying amount of sugar and cream. The break room table often resembles a battle field, mutilated sugar packets and globs of cream everywhere, by the time Kat is finished making her coffee every morning.

"I'm very sure not wanting to fuck you is the actual problem. You are very fuckable."

"Then what? What is it?" You toss your hands in the air, demanding answers from the very universe. "What is he so afraid of?"

Kat thoughtfully taps another packet of sugar into her mug, the first packet lying dead and mangled by her elbow.

"Have you asked him?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

You hide your shameful grimace behind a bite of oatmeal. "Okay, fine, I just yelled at him like he had lost his mind. And then, of course, he was called off to go be heroic, or whatever."

"Unless I am distinctly mistaken, mind-reading is not one of his powers."

Even the rush of sugar hitting the liquid sounds judgy.

"Kat, I am a grown adult woman. I know how to communicate in a relationship. I know how to ask for what I want . . ." You pause, a sense of concern rising in your stomach. You never before had to put it into words and the instant you do, this nebulous anxiety solidifies. "But this is different."

Kat's frown matches your own as she sips her Snow White-colored coffee.

"How do you mean?"

Being with Marcus has been unlike anything else, anyone else, and it's only now how out of your element you feel you are. It's not because he's a single dad because he might be the best father you've ever seen. It's not even his highly demanding job, because you have one too. Is it because he has powers? No, that can't —

Is it because he has powers, and you don't?

That seems marvelously petty.

And perhaps inaccurate because this feeling didn't arise until after he put the kibosh on anything more than virginal hand-holding. He has powers, you don't, but he definitely has a working dick, so why is this so personal for you?

A nudge against your arm brings you back to the office break room. Kat is smirking again, eyeing the clock.

"C'mon, you're That's-So-Raven-ing which means either you've had a startling realization or you've gotten a vision of the future. We only have fifteen minutes before Barry starts nosing around, asking why we think we have autonomy over our time. Spill."

The fluorescent lights are starting to dry out your eyes. This is the first time you hesitate to investigate the truth, mostly because when you pick it up to examine the truth, it burns you in a very tender place. You sigh and rub the backs of your eyelids.

"I don't know," you partially lie, to her and yourself. "Maybe he thinks he'd be better off with someone who doesn't work twelve hours a day, three days a week. Someone who can be present on the weekends, instead of attached to their email. Maybe someone who can be a real mom to Missy —,"

Your voice breaks just as Kat's hand covers yours. Embarrassment instantly scalds away the fresh tears in your eyes and you take back your hand from hers, crushing your fist into your lap.

"I'm sorry." It's breathy and as your best friend, she deserves better, but there's bruise forming, or one you're just now recognizing, and it's been there a lot longer than you thought. You stand and you feel your thighs tremble. "I'm sorry, Kat, I'm tired and I've been busting my ass for this article and it doesn't feel like it's going anywhere — I'm sorry. Thank you for listening, but I've got to get back to work."

Kat is a few years younger than you, a little more messy with her dating life, but an incredible writer and investigator. She has broken as many stories as you have, and in the beginning, it was not uncommon for the both of you to share a byline. She is your best friend and by design, you feel deeply protective of her.

And yet, sitting there in your office's shitty break room, she looks worryingly disappointed in you, staring up with concerned eyes. She knows you're lying but she also knows she won't be able to get anything out of you because that's the kind of person you are. Hidden behind a byline and a spit-fire grin.

"Of course," she says simply, sadly. "We can chat later."

"I'll call you," you say, meaningfully, intending to do it, but knowing you won't.

"Of course," she says again. She smiles and you take that as your dismissal.

Your heart is pounding a ragged and painful beat in the hollows of your throat as you walk back to your desk.

You shake your mouse to wake up your computer, absolutely determined to write something and get it all out of your mind, when you realize your hands are trembling over the keys.

Fuck.

Fuck superheroes and their fucking powers.

Fuck Marcus Moreno for ruining your night and your morning and your friendship with Kat.

Oh, and fuck him doubly for making you forget your oatmeal in the breakroom.

Your stomach grumbles in protest.

A full gallon of Cookie Two Step was reserved only for breakups and while there hadn't been one officially, it didn't take a reporter's instinct to know what was coming. So, on Friday, after days of staying at the office until Steve the janitor was going around and shutting off the lights, and then getting back to the office before Steve unlocked the building, you come straight home after work.

With one single detour.

At least you didn't buy a full bottle of wine, like with a regular break up. That felt way too final.

Something, something counting chickens before they hatch.

So you didn't whip out your grungy sweatpants you've had since college, or your stained but buttery-soft cardigan to wrap yourself up in. Instead, you slipped on a pair of lounging shorts and took down the biggest sweatshirt you could find in the back of the closet, something that could swallow you whole — only to realize this was not your sweatshirt, but Marcus's. With Marcus's smell still present beneath the fabric softener you use. Marcus's heat still clinging to the neck hole, you're sure of it.

If this were an actual break up, you would have thrown that sweatshirt in the garbage — no, actually, down the garbage shoot of your building. Or set fire to it on your patio, whichever you decided first.

But as such —

You bury your face in the sweater, inhaling deeply and pressing your fists into your face, a poor substitute for his rock-solid chest.

Fuck.

You pull it on over your head, the soft fabric rubbing deliciously against your bare nipples. At least something of his that won't freak out about my tits.

In the living room, your blanket and spoon await. You flop onto the couch, press play to start the exposé on the evil company behind the tattoo choker of the 90s (a competing documentary on the same subject, but this one on a different streaming platform already queued), and pop the lid to the ice cream.

Marcus hasn't called you all week. Which is why your phone is face down on the coffee table, far enough away you have to lean forward to reach it.

The office knows not to bother you tonight. You made sure of that. Unless the world is literally ending, you are not a reporter tonight.

You are a sad sack who doesn't know where you stand with your boyfriend. Or maybe he just wants to be friends —

Huffing, you stuff your face full of ice cream again, trying to focus on the talking heads describe the corruption and duplicity surrounding the iconic vintage fashion choice. Oh, God, did they really just describe that plastic choker as vintage? It can't possibly vintage — you're not that old —

The harsh buzz of your phone startles you out of your spiral and your spoon drops into the half-melted tub of ice cream with a plop. You watch it sink as it is slowly submerges, before you grab your phone.

Missy Moreno is calling . . .

Your heart leaps into your chest. Back when you and her father were starting . . . whatever this thing is — was — is, you gave her your phone number and told her to call you for anything, especially emergencies. She has one of those phones meant for children (without internet access and can hold only, like, six numbers), but she seemed delighted to add another contact. Marcus made her promise not to bother you, but you pushed back, telling her you would always be there for her, so she could call day or night.

While she had taken you up on that offer and secretly used you to get ice cream when her dad was working late, she had never called at night.

Because Marcus was usually with her at night, which means he could handle anything she needed. Unless he wasn't with her. Unless he was —

"Missy?" You cradle your phone to your ear, as if you could hold her through the phone. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing! Nothing's wrong." She responds, perky as ever. You roll your eyes as the spike of adrenaline fades and you huff a sigh of relief.

"Then why are you calling me so late? It's almost ten. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I am in bed. Got my pillow behind me and my glass of leche on the bedside table. Abuela is here too."

You put aside the melting tub of ice cream and stand up. You never handled a crisis situation sitting down . . . even if this increasingly didn't look like a crisis situation.

"Okaaay," you say slowly. You mute the TV just in case you misheard her. "You know I love talking to you, Missy, but is there a reason you're calling me so late?"

"Are you doing anything tonight?" She asks as if you hadn't said anything. Brisk, abrupt, on mission. Focused. "Like, are you out somewhere or, like, do you have someone over?"

You blush harder than that time your father caught you making out with your boyfriend in his 89' Camaro.

"What? Missy, that's not — you can't — I'm — no, I'm not out and no, I don't have anyone over. What's this about?"

"So you're alone at home, doing nothing?"

The eleven year old is judging you on your abysmal social life. Great.

"Yes! Okay, yes! I am home alone with nothing going on!"

The doorbell rings.

"Oh, good!" Missy exclaims on the other line. "Just making sure! Good night! Oh, wait, can we go to the pier next weekend? You said we could go just the two of us."

The door bell rings again.

Maybe you're dreaming. Maybe you fell asleep to the world's worst documentary and this is all an absurd dream.

Maybe you dropped your ice cream, slipped, and cracked your head on the kitchen tile.

This time, there is a knock. A pleasant knock. One announcing arrival but not demanding attention.

"Did you hear what I said? I said can we go to the pier —,"

"Y-yeah. Yeah, of course, Missy, we can do that." You can't take your eyes off your front door. "But would your dad mind?"

There is a full, long silence, where Missy Moreno is quiet for the first time in her life.

"He's right there. Why don't you ask him?"

Yep, that's dread you're feeling. And panic. And horror. And —

He calls your name through the wood and stops your heart.

"Bye!" Missy trills and the call ends. You feel the need to reach through the phone, yank her out, and demand she explain herself because there is no way in hell you are opening that door!

He calls out to you again. "Baby, please, can we talk? I really need to see you." Then, "I want to apologize again, and I want to explain myself. You deserve to know what's going on. If you want to break up with me after that, I won't stop you."

Oh, that maniacal, twisted, little —

You wrench the door open. His gaze drifts, all too slowly, from your bare feet, up the curves of your calves, your thighs, to where the giant sweatshirt (his giant sweatshirt) hangs down, and then to your face. His own pales slightly.

"Me break up with you?" You snarl. "How honestly fucking dare you!"

"You didn't call me all week! Or text! What was I supposed to think?"

"I was waiting for you to call! Or text! You were the one who ran out of here like his ass was on fire the instant I touched your dick! And now you have your daughter trick me into opening my door to you because you know you fucked up but you show up anyway, looking all sad with flowers and —,"

Hang on, he brought you flowers? Chrysanthemums, your favorite. A fact you've told, like, one other person besides him. How he glowed when you told him your favorite flower AND how you never told anyone that you even had a favorite flower — and he fucking remembered.

A pounding on the door across from the hall startles you both.

"I am eight-five goddamn years old," a muffled voice shouts through the wood, "I don't need to hear no stories about my neighbor's dick touching!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Sanderson!" You and, to your immense surprise, Marcus chime in unison.

"So fucking lucky I don't complain. The shit I hear coming from that door . . ."

Marcus has the audacity to look slightly ashamed, red on his neck, as he looks back at you. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him, the both of you knowing full well he could pick you up and toss you across the room with one hand.

"Chrysanthemums wilt rather quickly if you don't put them in water." He holds the bouquet up to you.

They really are gorgeous. Not halfway as gorgeous as their owner — no, bad thought.

"Fine. Come in. Just shut the door so I don't get the cops called on me."

Marcus grins as he steps inside and toes off his shoes, just like he always had, even though you never told him he needed to do that. "Yeah, but I'm pretty chummy with the chief of police so I could probably get you down to just a warning."

He follows you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter on the other side of the sink. He watches you fill up a vase, a soft smirk on his face.

"But I can't promise anything if there's a lot of noise."

Usually, you enjoy his terrible one-liners, his ridiculous puns. Marcus is probably the funniest person you've ever met, even if he doesn't always intend the humor. But tonight, his jokes only serve to remind you of the distance between you two. How long it's been since you saw his face, heard his voice. And for him to joke about that, after everything —

"That's not funny, Marcus." You snatch the flowers of his hand and drop them into the vase, eyes on a single bright petal. "Don't make fun of me."

The flowers spin from the force of his speed. He's in front of you in an instant, hand inches from your cheek. When you look up, all the levity is gone from his gaze, replaced by something so serious, it's almost stern.

"Baby, I would never make fun of you. That wasn't me laughing at you, I was being self-deprecating. All of this is my fault and I know it."

The covering you'd placed over that vulnerable bruise you'd found with Kat in the break room, on the precipice of a deeply painful realization, starts to peel with just the brush of his thumb against your skin.

You push out of his arms, yanking your head back.

"Are you just saying that to make me feel better or are you just too much of a coward to admit it?"

His gaze tinged with panic, his eyes widen, the sharp line between his furrowed brows growing deeper. "Admit what? What are you talking about?"

You wish more than anything you had picked literally any other sweater to wear tonight. Agonizingly, you can still smell his cologne around the throat of the sweatshirt. Or maybe you'd just forgotten what being this close to him felt like.

You shove the overly long sleeves up your arms then ball your hands into fists. It's embarrassing to be your age and dress like a toddler, but here we are.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know! You wouldn't run away from me if you didn't feel this way!"

"Baby, please —," Genuine fear colors his voice and for some reason, you're even angrier because of it. So angry, your vision blurs. No, wait, you're —

The gulp of air you try to take in comes out as a sob.

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, bending forward into your hands—

but instead, you fold into something solid. Your feet leave the ground and you cry into his chest, his smell both overwhelming and relieving all at once. Your back touches against something plush, the arm of the couch, and he props you up against his chest, his thighs under yours, his hand holding your hip to him.

"Please talk to me, baby. I'm worried," he murmurs against your forehead, taking care to brush back your hair from your face. He holds you across your shoulders, curling you into him, taking all of you for himself.

Despite your shaking, despite knowing what could happen if you screw this up, what you could lose, you wipe your face and sit up straight. Marcus is pale, stricken with fear. You sniff and smear the snot dripping from your nose on the back of the sweatshirt sleeve.

"Why do you keep running away, Marcus? Just as we're starting to get anywhere, you act like I'm revolting to you. Why — do you even want me that way?" His broken, defensive murmur — "Baby, no —," has him tucking you in closer, his hand coming to your cheek, then cupping your skull.

But you still can't tell if this is the end or not.

"Do you need . . . someone stronger? Someone who is also bullet proof and . . . is it because I don't have powers? " Quietly. Fearfully. In opposition to everything the world knows you to be. You stare at your thumb as it rests on his collarbone, touching his skin but far from his neck. "Am I not enough for you?"

You feel the gulp of air, the swallow, as it shivers down his chest.

Marcus Moreno, the superhero, his hand shakes as it turns your chin up, guiding your eyes to his.

"You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, everything I need and more." There is no hiding the tremble in his voice, the weak tremor as if his incredible strength is failing him. "I should be asking you that question. Around you, I am completely powerless. You are my strength."

This time, amidst all the other times he's tried to make you believe him, this time is the time you finally trust him. When it finally sinks in. When you finally admit to yourself that this thing between you two is nearly tangible, pounding with vitality, that it eclipses both of you and drags you beneath its waves, rendering you helpless.

That's what this is.

You are helplessly, hopelessly in love with Marcus Moreno.

"Then why? Why, Marcus, won't you let me touch you?"

You adjust in his lap, only trying to look him in the eyes at an even height, but your hip brushes up against the seam of his jeans and he inhales. So recklessly sensitive.

He exhales, slowly, then drags his tongue over the curve of his bottom lip against his teeth, his eyes fluttering close, then open. For a moment, the man looking at you isn't Marcus, but a version of himself that has succumbed to something, who has been digested and used, stripped down and made hollow, save for one single desire. He is adrift.

"It's not a matter of want," he begins, lowly, in a pitch that sinks down between the bones of your hips, to that place that houses a creature prone to madness whenever he gets his hands on you. Your breath shudders and he notices — of course he does — his gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, then your throat. Gently, as if testing some sort of boundary, he rubs the soft hairs at the base of your hairline on your neck with his thumb. The grip could turn greedy, overpowering, in an instant. "Believe me when I say this: I've lost sleep over you. Over how you'll feel. Over how you'll sound. How this —," he cups you between your legs and you whimper. Helpless, remember? "— will taste."

The linchpin to Marcus's seduction is not predatory, but his honesty. His blinding, truthful inability to lie and simply lay his desires at your feet.

"Then just tell me — why, Marcus."

He still hasn't removed his warm palm from your cunt, one thumb slipping beneath the edges of your shorts to run smoothly over your skin. You arch into him and his next words start as a rumble in his chest.

"I could break you."

And then he removes his hand again.

Again, his hand settles respectably on your waist, only this time it doesn't settle. His fingers drum uneasily against the bones of your hip, his eyes trailing up and down your bare legs.

"You know, I like it when I can't walk the next day. Marcus," you thumb his thick bottom lip and, dragging his attention back to you, you feel his teeth scrape against your skin. The deep brown of his eyes is darkening fast. "I want you to bruise me a little."

Your kiss is hestitant but he sinks into it anyway, the small groan too soft to be discernible as protest or pleasure, but he takes your mouth all the same. Cups your neck and holds you close as the kisses elongate, heat, and take your breath away.

When your fingers wrap around his wrist, it's like a shock to his system. He pulls away, gaze blurred, mouth potent and plump — you're about two seconds away from clawing that stupid face up —

"I haven't fucked a non-super since my wife died."

Plainly. Stately.

Simply.

"Actually, I haven't fucked anyone since she . . ." He searches your eyes for something but you don't know what. Disgust? Horror, maybe? The words tumble out as if you'd pulled them along by a string. "We were kids when we met so we had all the time in the world to help me to figure out how . . . h-how not to hurt her. How to help me f-finish without . . ." He swallows. Eyes on your mouth again like he wants to keep eating but worries about overfilling. "I haven't been with anyone since her and I think I've . . . forgotten how to do it. Do it, I mean, without hurting the other person."

Marcus Moreno, leader of the Heroics and star player in all your wet dreams, blushes.

But when you don't say anything, his palms warm and suddenly the necklace around your throat trembles, the backs of your earrings start to twist. Your TV flickers.

"I need you to talk to me, please. Please be honest. I think about you and I think about this all the time and I've gotta know now if I have to get you out of my system — out of my head. I don't know if I even can, but I swear I'll try if that's what you want —,"

The dripping spoon rises out of the ice cream tub, wavering uneasily in the air.

"Marcus, honey, slow down. Breathe." The spoon splashes back into the ice cream. Your jewelry settles and that terrible documentary is back on the screen. With a sigh, he tucks his head below your chin and presses his ear flat against your chest. His thumbs rub circles into your back.

The room is quiet, excluding the hum of your air conditioner.

"This is still all so new to me." He murmurs. "Everything about dating is different now. I'm . . . different. You're the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me and I'm so paralyzed that I'm going to screw this up, I — I . . . I end up fucking it up anyway. I'm sorry."

Sometimes you cannot believe this is your life.

Suppressing a grin, you twist locks of his hair between your fingers, scratching lightly to relax him.

"So you won't fuck me because you're afraid you're going to, what, shatter my pelvis?"

He looks up at you, that stern seriousness wildly adorable. "That's not funny."

"Marcus, baby, you control your strength all the time. You manage to hug me without crushing my bones into dust, so what's different about this?"

He swallows, eyes glancing away from your face, down your throat, to your bare sternum. The neck hole of the sweater slings low, just above the rise of your chest. Marcus looks like he's experiencing this revelation in real time.

"Because." He blinks, then squeezes his eyes shut and settles back against the couch, his arms around your back and across your lap again. "Sex is made up of a lot of involuntary actions. I don't know what I'll be able to control and what I can't."

"Ooh, Marcus Moreno, leader of the Heroics, just said sex." You grin into his face, despite his disapproving glare. "Can you hear that? I think the Virgin Mother's ears are burning."

"I'm serious. This is very real —,"

You slide out from his grasp and ease into the cushion next to him. Take his hand in yours and gently squeeze it. You smile.

"Baby, before you do an abridged version of Twilight's 'as if you could outrun me' speech, I know you're serious. I know you're worried. But as a hero that's kind of your job. And it's my job as the intrepid reporter to tell you to do the thing you're scared of anyway."

That look of staunch determination melts when you put your hand on his cheek. His hands curve over your bare knees. "I think some of your sources might be biased in their opinion. A conflict of interest, and all that."

"Oh, my sources are very interested," you smirk as you slip his ear between your fingers, nose nearly brushing his. But your levity fades as you swipe your thumb over the corner of his mouth, a beautiful mouth that is so often turned down in worry, or concern, or anger. Every inch of you loves every inch of him, even down to the bristles of his beard. Every wrinkle and gray thread in his curly hair. "What makes you think we don't have all the time in the world to practice getting it right?"

His mouth slips open as you watch the question occur to him for the first time. A nebulous question he had never challenge or asked directly. Instead, with you by his side, his anxiety solidifies.

"I think I thought that we just didn't have that kind of time." It's an admission that releases him but turns your touch to iron. Immediately, his eyes fly to you and he grips your hand against his cheek as if he knew you were about to tear it away. "I mean, I think I thought that . . . that I'd somehow lose you too. That this kind of love isn't meant for me, nowhere near as lucky or deserving. I thought —," he swallows, hands dropping to your knees, then sliding with slow purpose, up the sides of your thighs. He breathes deeply, eyes tracking the way your shorts crinkle beneath his palms, as inches of skin are slowly revealed to him, resolve trickling like sand through his fingers. "I thought that if I loved you enough, someone would try to take you away from me. So I tried not to. But I can't. I can't stop loving you but I'm so afraid of hurting you, of hurting us that I —,"

It's colossal, this thing that sits in your chest and screams his name. It's unwieldy and too big to be put away, but it is determined. Determined to finally feel his love.

His head knocks back, teeth clashing against skin, from the force of your kiss, from the transference of your soul into his because you put everything, every feeling, every joy and fear and excitement, every ounce of love you can hold in your hands, into that kiss. Despite being a writer, you've never been good with words outloud, so this is how you tell him everything.

He doesn't push you away when you crawl into his lap, pinch his waist with your thighs, and roll your hips into him. This time it is different.

This time, his hips lift up into yours and the explosive pleasure is staggering. Gasping breath, temporarily jolted out of your mind.

You need it. You need it so fucking bad.

You dip back from him, hands curled around his shoulders, your shorts riding high, the fabric bunched against your wet pussy, and you watch his face fall as you drag your hips slowly, testing, over the seam of his jeans.

This time —

He pins you to him with two hands on your thighs as he meets you grind for grind, eyes, flickering, distracted between your shared intense gaze and the place where he grinds into you. The zipper catches the cloth over your clit and you whine quietly, high and muffled.

"Wh-what — what are we doing?" Marcus murmurs — the question bizarrely genuine — neither slowing down nor stopping the subtle drag of your hips over his. "Not that I don't like it but I — this —,"

"You're starting over, right?" Your voice is breathless, almost as startled as he looks. Marcus nods. "Then it's over the clothes stuff. I think the kids call it dry humping."

He nods, his eyes dropping shut when you roll higher up and he groans. "Y-yeah, but — fuck, there, that feels so fucking good —,"

It's about finding where you fit best against him, where desire crackles with intensity, instead of dripping like warm syrup. Your hands leave his shoulders, press flat against the couch on either side of his head, and watch the steady grind of your hips to his. He alternates between biting and licking your jaw, before dropping open-mouth kisses along your throat.

But the thing is you're not kids, no longer wayward teenagers, far from it, and you have something else in mind entirely.

You dip your hand between his legs, finding that hardening length and squeeze. Marcus lifts his head up from the couch, eyes wide, the press of his hands around your hip bones harsher than before.

"Stop," he says. "Stop, I'm gonna — I'm gonna come in my pants—,"

His grip is bruising now, borderline painful, but you don't stop, not now. Not when you need to know how far he can go. You squeeze him once more before returning to that slow, patient grind.

"Then don't, Marcus." You don't stop. And neither does he. Weakly, unsteady, he continues to rock up against you. "Don't come."

"Please —,"

"No. Control yourself. Show me your strength. Show me what I mean to you." With the swipe of your palm, you push his curls up across his forehead, the edges of his hairline damp. His eyes plead with you. They're nearly damp too. You lean down and gently lick his warm neck. Your lips curl by his ear and he shudders beneath you. "Show me your love."

A strained groan, his heaving chest, and he opens his eyes. A few more gulps of air, and . . . he settles. Then swallows.

Breathing hard, his thighs trembling slightly beneath your ass, Marcus looks up at you with complete and total adoration.

A love that overwhelms all else.

"There," he whispers. I did it, he doesn't. His fingers loosen their grip and you consider if it's possible to hide the incoming bruises. You know shame has no place here, not between the both of you, but he's going to feel some kind of way about seeing purple spots littering your skin.

You slow your grind, halting your hips over his, and you smile. You smile and run your fingers through his hair. He turns his face to your palm, like a reach towards the sun.

"That was good. So good." Marcus hums. "But you have to apologize to my couch."

"Huh?"

He lifts his hand and the white stuffing goes with it. Five wide holes, where he tore through the fabric and the cushion. "Fuck, your couch, I'm sorry, I'll replace that —,"

"That's right. Fuck my couch. You didn't hurt me. Everything in this place, and I mean everything, is replaceable. But you, this," you press your thumbs to the warmth of his cheeks, "is not. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Marcus nods. Slips his fingers under yours on his cheek and laces them together. "I do. I promise."

His mouth parts when you kiss him. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Now," you say, pushing up to waver over him, "let's take a break. I can come over tomorrow, and see if —,"

The hairs on your thighs, your arms, the back of your neck and in between your legs arch, a static, electric shock crackling in the air.

Marcus grins up at you.

"Not a chance, sweetheart."

"There's my good boy."

series masterlist | part ii

[actual-changeling]

some more season 6 angst, happy ending as always implied. i make them suffer cause otherwise where's the fun, so have another dose of pain.

tagging @today-in-fic

———

Scully doesn't know why they stopped screaming, but they both run out of breath and right into a silence. Her hands are shaking, her fingertips are turning cold, and her eyes are heavy with uncried tears. The few that did escape are roughly wiped away, and she wraps her arms around herself, tight and tighter until every inhale meets a wall of resistance.

She can't look at him, yet he is still looking at her across the expanse of his living room. Even barefoot and underdressed Mulder is still just as undecipherable as he was hours ago at his desk. Something within her chest cracked wide open the second he raised his voice, a wound she has no idea how to fix, and it feels like he can practically see her bleeding onto the wooden floor. Instead, there's only a slowly growing puddle of water forming around her as the rain drips from her coat.

She shouldn't have come over. She shouldn't have tried to talk to him again (and again, and again). She shouldn't have insisted on getting a response, everything else be damned. She shouldn't have cared as much as she did—does.

Scully doubts she could ever not care about him, and her bones ache with emptiness. Maybe they could have saved this, themselves, but Mulder refuses to move even an inch from where he has cemented himself in his beliefs. Just listen, she pleads silently, over and over. Just listen to me.

Weeks ago, she told him it's about trust.

It's still about trust, it always has been. Outside, it keeps raining, and the wind keeps violently shaking his windows loud enough to drown out her stuttering breaths. The seconds pass, and she watches through wet lashes as he turns away, back to her, away again, scrubbing his hands over his face and pacing on the spot.

"Scully—", she flinches, hard, and he stops. Mulder's eyes soften, and suddenly she misses him so much her knees almost buckle. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Her voice comes out rough, and when she wipes away more tears tumbling down her cheeks, she feels something inside of her nose break open. She still gets them sometimes, the nosebleeds. When she's stressed, in rough weather, after a hot bath, and now here, right in the middle of his apartment. Her fingers come back bloody, and Mulder's expression morphs into one she thought she'd never see again:

Horrified fear, so much fear, and she is so, so tired.

Swallowing a new bout of tears, she licks her lips, and her mouth tastes like copper and blame. Is it his fault? Not entirely, no, but she tried and tried and tried while he dropped her hand and walked away from her. A drop of blood runs down her chin and colours the rain on the floor a faint red; they both watch it happen, one with exhausted resignation, one with growing concern.

"Look what you did," she says quietly, and he blanches.

Scully realizes then that she needs to go home or she won't be leaving his apartment tonight. If she stays, she will break underneath his concern, she will forgive him as he cleans the dried blood off her face. Maybe he will quickly understand that she's not sick again and do nothing except kick her out. Maybe he will pick up where they left off when she was dying.

She'd let him. She will stay, and he will kiss her until she can't breathe, until she forgets about the phantom pain keeping her awake at night, until this moment is gone, forgotten, smudged like wet paint.

She can't. She wants to—god, does she want to—but she can't.

Instead she backs away slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. When she digs for the car keys in her pockets, she couldn't care less about the blood staining the fabric or the way they become slippery in her palms. Without making a sound, Mulder watches her go with his hands curled into fists, and she needs to know that he won't follow her.

(She needs to know he won't drive through the storm and knock on her front door. That he will no longer worry enough to pull out his keys and find her curled up on her couch. That he won't kneel on the carpet, brush his fingertips over her cheeks, and kiss her until she breaks. That she won't be tempted to kiss him back until they stumble into her bedroom and she burns and smoulders underneath him.

She needs to know that she can stare at the ghost in her mirror without being haunted by him.)

For that, he needs to know that she's fine; she needs to erase the thought of a deadline that chases him into her arms time and time again. Blindly, her hand finds the door and pulls it open, bathing her in bright, yellow light. Mulder takes a hesitant step towards her and she wipes at the remnants of gradually drying blood on her skin.

"I'm not sick, again, Mulder. It happens sometimes," she tells him with a voice softer than she expected it to be.

The corners of her mouth twitch and she gives him the hint of a smile because she can. Because he's her best friend even if she is no longer his. Because she loves him still. She could never not love him, and maybe he never stopped loving her either.

Mulder nods, swallows heavily, and she sees some of the fear bleed away. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she adds, "It didn't have to end this way."

It did, though.

It did, so she goes home.

[selkiechild4998]

✧°˖────———- ・・・・・ . ☽ ‧₊˚ ···╮

New Bat

╰┈ ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ・・・・———-────°˖✧

I'm on a roll today! Here's some more fics filling out my version of the Ministry's timeline!

TW- None

Genre- Slice of life with sprinkling of angst

Wordcount- 1,192 Words

AO3 Link- Here

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　⛧⃝　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

"I can't believe you're dragging me along for this," grumbled a not-so-happy fire ghoul as he walked with his Papa.

"You're the new pack leader, Dew," Copia gently reminded, "If I'm choosing a new ghoul for the project, I at least want your approval."

Dew scoffed softly at that, his torn and burnt ear fins pinned back against his head. The former water ghoul wasn't happy that a new ghoul was being brought into the pack, mostly because he knew the ghoul would take Aether's spot. He, Mountain, and Aether are bonded, being the only ghouls in the Ghost Project left from previous eras.

Only a handful of ghouls from previous eras remained. Ifrit was spared the Pit thanks to him being Secondo's adoptive son. Zypher, in turn, was allowed to stay because he's bonded with Ifrit. It was because of the Clergy's investment in Alpha that he was kept, despite all of his progress going down the drain when Secondo was killed, the once proud fire ghoul becoming almost a hermit in his grief. Omega just disappeared. Since the night of the Papas' murder, he had vanished, and no one has seen him since. And despite pulling the same disappearing act as Omega, Mist can sometimes be spotted near the lake. The other ghouls were sent to the Pit, while others were sent to abbies around the globe.

Dew was still hurting from the separation of his packmates. He had grown up around those ghouls, and he was now losing not only his pack leader but also one of the few ghouls he had left. Dew was so lost in his thoughts that he hardly realized he was about to walk into the closed door of the General Quarters of the Ghoul Den.

"Dew! Careful, Firefly," Copia winced, reaching out just in time to grab Dew by the shoulder and keep him from walking into the oak door. That action did earn him a hiss from the former water ghoul, causing him to put his hands up with an awkward, "Sorry, sorry. Forgot, no touch."

"Let's just get this over with," Dew grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

Copia frowned, part of him second-guessing himself on bringing Dew along, but there was no turning back now. He pushed open the doors, stepping inside as Dew followed after him.

Dew could feel the eyes of the ghouls present in the main foyer of the dorm-esk manor. He didn't recognize any present faces, but he expected that. He's been in the Band Quarters for so long.

"Where is this new kid?" Dew huffed as he walked with Copia.

"Upstairs with the other Quintessence Ghouls. He arrived about a week ago," That got Dew's ears to perk up in curiosity.

"Arrived? Did he come from another Abby?"

"Si," Copia nodded, "I believe he was born here but raised at the LA Abby."

The LA Abby? Now Dew was really interested. Ghouls from that Abby rival those here at the central Abby. Maybe this new kid won't be so bad? Perhaps they'll be like Omega, stoic and intimidating, or they'll be like Aether with a comforting presence despite his threatening frame. His eyes soon landed on the still bare door that must lead to the new ghoul's room.

"Remember, be nice, Dew," Copia reminded as the fire ghoul stood straight, holding his hands behind his back.

"Yes, Papa," Dew nodded, his tail giving a small flick as Copia knocked four times on the door before opening it.

"Hello? You're Phantom, si?"

The ghoul inside perked up at the sound of Copia's voice, looking up from where he was reading on his loft bed, and when Dew saw the ghoul, he pinned his ear fins flat against his head.

He could tell immediately that this ghoul was a runt. The quintessential ghoul is the smallest he has seen with lanky limbs. A pair of bat-like wings were tucked tightly against his back, his tail naturally curled at his side. His dark gray skin was decorated with splotches of milky white skin, with it being concentrated around his left eye, turning it red. Dew's nose even wrinkled under his mask at the runt's scent. He smelt nothing like the Pit. Instead, he smelt more like a human than a ghoul but still has the slight scents of chemicals on him, similar to Aether's scent.

"Yes, that's me," Phantom answered, setting his book aside and hopping down from his bed, "D-Do you need something, Papa?"

"Si, I wanted to introduce you to my pack's leader, Dewdrop," Copia smiled as he gestured to Dew.

Dew stayed quiet, looking this Phantom up and down before letting out a chuff. It was expected that the younger ghoul would respond, as it was the most common greeting amongst ghouls. He didn't expect Phantom to reach a hand out towards him with a nervous smile and a "Nice to meet you, Sir."

"…Hi," Dew tilted his head to the side, halfheartedly shaking Phantom's hand.

"Dew, here is the lead ghoul for the Ghost Project," Copia smiled as he explained, "He ensures the other ghouls involved with the project behave and are protected."

Dew watched Phantom's ears perked in interest, his nervousness melting away as he listened to Copia's praises of him. Usually, he'd let all this praise go to his head, but he kept his focus on the younger ghoul. Of all the quintessence ghouls brought to the Ministry, why would Copia focus on this runt? What could he bring to the pack?

"I look forward to seeing you thrive here at our Ministry," Copia smiled, "I'll have Aether come and give you a more detailed tour of the grounds."

"Yes, Papa," Phantom nodded, his spaded tail wagging back and forth.

"Oh, you don't have to call me by my title. Copia does just fine."

Phantom nodded, giving a lopsided smile as he brushed his messy black and white hair away from his face, "Ok, Pa- Copia," He quickly corrected himself.

Copia chuckled softly, patting the ghoul on his shoulder, "Take care, Phantom. Dew, come," He chirped out, turning to leave the room.

Dew was quiet, keeping his eyes on Phantom as Copia left the room. The mask he wore kept his unamused expression hidden as Phantom looked at him with a boyish smile. It has a charm to it, not that Dew would admit it. He didn't return the smile, huffing softly through his nose before turning and leaving the room, trailing after Copia. Ignoring how Phantom's smile faded to a confused frown and tilt of his head.

"So, how do you like him?" Copia asked when Dew returned to his side.

"No," Dew shortly answered.

"Huh?"

"I don't want him in the pack," Dew growled, "The kid's a runt. He wouldn't survive his first tour stop."

"Dew, he'll do just fine," Copia huffed softly.

"I still don't want him in the pack."

"Alright, alright," Copia huffed, "We'll see what the Clergy will say."

Dew grumbled softly but dropped it. He was confident that the Clergy wouldn't choose that ghoul, there's so many other options.

Who would choose that baby bat?

[neteyamssyulang]

✷ Reckoning Escape ✷

✷ Pairing: So’lek x Fem sarentu reader ✷

✷ Summary: What was once a peaceful day turned out to be the worst, now having to not only protect yourself, but your two children aswell.

✷ Warnings: Angst, Mentions of birth, mentions of death, Protective parents, bit of a happy ending.

✷ Word count: 3,621 ✷

✷ Translation(s): Tsne ma hì'i fa'ìla -> Shh my little angels, Yawne -> Beloved, Sa’nu -> Mom, Paskalin -> Honey, Sempul -> Father, Tsmuke -> Sister, Kehe -> No, Ma’Itan -> My son, Pefya kom nga -> How dare you, Mawey -> Calm.

✷ A/N: The second longest fic I’ve ever written 🫶🏼

✷ Tagging: @ikeyniofthetayrangi @itchaboi-itchyboy @aria-tempest @anemonelovesfiction @bambithewriter @kia-wolfie @sinful-tawtute

The roaring wind was deafening, drowning out all other sounds, but you knew they were there.

Your lungs burned, your arms felt like they were going to give out but you kept pushing on, you had to get your little ones to safety.

Small sobs pricked at your ears,"Tsne ma hì'i fa'ìla" you spoke softly holding your baby's closer. Your son An'tari and daughter Ona'te were only 8 years apart but yet inseparable. An'tari was the firstborn of you and your mate So'lek, followed by the baby Ona'te.

You gave So'lek what he always wanted, a family. And now the humans were trying to take it from him just like they took his clan, leaving him with nothing.

It's why your on the run now, they had somehow found the campsite where you all lived. What was once a beautiful home now lays in nothing but ash and dust.

So'lek was gone at the time, having to help out at the base. A part of you is happy he's still ok but another part is ill, what is he to think when he goes home and finds it in ruins, with no sign of his mate and children?

As much as you wanted to cry and give up, you couldn't. You had to be strong for your little ones.

-Flashback-

-August 5th, 2170-

After countless hours of pushing your son had finally been born. So'lek sat beside you, admiring the little baby you held in your arms.

The smile So'lek had was starting to hurt but he didn't care, eywa had given him a blessing. She gave him you, and now a beautiful son.

"He looks just like you yawne" you smiled, your heart felt so full at the moment like it was about to burst from adoration.

So'lek chuckled "He does doesn't he? What should we name the little one?", thinking for a second you finally spoke "An'tari"

-Present time-

You had managed to find a small cave that would hopefully be safe to stay in. Despite being drenched from the rain, your footsteps were silent like a palulukan.

Quickly you found a small spot at the back placing your two children down, An'tari immediately rushed to pick up his baby sister so she wouldn't cry, her little tail coiling around his small wrist.

Leaning down you placed a kiss atop both their heads "Be good my darlings, sa'nu won't take long I promise just stay hidden", An'tari nodded slowly "Yes sa'nu."

Smiling softly you made your way back out the cave in search of food along with something you could use for a fire.

-Flashback-

-October 17th, 2178-

The fire crackled as you layed back against your mate, An'tari was fast asleep on your lap while you held your newborn Ona'te.

She was so beautiful, almost a resemblance of you. "You did so well paskalin, thank you" he murmured kissing the nape of your neck.

You giggled softly "For what yawne?", So'lek chuckled wrapping his tail around your thigh "For giving me a family, i never thought it'd be possible but you never cease to amaze me" he spoke, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck now inhaling your scent.

This was a moment you never wanted to end, you finally had a family with the most wonderful mate anyone could've ever ask for.

-Present time-

You had only managed to find small twigs, maybe two good rocks and a whole skinned hexapede. Bringing it back to the cave was a hassle but you managed it.

The fire you did first so your children would be warm, your oldest scooted closer sighing in relief as the warmth flooded to him and his sister.

While you began preparing the food Ona'te had woken up, her cries echoing off the cave walls as An'tari tried calming her.

After a few minutes she was quiet, fast asleep once more. "Mama?" An'tari spoke, watching as you cooked.

Without talking your eyes off the fire you hummed "Yes darling?", Your son shifted so he was beside you now "Will we ever see sempul again?"

Your heart dropped at his words, truth be told you didn't know. You had no way of communicating as your com had been burned in the fire. "I don't know baby.. we can only hope eywa is on our side"

An'tari nodded, small tears spilling from his golden orbs. Once the meat was done you took it off the fire slicing it with your dagger that was already out.

Everything was finished now, turning to your son you patted your thigh for him to come sit which he obliged.

Bringing a piece of the hexapede meat to your lips, you gently blew on it then brought it down to your son slowly feeding him. You were hungry yourself yes but your children came first, once Ona'te awakened you'd feed her aswell.

Deeming An'tari was full you kissed the top of his head "Rest now ma'itan, ill take over with your sister."

The boy nodded handing Ona'te to you before moving off your thigh opting to lay close to the fire. You smiled down at your little girl, eywa had really blessed you and your mate with beautiful and wonderful children.

Now thinking of your mate, your heart felt like arrow heads were piercing it. You missed him dearly, missed his calming presence, his soothing voice. How he must feel right now not knowing whether or not his family is alive.

Tears now freely streamed down your face, you hated those pesky humans, hated how they were trying to destroy your family.

You didn't even realize your daughter had awoken till her little hand grabbed onto the small braids that dangled in your face. Her little smile and cooes bringing a small smile to your face.

Knowing you were gonna have to feed her, you began slowly eating the rest of the cooked hexapede while Ona'te gurgled watching you.

Just as you were finished eating she began getting fussy, you moved to lay against the wall behind An'tari while lifting your feathered top up, Ona'te immediately latched onto one of your nipples suckling on it.

While your daughter was feeding, you tried coming up with a plan in order to get back to the resistance base. It was a very long walk back but there was nowhere else to go, you had no choice.

The storm still hadn't let up, the trees swayed with it threatening to break. Ona'te finished eating, falling fast back asleep curled up in your arms, with your free hand you moved your top back into place.

As much as you wanted to sleep you had to stay alert, you couldn't risk something happening to your babies.

-So'lek's POV-

What was once a peaceful day turned out to be the worst, it was as if eywa was cursing him. So'lek was on his way back home, small gifts in hand for you and his children when he stopped in his tracks.

Everything was gone. You were gone, your children were gone, all that was left was a pile of ash and dust. So'lek fell to his knees dropping the gifts, first his clan now his family? What did he ever do to deserve this?

No, he refused to believe it, he refused to believe his family had perished. Rage now fumed him, the humans could do whatever they wanted to him but his family? Eywa they messed up big time.

-Your POV-

The fire had long been put out, you and your son huddled back into a corner trying to stay out of view from a few soldiers that had found your hiding spot.

This can't be happening, how did they find you? There were no tracks since the rain washed them away.

One of the soldiers chuckled looking at the small fire you had used prior to them finding the cave "Looks like someone has been here, better let the big guy know."

As they were walking out, Ona'te sneezed in her sleep, the soldiers halted in their steps "And they never left" another spoke, you could almost see the smirk on his face.

Your ears pinned back against your skull, looking down at your son you saw how scared he looked, how he clinged onto your leg muffling his sobs.

Tapping on his back you waited for him to look at you then gestured to his sister, picking up the hint he carefully took her into his arms. You gave them both a kiss on the forehead before walking out of the corner holding your hands up in surrender.

"Well well, if it isn't y/n" one spoke,"Mercer will be glad we found you" another added on. You hissed unsheathing your dagger "I would rather die than go back to that asshole!"

The soldiers exchanged a look before laughing "And what of your offspring?" You had failed to notice one of the soldiers sneaking behind you towards where your children were hiding.

"Kehe! Sa'nu!" An'tari shouted, thrashing in the soldiers hold while keeping his sister close to him. No..no this wasn't supposed to happen! The soldier brought them to the head one who's name was Lyle.

Lyle reached for Ona'te but withdrew once An'tari hissed at him "Fiesty children, must get it from their mother" he laughted, signaling for two soldiers to come and hold the child still.

You lunged at them but immediately stopped in your tracks when a gun was pointed to your sons head "I would advise you don't move y/n. You see, Mercer is quite upset that you’re still alive. You were never meant to live, much less start a family.

Tears threatened to fall but he was right though. Mercer ordered you and the rest of the Sarentu kids dead years ago, if it wasn't for Alma then you wouldn't be here right now.

Lyle smiled wickedly seeing his words having affect on you, leaning down he grabbed Ona'te from An'tari's arms, rolling his eyes when she started crying.

"Please! Do not hurt my children, they are innocent!" You begged him, Ona'te looked towards where your voice was coming from, her small hands making grabby motions at you "S-sa'n-u" she spoke.

One of your hands moved to cover your mouth, her first word.. you only wished it was under better circumstances.. An'tari beemed happily for a second before going back to squirming.

"Oh? Baby's first word huh?" One soldier chuckled, "Such a shame it will be her last aswell" he raised his gun pointing it at your daughter.

Whether it be your motherly instincts or just pure rage, you had enough of this. Before the soldiers could react, you grabbed Ona'te and An'tari, rushing out of the cave back into the pouring rain.

An'tari held onto you while trying to shield his sister from the rain, your ears twitched trying to pick up any sound over the storm.

Pushing yourself further, you could feel your heart thumping, threatening to jump out of your chest. Gunshots now rang in the air sounding closer and closer with each passing minute.

Finally after what seems like hours, the base appears in the distance, relief floods over you till a gunshot rings in the air and a hot searing pain travels through your right leg.

Those bastards actually shot you, ignoring the pain you kept pushing yourself till another gunshot split the air. Your vision went hazey as you fell to the forest floor, An'tari quickly picked up his sister who rolled from your arms crying.

"Sa'nu!" He screamed rushing over, there was blood pouring from your right side as well as your leg. You tried getting up but felt too weak "Ma'Itan.." you spoke softly looking at him "Go..take your sister, the base is just up ahead.."

The boy shook his head "I'm not leaving you sa'nu!" You gave a weak smile, lifting your hand to place it on his cheek "I will be fine, please my darling get to safety."

Sniffling he placed a soft kiss on your head before running towards the base keeping his sister close to him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

-So’lek’s POV-

So'lek hissed at everyone who blocked his path leading to outside, "So'lek, So'lek, I know your upset but you don't even know where they are" Ri'nela tried explaining placing her hand on his shoulder.

His tail trashed behind him, "Out of my way! I do not care I will find them.” Shoving the rest of them, he made his way outside, starting to walk through the forest till a small figure caught his eye.

"Sempul!" The figure screamed. So'lek quickly ran realizing it was his son, but fear took place when a gunshot sounded and An'tari fell, still cradling Ona'te in his arms.

"Ma’Itan!" He shouted. Upon reaching his son, So'lek was relieved to know he was still alive with just a minor injury to his thigh. He picked up his son and daughter brushing the leaves and mud off them "Where is your sa’nu?"

An'tari whimpered, "Bad men hurt sa'nu, shot her, she told me to run and get to the base."

So'lek's heart dropped instantly. Fuming, he stood up pressing the com around his neck with his free hand "Nor, come now! There is no time to waste!"

Quickly he took off back to base meeting Nor halfway, Nor carefully took An’tari in his arms, trying to hold back his own anger when seeing his wound.

"Be good for uncle Nor ok?" So’lek spoke gently ruffling his sons hair before turning his attention to his daughter, still in her brothers arms. “Keep your tsmuke safe.”, "Yes sempul" the boy nodded.

He watched as Nor began running back to base before running back towards the direction his son was coming from.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

Your face was stained with your tears as the soldiers crowded around your body, "We have a little surprise for you darling" one spoke, grinning mischievously.

You were too weak to care about that, all you cared about was if your children made it to safety. The circle of soldiers parted letting a single man through, your eyes narrowed at who it was.

Mercer smiled, "Ah y/n, so good to see you again." He crouched down infront of you, "I hear you have a family now, see that won't do."

Lifting your head you gave a weak hiss,"Oh cmon you can do better than that" he signaled for a solder to stand behind you. The soldier lifted one of his legs before stomping down onto your wounded side making you scream in pain.

"There ya go" Mercer chuckled clapping his hands. "This is how it was always meant to be, with you and the rest of those students dead."

He was about to continue when an arrow hit one of the soldiers killing them instantly, "Who's there?!" Mercer shouted into the darkness. You knew through.

Another arrow flew, hitting the two soldiers that were close together. More and more went flying till Mercer was the only one still alive and standing, your body felt as if it was on fire now despite it being cold as hell from the rain.

Frustrated, he turned his back looking at you now. Big mistake, a gunshot rang through the air hitting him in the left side, Mercer groaned falling down.

So'lek jumped down from his perch in the trees, stalking towards the humam. "Pefya kom nga!" So'lek hissed, shooting him in the right side this time, just as they did you.

Mercer just laughed as he coughed up blood, "You think this will all end once i'm dead? You're wrong." Annoyed, So'lek shot him in the head, shutting him up completely.

Carefully he picked you up, beginning to run back to base. "T-the chil-dren.." you murmured drifting in and out of consciousness.

He frowned, "They are ok" he spoke, purposefully leaving out about An'tari being injured. You nodded weakly, still trying to hold on for the sake for your mate and children.

By the time So'lek had made it back to the base, you were unconscious from how much blood you lost. The tawtute doctors took you from his arms and into the medical room, he tried to follow but they wouldn't allow it.

So he opted to sitting in the lounge area, hopefully waiting for good news about either you or his son. Ri'nela had at some point joined him, holding Ona'te in her arms "You know, I heard from Nor that At'ari said she spoke her first word"

So'lek's ears pricked as he moved his gaze to Ri'nela,"S-she did?" Now looking at his little girl who stared back at him cooing. Ri'nela nodded handing her over to him, "She said sa'nu"

Even though he was hoping she said sempul first, he was still happy his daughter finally spoke. He only wished he had heard it.

Ri'nela noticed his ears pinning back and a scowl tugging at his lips "Hey hey, I know you missed it but atleast they are back now. Your mate is strong, so are your children."

With that she stood up walking back to Nor and the others.

So'lek watched as his daughter giggled grabbing onto one of his fingers, her little hand barely able to wrap around it.

Close to 4 hours have passed with no word about you, he was happy his son was alright but the doctors had said nothing regarding you. So'lek only thought of the worst.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

-Flashback-

-January 25th, 2163-

You laughed as So'lek chased after you, his own laughs pricking at your ears. Eventually he caught up to you tackling you to the forest floor.

"Gotcha paskalin!" He smiled looking down at you "Cheater" you huffed pouting."It is not cheating just because I am faster than you little one" he chuckled placing a soft kiss against your lips.

Immediately you melted into the kiss pulling him down, closer to you. He broke the kiss after a bit to trail kisses from your jaw down to the neck licking a stripe along it "Eywa knows how thankful I am for you y/n" he spoke softly leaning up a bit to look at you.

All you could see in his eyes was the love and adoration he held for you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

-Present time-

One of the doctors eventually came out stating you had made it but had to stay there so they could monitor how your doing.

So'lek wasted no time in rushing in, walking to the large bed you layed on, another doctor had brought An'tari in placing the boy gently onto the bed before leaving you all alone.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, vision slightly blurry till you regained focus. Your gaze landing on your mate and children, An'tari was quick to crawl up the bed towards you snuggling into your chest sobbing.

"Ma'itan.. what is wrong?" You cooed rubbing his back softly, So'lek moved till he was right beside you holding Ona'te in his arms still.

An'tari refused to speak just wanting to hold his mother, eventually crying himself to sleep. You frowned looking at your mate "I'm so sorry Ma'Lek.."

So'lek tilted his head crouching down "Sorry for what yawne? You protected both them and yourself with everything."

You shook your head sobbing quietly "If that were true I would not be here and our son would not be injured", So'lek's eyes widened, how did you find out? He purposefully kept it from you so you wouldn't worry and could relax while he handled it.

Looking down at your son still asleep in your arms you grit your teeth "The doctors mentioned it to me when I woke earlier, how could you not tell me our son was shot?!"

So'lek looked away, his ears flattened against his head "I'm sorry paskalin, you were badly injured I did not want you to worry and risk something."

Your gaze softened "You do not get to decide that for me, no more hiding things please.." So'lek nodded leaning down to place a kiss on your lips "I am so sorry I was not there to protect you all though."

Lifting your left hand up you placed it on the back of his head bringing him closer till your foreheads touched "Mawey, no one knew what was going to happen."

He nodded pulling away, you could now see tears rolling down his face. It was at that moment aswell that Ona'te had woken up, her small cooes filling the room as she stretched in her fathers arms yawning.

So'lek looked down at his daughter who smiled at him "Se-sepul" she giggled before looking around the room, her gaze now on you.

You chuckled looking from her to your mate "It was close to it, but she still said mama first", your mate huffed rolling his eyes playfully "Guess we'll just have to have another then yawne" he smirked winking.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

Four months have passed now, you'd been released from the base and now are home with your family, your new home wasn't as big as the last but you didn't care as long as you had your mate and children.

True to his words you also wound up pregnant, about maybe 3 weeks along. So'lek had never left you or the kids out of his sight, not even for a second. He feared if he did something would happen.

Honestly you didn't mind it, not one bit. An'tari had healed quickly and began practicing shooting arrows with his father while you and little Ona'te took small naps here and there waiting for them to finish.

You could only hope that now you all were safe.

[thequeenreaders]

pet's tease.

➵ sebastian stan/f! chubby reader

sebastian's darling decided to be a naughty tease since he won't give her the attention that she wanted.

realm: mobster! seb, explicit smut, established relationship

caution: my old writing was ass (still is), profanity, slight ooc, mild angst, small injuries, tease, strip teasing, explicit smut, rough, daddy kink, praise kink, oral (both), cream pie, body appreciation, fluff, pet names, aftercare

length: 4,0k

notations: this is my first time to write a mob! sebby fic and i hope that you gois will like it...? i might try chris evans fic soon, so imma study him and hope that i can come up with at least, a good idea. be safe and don't forget to wash your hands! 🍑❤ (c/d) is color of dress, (e/c) is eye color, (p/c) is pet of choice, and (d/d) is desired destination.

index

(Y/N) crossed her arms as she stood there on her husband's office doorway and watched him skim through a bunch of scattered papers on his desk and data from his tablet. It has only been two weeks since Sebastian dicked you down but being the horny bastard you are, you are craving for him to just destroy your coochie. Just remembering how he would rip your clothes in half, tied you up, tease you for eternity, roam his large hands around your plump body, whisper dirty nothings into your ear as he hammered you, sent shivers down to your spine and felt tingles down south. However, it seems like Seb won't be doing those for a while as he is occupied with something.

You've been standing there for about five minutes and Seb didn't even spare you a glance. Your lips formed into a pout and walked towards him, his attention pulled back for a second when he heard footsteps. Alerted, he grabbed his gun from a drawer, but when he saw that it's just you in a cute flowy dress with a grumpy look, his stance immediately relaxes and slump back on his comfortable office chair, a grin making its way on his face and stretched out his arms, "Hey baby girl, come here and sit on my lap."

(Y/N) doesn't need to be told twice and straight away sat on his lap, getting comfortable and making sure that she's not hurting Seb with her weight, which he doesn't really mind, "You look so cute in this dress that I bought you," he took a good look again and bit his bottom lip, loving how the (C/D) color compliments your skin tone and he gazed a little longer on your cleavage, "Do you need anything, sugar?"

You huffed and he placed his hands on your curvy waist, still holding his gun but you don't feel threatened by it, "You've been so busy lately," you murmured, not looking at him in the eye as you played with his loose shirt and Sebastian sighed. He is, in fact, busy taking down another mob and thought that it will be a piece of cake until he found out that it's not just an ordinary mob, a feared and known man named Frank Grillo planned out devious actions to their town. It is such a big deal that it involved other leaders such as Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Scarlett Johansson, and more. Knowing that it will be hard to take Grillo down, Seb is certain that it will take a few weeks to solve the issue.

"I know, baby, but this ain't just a plain mission that I have to take care of. So it might take a little longer than a week." He explained as he tosses his handgun on the desk and gently grabbed your face, making you look at him with your chubby cheeks squished a bit. He chuckled at your expression, "Tell you what, when this is all over, we can go and do whatever you want, or maybe a trip to a place you've always wanted to visit."

Your face lits up at his offers, excitement bubbling up in your body, "Really?" You wanted to make sure that he wasn't joking because you really wanted to go out of town for a while, just thinking about exploring another place brings you joy. When he hummed in agreement and seeing no signs of banter on his face, you squealed in delight and engulfed him in a warm hug, feeling his strong biceps returning the hug as well, "Thank you, Sebby!" You said and gave him a kiss, swallowing his chuckles and it started to get heated up as you slowly reached the first button of his blouse while his hands slipped under your dress to touch your full ass and gripped it, smiling smugly when he felt that you only have panties on. You yelped when he gave you a good, big spank and eased the sting afterward by caressing it.

Both of you pulled away from the lack of oxygen, staring into each other's eyes and you smirked at where this is going, "You look so fucking good," he muttered and went to kiss and suck your neck when his phone rang, causing the couple to groan in annoyance. Seb grabbed his phone to answer, not bothering to read the ID caller, and harshly said, "What?!"

(Y/N) sat there and watched him interact with whoever he's calling and by the looks of it, the pressure of the assignment just added more to his stress and palmed his face with his other hand. As the call finally ended, she looked at him empathetically and brushed his soft hair with her hand, "I guess you should do your thing now, sorry for disturbing you though." She said and he let out a tired exhale, hoping that they can catch the rascal sooner, "Since you're doing mostly everything, I will cook your food and maybe help you in the assignment." You suggested with a sweet smile that he can't help but smile back, despite being worn out.

"You're the best fucking wife ever, have I told you that? Keeping me sane from these shitty missions." He told in a drowsy tone, his eyes almost closing and you giggled, lifting yourself from his lap and smoothen your dress, "You've already told me that many times, silly. Now, go do your work while I prepare dinner." You softly planted your lips on his forehead and hoped for the best before heading to the door and left his office, leaving him in a lovey-dovey feeling while you were not only thinking of dinner but also some filthy teasing for him in the following days.

After a few days, Sebastian and the team realized that they basically have everything to take down this guy, so all they have to do is trace all of his bases across the city, hack the system, and eliminate them without causing any harm to other citizens, simple as it sounds but will take longer as it usually does. With their much-advanced technologies, it is nothing compared to Grillo's and they are now determined to finish their business in a day or two.

On the other hand, you have finally thought of ideas on how you're gonna make your husband get sexually frustrated and get him riled up when his business is done. For the warm-up, you prepared breakfast and set them on a tray, bringing them upstairs to his office because he ended up sleeping on the couch. Ignoring the looks and smirks from the bodyguards, you balanced the tray with your other hand and hip and opened the door, carefully pushing it wider and entered the room, closing the room with your foot. Your eyes landed on Sebastian who was still sleeping so you headed to the side of his desk and placed the tray full of food there.

You quietly approached him and held your laughter when he snored loudly, his mouth slightly open and drool slowly going down to his jaw. Before it happened, you lightly shake him from his slumber and he flinched, wiping the saliva off his chin and cleared his vision by rubbing his eyes. He looked up and saw you standing there, his sight still quite unclear, "Morning, Seb. I guessed you had a good sleep, huh?" Chuckling, you grabbed the coffee from the tray and offered it to him, warning him that it's hot.

"Morning, sweetheart. Thanks." He mumbled and blew it before taking a sip, feeling very relieved when the warmness of his drink flowed down to his body, "Definitely, because I dreamt of you."

Playfully rolling your eyes at his cheekiness, you were about to say something when at last, he looked up from his coffee and his face went into a surprise one, eyeing you up and down, "(Y/N), what are you wearing?" He said, his tone turning into serious and waited for your response, thinking of any possible answer as to why you decided to only wear a crop top and lace panties.

You looked down at your clothes, seeing that there was no problem with it and looked back at him in confusion, feigning innocence, "I'm just wearing what I usually wear, honey. What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?" His look that he's giving you right now is so territorial that it nearly made your panties wet, and how his voice sounds firm yet calm showed that he's holding back his anger, "You're only wearing a fucking crop top and panties, you fucking let those guards see you in this?" His mug was no longer in his hands as he stood up from his sofa and proceed towards you, trapping you with his hands on the sides of the desk, eyeing your face as if you're planning something on him.

Indeed, you are.

You sighed, doing your best to act because knowing your husband is observant, it will ruin your plan, "Sebastian, this isn't the first time I did this and you were fine with it. Why this time is different?" You countered back and it was his turn for him to exhale, looking away from you and forming up the words in his mind before letting them out.

"Sorry baby, I-I just... I haven't been able to feel you for a while and it's getting to me that you'll get bored and find something else to entertain you when I want to be the only one to pleasure you." He admitted and hid his face on your neck, sniffing your scent and made a tiny groan on how good you smell.

You giggled at his confession and gave him a kiss on his cheek, "Don't worry, Sebby. You're the only one." You whispered, reassuring him and giving him a small smile while your mind was twerking because you haven't fucked up and got the exact reaction you wanted.

You sighed in relief as you got yourself comfortable on your Intex Canopy Island floatie and be mindful to not spill your drink which is on the holder. It was a bit cloudy outside and you decided that it's the perfect time to ease yourself at the swimming pool that Sebastian bought for you for your birthday two years ago. He was taking you to a trip to his homeland, Romania, for 6 months to let the engineers build it without you knowing and made sure that he perfectly timed everything to be finished before your birthday.

He also bought you some cute floaties to decorate the pool, new dresses, jewels, food, and many more. You swore that Seb will do everything to make you happy, especially if the cause of your happiness is him. You discussed to him about spending too much money on you but of course, he wouldn't listen and still spoil you to death.

You are wearing your favorite black bikini and secretly borrowed Seb's dark tinted glasses that he was supposed to wear today and it is part of your plan for him to find it, but it didn't take him too long to figure out when you saw him entered the terrace of his office with his arms crossed and staring straight down at you. You just giggled and gave him a small wave as you slowly opened your legs wider for him to see. He was wearing the suit that he usually wears for his missions and buckled up with handguns, magazines, and knives. Gazing at how sexy and dominant he looks, you couldn't help but inch your hand closer to your bikini panties and moved it slightly to the side, giving him a small peek of your honeypot.

He saw what you were doing and went back to his office, heading to the swimming pool and steadily walk towards you, keeping an eye on you as you used the water to make your way to him. You flashed him a pure smile and sat down on your knees, seeing his eyes ogling your entire body makes you feel so confident and like a queen!

"What do you think you're doing, Mrs. Stan?" He questioned and kneeled down on one knee, "I believe that you have something that belongs to me."

"Which one?" Your response made him snickered.

"The glasses, sweetie. Besides, why would you hide your beautiful eyes?" He gently took the glasses from you and showed your alluring (E/C) orbs, that is silently telling him to kiss you. He hung the glasses on the collar of his shirt and cupped your face with his hands, "So pretty..." He muttered and brought his face closer to yours, your lips connecting. You just kept your hands on your lap while his hands were about to cup your sex and you stopped him from getting too aroused, detaching yourself from the kiss and you see his face kind of disappointed and rejected, "Baby, I don't want you to get excited when you have a business to take care of, you'll get distracted and I don't want you to get hurt."

His brow almost raised in suspicion. Minutes ago, you were giving him a small show and seems to enjoy teasing him, but now you were all worried about him getting a cut, "Well, you better stop teasing me, darling, or else you might not get this cock that you're desperate for a long time because of your naughtiness." He leaned in, his nose touching yours as he whispered those words and you quivered below him, "Understand, babygirl?"

You gulped, "Yes, daddie..."

"Good girl. Now, it's time for me to go," he said as he stood up and wore his tinted glasses, "The guards will keep you protected and just message me if something happened, alright?"

You nodded and granted him a small smile, "Of course, stay safe, Sebby. Love you." Even though he already warned you about your mischievousness, it's not enough to stop you from doing the last show you're gonna pull off.

Looking at herself in the mirror one last time, you gave yourself a blowing kiss and giggled excitedly, reminding yourself to act calm and seductive as you put on your matching robe to at least hide the new lingerie you've been waiting to wear for this special day. You took a pill, applied your perfume that Sebastian loves to smell on you, and made sure that every look is fixed.

They finally murdered the mob and destroyed the rest of his crew and his base, and now they're planning to have a party on Chris's place to celebrate their victory. And a day after that, you and Sebastian scheduled a flight, using his private jet, to (D/D) for a month.

You set out in the direction of Seb's office, taking no notice of the guards you passed by again and you quietly placed your left ear to hear what he's doing. He was talking to someone on the phone and heard him chuckle, quite not understanding what few of the muffled words so you pressed your ear harder on the thick wooden door and you finally heard a clear sentence, "Yeah, sure. Me and (Y/N) will definitely like to attend, she misses Dodger, you know. I'm planning to buy her a (P/C) to keep her company whenever I'm gone."

You covered your mouth in shock as you prevent yourself from jumping in excitement and hug the fuck out of your hubby, thus you took a deep breath and got all your act together. You quietly turned the knob and pushed it wide open enough for you to enter. You spotted your Sebby, who is still on the phone with Chris and sitting at the center of the sofa with his arm resting on the crest rail, and you used that as an advantage to take your time to approach him while he hasn't noticed. You were close to him when he had seen you and mouthed, "Hi, babe!"

You offered him a suggestive smile and he took note of it immediately, thinking that you're intending on something, "Definitely, we would love to see that." He continued talking on the phone as he gave you a questioning look and you sat on his lap, the second you untie your robe and let it fall off your shoulders, he almost chokes on his own breath.

You smirked as you leaned in and started to plant sensual kisses on his neck, making him almost forget about the phone call, "Y-yeah, I'll never forget about that- fuck..." He grumbled when you began to grin on his semi-hard cock, itching to just remove every piece of clothing he has right now. As if you read his thoughts, you unbuttoned his shirt and revealed his sturdy chest, roaming your hand on his pecks and played with his nipples a bit, and then kiss your way down, kissing every scar that is present on his body until you halted at the belt.

You looked at him in the eye while you unbuckled his belt and threw it at the side, eager to take it out and finally taste it again. Your eyes widened as soon as his incredibly hard dick sprung free, causing Sebastian to bite back his groan, "Y-yeah, shit... Sorry, I was a bit d-distracted." You knew that Seb was struggling to keep up what Chris was saying so you licked up to his tip and began sucking him all in, deepthroating a few times and careful to not make a loud noise.

"Urgh, fuck!" He gripped his hair and couldn't hold it anymore, "Hey, Chris, sorry to end this call but something happened to (Y/N) and I need to take care of her." He glared at you, ready to put you on your place, and you just smiled and continued to bob your head up and down on his cock.

He ended the call with a short 'Bye' and threw his phone at the side of the sofa as he stood up, instantly locking his fingers with your hair and held on to it, removing your hands from his shaft and grasped both of your wrists in one hand behind your back, "Oh no, darling. You won't be able to do things your way, no no..." He breathly chuckled and pushed your head further down his cock, the tip hitting your throat and your toes curled, feeling your pussy get wet from getting dominated, "You've been teasing me for the past few days and I've. Had. Enough. Of. It!" He gave a thrust to each last words he said.

Your saliva is dripping out of your mouth and his boner is slick enough to slip inside you. He then pulled off of you and easily placed you on the sofa, pushing your legs apart and caught the sight of your barely covered cunt, the front bottom of the lingerie wet with your slick, "Look at what we have here," he quietly said and pressed his nose to your mound, smelling your juice and he growled, moving the lingerie to the side, "Fucking hell." He then plops his face at your sex and sucked it like a starving man.

You gasped, your legs wiggling in pleasure and Seb placed both of his hands at the back of your knees and pushed it towards you, "Oooh daddie, you're so good!" You moaned when he moved his face up and down and side to side, his light stubble beard tickled you closer to your climax and the slurping sounds made you turn on even more. Of course, Sebastian didn't grant you to cum as he pulled away and you whined in protest, desperate for a release. He shuts you up by smashing his lips to yours, both of your tongue moving in sync and tasting each other from one's mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you felt his rough hands gripped your thighs and effortlessly lifted you up from the sofa, not breaking the kiss until he knelt down and gently placed you on the soft rug floor.

"I'm gonna fuck you on this floor," he huskily said as he hooked his arms with your thicc legs and scooted you closer to his, his cock lightly poking your coochie and you almost came, that's how sensitive you are. He aligned his pelvis at your entrance and carefully went inside you, the pair moaning at how his length stretches your tightness and doesn't stop until every inch is inside, "'This cunt is fucking mine."

You whined at Sebastian, wanting him to fuck you already, "Daddie, please! I wanna cum!" You tried to grind but he held your hips tight and straight away started to pound into you mercilessly, your mouth shaping into 'O' and looked for something to hold onto to but found nothing but his strong arms, scratching his sleeves and causing wrinkles but no one cares at this point. As you were about to cum, he suddenly pulled out and quickly flipped you on all fours, slipping his dick right back in and continue on hammering your pussy, "Yes, yes, yes, daddie! I'm so close, please let me cum! Please?!" You sobbed when he gripped a fistful of your hair and pulled you back until your back hits his chest, his other hand taking out your ample breasts from the lingerie and taking one of them in his hand, bend down and latched onto your nipples, your arm snaked back around his neck.

He growled and his pace got faster than before, "Go ahead, little doll. You gotta cum on this fat cock, huh? Your needy pussy always belongs to me, isn't that right, princess?" He whispered against your ear and you screamed, "YES, DADDIE!" You finally came, your eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he keep hammering your tender cunt and you felt his breath getting a bit ragged.

He groaned and lightly bit your earlobe, "Fuck, baby girl. Imma cum in your pussy, are you ready, baby?"

You squeaked out a 'Yes' and after a few strong thrusts, his chest rumbled and shoots ribbons of warm seed inside of you, resting on top of you but not let his weight crush you. After calming down from their high, he scattered kisses across your neck and back and out of nowhere, he harshly landed pair of his hands on your ass cheeks, causing you to squeak and wiggled out of his grip but it didn't budge, "God damn, I fucking love your jiggly ass." He kneaded it for a moment and gave you last two spankings, your bum getting rosy red color.

Sebastian picked you up from the floor and gently placed you back on the sofa for you to rest, "Sebby?" Your voice sounded raspy and gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes, "When are you gonna buy me a pet?"

He chuckled and softly pinches your cheek, "You were eavesdropping earlier, you naughty kitten." He then started to tickle your sides and you squealed, trying to get away from him and stopped his hands.

You laughed and his heart swells at the sound, his ears will never get tired from hearing your pleasing voice. He finally stopped and leaned in for a kiss, and you responded back with a kiss as well, "I will buy you sooner, baby. Probably, after our trip at (D/D), we will go to a shelter and pick what you want."

You grinned from ear to ear and pulled him by his collar for an embrace, a small 'Oof' came out of his mouth in surprise and returned the gesture, "I hoped you enjoy what we did- shit!" He was pushed down by the floor again and (Y/N) plopped herself on his groin, quickly removing her lingerie before Sebastian could process what's happening properly, seeing you fully naked and he swore he felt his dick twitched in anticipation.

You sneered above him and got down to grinding against his undone pants, working on his erection, "I don't think I'm done playing with your cock, daddie. It's my turn to have it my way."

He sighed with a smile on his face and placed both of his hands behind his head, preparing for many rounds of fucking, "Fuck yeah."

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

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Off Limits

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where you're off limits and Aurélien loves going over the line.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Aurélien Tchouaméni x Kylian's sister!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 15.7k

Warnings! FLUFF!! overload. They are crazy for each other, there is a makeout scene but no smut, ANGST!! brother'sbestfriendau, Kylian disagrees and he's not quiet about it, they fight, I don't know what else to say,

Preview

**********

You make it two steps out the door before tears start rolling down your cheeks. The cool night air hits your flushed face, and you can’t seem to catch your breath. Your legs feel unsteady, like the ground is shifting beneath you, and you grip the doorframe to keep from falling over.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper, scrubbing at your face with your sleeve. You don’t even know where you’re going—you’re just moving because you can’t sit there any longer. You turn left and start down the sidewalk, barely registering the passing storefronts as your mind replays that awful scene. You can still feel the way her words cut, like a sharp knife slashing at your skin. Home wrecker.

 You flinch from the memory, shaking your head.

Your breath is fast and uneven and the tears won't stop coming. You swipe at them roughly, digging your phone out of your bag with shaking hands. You hover over Kylian’s name, your thumb hesitating.

But the thought of telling your brother this humiliating story — of hearing the anger in his voice, the inevitable "I told you so"—makes your stomach turn.

So instead, you call the only person you want right now.

He answers on the second ring. “Hey—”

The moment you sniffle, his entire tone shifts. "What’s wrong? Are you okay?"

The sound of his voice — soft and warm and worried — nearly undoes you. You try to speak, but your throat tightens, and the words stick.

"I—" Your voice cracks, and you hate how broken you sound. “Can you come get me?”

"Where are you?" He’s already moving—you can hear it in the rustle of fabric, the quickness in his breathing. "What happened?"

You try to speak. You do. But the words won’t come, and you can only sob against the phone.

He curses softly, already moving. You give him the address, trying to keep your voice steady, and he doesn’t hesitate.

"Alright, I’m on my way. Stay put, okay?"

"Okay." Your voice is small, but you know he hears it.

You let the phone slip from your fingers, the tears too much to hold back. And then you're crying—really crying—for the first time all night.

You slide down against the wall, phone clattering to the pavement, and let the sobs take you under. You cry for everything tonight—every bad choice, every foolish decision. You cry until your face hurts and your body shakes. You cry until you don’t know how to stop.

And then you hear the sound of an engine, and a car pulls up beside you.

The door opens, and he steps out, his eyes scanning the sidewalk frantically. You hear his soft curse when he spots you.

"Aurélien," you whisper. It's the only word you can think to say.

He’s kneeling in front of you before you can blink, his hands already reaching for you. You throw your arms around his neck, letting out a sob as he pulls you in.

He doesn't say anything, just holds you tight while your tears soak into his shirt.

You stay like that for a long moment—maybe a minute, maybe five—your sobs slowing as his touch soothes you. You pull back slowly, wiping at your face with a shaking hand.

 He watches you, his face tight with concern.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice still soft.

You let out another shaky breath and tell him everything—from the long wait to the awkward dinner to the girlfriend and the fight. By the time you finish, your tears have dried up, and your embarrassment has taken over. You shift, trying to hide your face in your hands, but he gently tugs them away.

His eyes soften when he takes in your crest-fallen expression and wet lashes. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You glance up, feeling a little worse at the concern in his voice. "I'm so stupid," you whisper, not even trying to hold back the tears that well up again. "I knew better, and I just—"

"Hey," he says softly, squeezing your hand in his. His touch feels warm and good, and you don't pull away even when your face flushes with embarrassment. "It’s not your fault, okay? You’re not stupid." He pauses. "You deserve better than some cheating asshole. And you did nothing wrong. You didn't know." He touches his thumb to your cheek, swiping at the last of your tears. "Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?" His voice is soft. So soft with you.

His words make your chest squeeze tighter, like someone has a hand around your heart. You feel a little wobbly and shaky, like the world is tilting on its axis.

You stare up at him, blinking at the wetness stinging your eyes. "Why are you so nice to me?" The words slip out before you can stop them.

He blinks, clearly startled, and then his expression softens. He shifts a little closer to you, until you can feel the warmth of his body. His voice drops, going low and soft in a way that makes goosebumps spread over your skin. “Because I care about you,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like it’s obvious.

And maybe it is. But right now, with your heart in pieces and your pride in shambles, it feels like the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you.

You swallow hard, looking away. The warmth of his hand is still on your cheek, and it takes everything in you not to lean into it. “You shouldn’t,” you whisper. “I’m a mess.”

He huffs out a soft, almost amused sound. “Who isn’t?”

When you glance back at him, there’s something in his eyes—something you can’t quite name. It’s soft and steady, like he’s trying to tell you something without saying a word. And even though you don’t know what it is, you feel it. It hums in the space between you, quiet and warm.

His thumb brushes your cheek, slow and gentle, and his fingers—rough, calloused—cradle your face with the kind of care that makes your throat tighten. His hands are warm, and they make you feel safe.

You lean into the touch without thinking, your eyes fluttering shut. The warmth of his palm seeps into your skin, and you breathe him in—the faint scent of something woodsy and clean. “Aurélien,” you whisper.

“Hm?” His voice is soft and low, and the sound of it rumbles through you. It makes you shiver.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he says, and you believe him.

When you open your eyes, his face is so close—close enough that your knees brush, close enough that every exhale you take tastes like him. He’s still holding you, his fingers tracing light, soothing circles against your skin. And maybe it’s the weight of the day, the tears and the fear and the rush of adrenaline—but you don’t think.

You just do it.

You kiss him.

**********

-Bianca🌻

[mikobeautifulheart]

Hiii, can I request a fic of nanami(established relationship) if he caught to in the act of trying to kill yourself. I get it if you won't do it though..❤

There is like nothing I won't write for I'm that desperate. Plus I have so many ideas.

Tw: self harm, destructive tendencies and depression (angst to ig)

They say you can tell when someone is going to commit. Obviously it isn't true.

You were the brightest person in the room, every morning when you were all getting assigned missions you would smile and greet everybody.

Nanami didn't know how you did it, always smiling when your job puts you to the dirtiest work of the world. Hell the day you stopped smiling was the day the world ended.

Maybe that's why he was so in love with you, you had so much affection to give him as he had for you, you could always smile brighter for him, laugh louder for him, all you ever did was make him happy.

"Y/n?" He said knocking on the bathroom door.

"Are you okay in there?" he said with little to no concern.

He had come home an hour ago and thought you must have still been on your mission because of how quiet the house was. That was until he heard noises in the bathroom.

"Mmmm" he heard muffled mumbles through the door, not even close to a proper response.

"Y/n i'm coming in okay?" He turns the handle but the door wont budge.

Another sound came from the other side of the door but it was louder like glass smashing on the tile floors.

"Stay away from the door, Do you hear me y/n? I'm going to knock it down"

He wastes no time before he takes a step back before kicking it the first time.

The door makes a splitting sound but dosen't open.

Second Kick.

Again, its more likely he's going to put a hole in the door before he breaks it down.

This time he slams his shoulder into it ripping the hinges off the wall and finally making the door weak enough to rip off the frame.

He pulls the door toward him so he dosen't hit you, and looks into the bathroom to see you on the floor, red around your torso, hair in your face.

He nearly took a step back in shock to see the horror infront of him. Still he went in and lifted your upper half off the ground to see where the blood was coming from.

As his eyes scanned you body you let out a groan.

"Sorry..." You said before quickly shutting your eyes in pain when he touched your arm.

"I didn't want you to be the one who found me..." You said before your mind gave out and your body went limp.

"Y/n? You have to keep your eyes open okay, can you hear me, Y/N" The longer he stayed the more of his composure he lost.

There it was, two long lines of red down both your arms. He rolled your sleeves up to get a better look.

"I'm going to get you to Shoko okay? Just hold out for me, please." He said scattering things all over the floor and pulling out things from the draws until he found bandages, if he didn't stop the bleeding now you would get to Shoko dead.

Carefully he starts wrapping your arms tightly, becoming worried but relived when you hissed in pain. He hated to see you in pain but at least he knew you were alive, alive enough to feel.

When the bandages were secure he carried you down to his car where he dialed Shoko right as he placed you along the passenger seats in the back. Even though it was late at night he knew Shoko would come in and save you.

He rushed you in watching to see if you were still breathing before laying you down in Shoko's clinic.

He waited out side and next to your bed all night, playing with the ring on your left hand.

As the sun came up the warm beams of light made your eyes open slowly.

''Morning" He said.

Nanami did'nt really know how to approach this, dose he ask questions now? Comfort you? Pretend it didn't even happen?

"Kento..." You said, voice groggy.

"Yes"

You reached your arm up to caress his face, a shooting pain ran down your arm and you gasped slightly before feeling tears prick the corner of your eyes.

"You shouldn't really use your arms right now" He said holding your hand to his face.

"Ken...I'm sorry I didn't want you to find me like that, I never wanted tou to suffer because of me I-im so sorry." You said letting the tears go.

"Shhh, you don't have to think about that right now, your being put on a break. No working for 2 weeks, then we can talk okay?"

You nodded trying to hold back your tears as he pressed a kiss you your cheek.

But really he felt more insecure. Was he not enough? No. He just kept taking. Your smile, your laughter and your happiness.

From this day on he would give you everything he could, anything for your happiness.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: If you don't like he ending that's cool because I have a similar fic here with a sadder ending, it's appart of my 5 stages of greife series.

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

I see that request is open so can I ask about maybe a cliche enemy to lovers fic with Leo from TD? 👉👈

A/N: I want to strangle Leo. Unaffectionately.

I made this on the shorter side, so I hope you don't mind! I have another fic for him planned that's sooo angsty to make up for it. I also made reader have more of a backbone than in the game. Because lets be honest, MC needs to stand tf up

Warnings: Angst, Leo being a bitch

Ask Box: Open

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Leo knew what he wanted and he knew he always got what he wanted. That wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't such an egotistical asshole. He leaned back against the couch, legs crossed and arms splayed out on the back of the couch.

"Just do it for me, Honor Roll."

You rolled your eyes. "Can you stop calling me that? I have a name."

"And I don't remember it. Honor Roll is fine. A cute nickname, since you need some cuteness added to you."

You crossed your arms and glared at him. You would have backhanded him several times if it didn't put your curse research at stake. If you had it your way, you would avoid Leo at all costs. He was one of your top three least favorite ghouls.

He wanted you to use your stigma enhancing abilities to eavesdrop on Alan. But you had no interest in whatever slimy plans he had. You wanted to use your powers to actually help. Not help get dirt and gossip on the captain of the house.

"Do it on your own. I'm leaving." You walked out of Vagastrom with a huff.

You could hear Leo following after you. He was persistent, which was even more annoying. He'd usually quit and just move on. Yet here he was, following you around. And he kept following you. All the way back to your dorm.

You stopped and turned around. "Are you gonna leave me alone?"

"No. And I wanna snoop." Leo pushed past you and walked into the worn down cathedral. "I've never been here."

"Leo!"

You groaned and followed after him. He leisurely walked around the broken down pews, the dilapidated floorboards creaking with every step. You sighed and crossed your arms.

"Can you just leave me alone?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't like you."

"Aww." Leo pouted, his eyes shining with a mocking glint. "But why not? Don't you know how lucky you are to know someone like me?"

You glared at him, your expression hardening. "Luck isn't the word I'd use. Being cursed to die in a year isn't luck. Being forced to cater to ghouls who are nothing but trouble isn't luck. You, Leo Kurosagi, are a lying, scheming, immoral snake. It's a misfortune to know someone like you. I'd rather face this curse alone than even spend another second with you."

Leo didn't say anything. He just stared at you in disbelief. Did you go a bit overboard? Maybe. But you were tired. Exhausted of constantly running around and being shoved into shenanigans that often turned out to be deadly. And you were tired of being used as nothing but a tool, especially with people that had no respect for you.

"Wow."

That was all he said. His look of disbelief morphed into a smirk. You didn't want to hear whatever snarky comeback he had. You turned and headed for your room.

Leo called your name. "Wait up!"

He grabbed your arm and pulled you back. You let out a hiss. "I'm not in the mood, Leo."

"But it's cute seeing you get so... agitated. It's fun."

"This is why I hate you!" You growled, shoving his hand away. "You don't take anything seriously, Leo! Not everyone can just waltz through life like you! Some of us actually have problems!"

Leo's eyebrows furrowed. "Woah, hey, hey. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to annoy you that much."

You blinked in surprise. Leo was actually apologizing. Rare, considering how he thought he was right in everything. He reached out again and placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was light and gentle.

"I... I'm still pissed. An apology won't fix anything."

"So what will?"

"I don't know. Maybe-"

"How about this?"

Leo pulled you into him and pressed his lips against yours. Your hands curled into his shirt and you tried pushing him away. He held you close to him, now gripping both of your shoulders. His lips were so soft. You could feel your cheeks heat up and your mind start to twist up and tangle. It wasn't until his tongue brushed against your lips for access that you finally pulled back.

You couldn't speak. You just stared at him. He chuckled and brushed your cheek with the side of his hand. Those piercing yellow eyes of his traveled over your face.

"Do you forgive me?" Leo murmured, leaning in. His lips brushed against your jawline.

"Uh... I-I don't... what are you doing?" You managed to get out.

He chuckled and kissed down your neck. "I'm apologizing."

A small whimper left your lips as a shiver ran up your spine. You quickly pushed him away. "Enough! Apologize in a different way!"

"You're so flustered!" He laughed heartily. "Fine, fine. Then how about a date? Tomorrow at seven."

You quickly looked away and frowned. You nodded. "Okay. But only if you're paying. I don't turn down free food."

"See you then."

Leo kissed your forehead before turning and walking out of the cathedral. Your heart was pounding and your hands were shaking. This couldn't be. Leo just kissed you. And you agreed to a date?! It was idiotic! You hated him. And you hated how easily you melted against his touch.

You weren't going to fall for him. It would just be one date and that was it. There's no way you could fall for Leo Kurosagi.

[bbyobbyo]

To Mingyu, you were perfect. It was no wonder he was drawn to you when his long time best friend and roommate introduced you to him as his partner. Alas, you were perfect but you weren't his.

content: angst, fluff if you squint, suggestive (no actual depictions of sex), unrequited love, pining, gyu is a simp

wc: 729

notes: second attempt hehe, thank you everyone who read my vernon fic! feedback is appreciated, i'm still new here 😔👉👈

Truthfully, there was no better person for you than Wonwoo. Mingyu could at least admit that much. You complimented each other like yin and yang, supporting and uplifting one another in harmony. You were the much needed ray of sunshine and motivation in his life, and he was the structure and inspiration you wanted in yours. Over time your presence became a welcome constant in his life, first by association, then seemingly by necessity.

"She is the best thing to ever happen to me" his roommate would exclaim constantly, and Mingyu couldn't help but agree.

He tried to be happy for his friend, he really did. After all, why wouldn't he want the people he loves to be happy? It wasn't like he didn't want you visiting the apartment constantly, always with a delicious treat to share in hand. Nor did he dislike your genuine attempts to get to know him as a person, asking about his preferences and aspirations in life. In fact, it bothered him more and more that he wished you came over more often, even when his roommate wasn't home.

It was tortuous to hear the sounds in the apartment when you and Wonwoo thought he was asleep. Heavy moans and muted whines haunt his brain on those long nights filled with tossing and turning. The next morning he tries his best to pretend like he didn't see the hickeys littered on your neck just barely covered by your hair when he ran into you making breakfast. And yet, when you ask if he had a good night's sleep with an offer of making an extra serving for him, he doesn't have the heart to tell you the truth. That he spent the entire night wishing it was him in the bed next to you instead.

-

The day the world came crashing down on him was the day Wonwoo had told him about his plan to propose to you. An evening surrounded by his 12 closest friends that you have also come to adore, how perfect. It was so perfect that he didn't even have to think twice when saying yes when Wonwoo asked him to help film the entire affair.

"I trust you over Seokmin any day, that man can't keep a secret for his life. But if you tell her it's for a personal project, she won't suspect a thing!" he chuckles.

"Yeah," Mingyu mumbles back, not quite meeting his friend's eyes, "she won't see it coming."

-

Mingyu thinks he's going insane. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of photos from tonight and yet he's enamored by this one. You're absolutely dazzling, looking at the camera like you just discovered the lens, eyes turned into crescents and smiling cheek to cheek. How long has he waited for you to smile at him like that? And the first time you do, he's behind a camera. At your fucking wedding reception of all places.

"You like her." His head snaps up from the viewfinder.

"What?"

His older friend snakes a gentle hand on over his shoulder. "You like her, don't you?" Seungcheol repeats, voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu says nothing, slowly directing his gaze back downwards at the camera, screen stuck on the photo of you he took only a few moments ago. He can't do anything but sigh. Seungcheol's expression softens, giving his younger friend's shoulder a knowing squeeze.

"It gets better."

God, he sure hopes it does.

-

Mingyu's attention fades in and out when you're reading your vows. It's ironic that on one of the happiest days of your life, he finds it impossible to focus on you when it feels like that's all he's done for years. It was a welcome distraction, however. He can't decide what would destroy him more: listening to you profess your love to someone that wasn't him, or knowing that you meant every word. You end your monologue gracefully with a small smile, holding back a sob as the groom begins his.

"You're the best thing to ever happen to me," Wonwoo begins, voice breaking as he bites back his own tears.

In another time, another place, Mingyu would've agreed with him. But in this moment, as you look at his best friend like he's the center of your whole world, Mingyu decides that you might have been the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

[brucewaynehater101]

You ever think about what would happen if Bruce had to kill in self defence?

Like literally no other choice, just attacked without holding back because he knows he’s about to die, and he puts a bit more force behind it than he expects and suddenly they’re not moving why aren’t they moving what has he done—

I haven’t put a lot of thought into it, and it depends entirely on how you write his character, but I think he’d either A. spiral before eventually coming to terms with the fact that there really was no other option at the time, B. panic and hide all evidence and pretending nothing happened while slowly spiralling into a pit of self loathing, OR if you want to go the really angsty route, maybe he hides all evidence and after some spiralling convince himself that it’s fine he’s Batman he needs to stay Batman so he���ll just put this behind himself and pretend it never happened, it was just one time it’s fine, but then one of his kids unearths some piece of footage or something and demands why the rules don’t apply to him, why he can keep on working and isn’t a threat despite being a killer yet Jason always gets shit for even knocking someone out. And mayybe one of the other batkids recently killed in self defence too, and Batman was lecturing them because ‘there’s always another option’ and how they shouldn’t be out in the field if they put civilians at risk, when Jason or Babs or someone calls him a hypocrite and it spirals from there…

Ooh ~ I like how you added the element that Bruce didn't mean to kill them. He never actually made that choice.

Despite Bruce's steadfast rules against killing, the man has killed before. Imma link an article here so y'all can look into it. Basically, pre-Robin Batman (or his beginning years as the caped crusader) used to have no issue with killing. This storyline was changed so that he had never killed at all, but it is interesting to ponder. He has made kills since his character insisted he has and never will kill, though. Some of the ones listed are alternative universes or times he was sure his enemy would survive despite their situation seeming to depict otherwise.

Therefore, it's not a stretch to say he would or has killed. There's some fics that examine the hc that Bruce DID kill someone (or multiple people) in that pre-Tim era and repressed/denied the hell out of that notion. Extending that out to other circumstances would cool af.

Anyways, let's look at this AU specifically!

The three reactions Bruce can have about this are:

The mentally healthy one of coming to terms and accepting this kill

Hide all of the evidence, spiral, and try to justify it to himself while remaining a hypocrite

Repress the fuck out of his memories (including killing, hiding the evidence, and anything else surrounding it) to deny it happened

The first one has opportunities for good dad Bruce where he communicates with actual words to his kids that he'd rather they come home alive. Great hurt/comfort for that route.

The second one is full throttle fuck Bruce. He's a hypocrite who berates the others for their choices in the field, reacts explosively to them even hinting at murder, and overall no one (including Bruce) is having a good time.

The third one has four options:

Bruce is obv not mentally well. He can receive help, come to terms, and eventually end up as good dad

He keeps denying despite how much evidence is proven otherwise, causing him to spiral and jeopardize his relationships.

He eventually accepts what happens but is steadfast that HIM doing so is fine. He won't excuse that behavior for anyone else regardless of the circumstances

After acknowledging the kill, he creates a self-fulfilling prophecy with his belief that even one death will cause him to spiral into madness and mass murder. There would be many clues that he could stop from becoming a monster, but he simply doesn't due to his ideas that one death is too far

The last one could bring lots of angst, especially for the person that forced Bruce to acknowledge the evidence and his kill :)

Maybe the fic can even force Alfred to be the one to put Bruce down for good :)

There are also fics that consider what Bruce's reactions and what the rest of the batfam would do if someone who's sworn off killing ends up killing someone (particularly on accident or in self-defense). There's either good dad Bruce who apologizes for ever giving the impression that killing in self-defense is wrong (when there's no other choice) or bad dad Bruce who goes nuclear.

This has absolutely nothing to do with Bruce killing someone, but this is a rant about Bruce's moral code:

For once, I'd kill for an ACAB Batman because cops kill, and that goes against his moral code. A simple math of murder = wrong, so therefore cops (who don't swear off ever killing again) are an entire group he's against the same as he's against gangs.

He's criticized the batfam, some JL members, anti-heroes, villains, etc. for their choices regarding murdering for justice. Are there any fics or instances in canon where he basically says "fuck the police" because they do kill? Not him stating that GCPD is corrupt, but him fully disparaging the entire profession/institution due to the allowance it gives in murdering. He could go on one of his rants about judge, jury, and executioner. He could chat about power dynamics, morals, police training, checks and balances, insufficient evidence gathering before execution, innocents killed, etc.

Where the fuck is ACAB Bruce? Give me reluctantly working with Jim despite his hatred of cops. Give me him stating he likes Jim as a person and his notion of changing shit from the inside, but Bruce (as someone who is legit working outside the law and policies in place) doesn't think it's possible to change enough. Give me Bruce debating whether his role of working with the legal system is doing harm.

If Bruce has black and white perspectives on murder, let him have it about everything.