#oof i felt something fall...yeah there goes my heart

[theartofdreaming1]

Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2)  that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh* 

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security�� in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use  their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.  - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Blue Moon - Part 7

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) There is some show related violence referenced in this one, so, like always, check the masterlist if you need a heads up about the warnings. But this one is mostly just fluff and some angst. Though, arguably, like the season, this one may be a bit heavier. (And thank you to the amazing @trexrambling for coming up with the lines in bold during one of our chats just for fun, that was too perfect to not include.)

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 4,390

Xxx

“What do you mean there isn’t a body?” you asked Stiles over the phone, walking back to your house with Derek. You had expected it to be like twisting his arm to talk him into coming back with you, but he surprisingly agreed almost immediately.

“I don’t know, they just called us to come up to the school. Apparently she went into another fugue state or something….” You heard the gears shift, the engine of the jeep coming to a stop over the line. “Look, we’re here. Just, keep your eyes open, please.”

“Will do.” You cleared your throat. “Please keep me updated.” You stared straight ahead as you ended the phone call.

“You didn’t tell him about finding me,” Derek mused from your side.

“They have enough going on right now. Plus, you didn’t say you were ready to be ‘found’ yet, so I omitted certain truths.”

Staring at the ground as you both continued in silence, you made it to your front porch before you realized you didn’t have your keys. Reaching under the front mat, Derek produced the spare key. “It didn’t take much searching,” he answered your raised eyebrow of question.

Once inside, Derek let out a heavy sigh. “Look, I’ll admit, something has felt off about Jennifer from the beginning. I didn’t want to admit it, but you’re right.”

“You didn’t want to admit something felt weird, or that I was right?” You smiled at him, taking the groan he gave as the answer. “We’ll finish this conversation in a minute. First we need to change clothes. We are both covered in…. woods.” Derek snorted a laugh, nodding in agreement.

As you started up the stairs to your room, you looked over your shoulder in question as he fell in step behind you. “Okay. What’s up, Derek?”

“My bag is in your room. I’ve…. been sleeping on the floor.”

“I thought you only came by here twice?” You opened the door to your room, seeing his duffel bag sitting on your bed with clothes pouring out the sides of it and onto your comforter.

“Yeah, that was a lie. It’s the only place I could think of where no one would bother me.” He grabbed a change of clothes before walking back out of the room, stopping at the door with his back to you. “Plus, I’m used to you being at the loft. Having your scent around was calming, and helped me think straight.” With that he left the room, softly shutting the door.

Looking to the makeshift bed he had on the floor, you noticed various things with your scent laying close by, and you smiled. Examining the room further, you realized the majority of your clothes were at the loft or at Stiles’, which left you with only one other option.

“Are those...are those my sweatpants?”

Looking down at the base of the stairs as you slowly made your way down, you saw Derek, wide eyed, and was that the beginning of a blush on his cheeks?

You shrugged. “You said I could borrow your clothes.”

Reaching inside the shirt that was massive on you, you cinched the drawstring on the pants even tighter, contemplating making it into a belt instead.

Making it to the final step, you hopped off of it to the main floor, looking Derek straight on.

Derek looked down at your feet. “Exactly how many times did you-”

“Seven. These have been rolled up seven times. I almost died going down the stairs.”

The grin working it’s way up his face was very contagious, and you found it spreading to your face as well. “All my stuff is at the loft or the Stilinski’s, so, I figured I’d take you up on your offer.”

“Well, it’s a look I could get used to,” Derek said easily, before stuttering, “um, I mean, yeah. Yeah. Whatever you need. It looks good on you.”

You plopped into a chair in the living room, him gently sitting in the one opposite you. “So, Jennifer. You think something isn’t right?”

Derek, still smiling, shook his head gently at you and sighed. “Yes.”

“What is making you say that now?”

“You.” Tilting your head at him questioningly, he grinned again, looking down at the floor. “What you said today. It’s instinct.” He looked up, meeting your eyes on the last word, and you both held the other’s gaze for a few moments in the comfortable silence.

“So let’s test your theory,” you mused. “Show up at school tomorrow, I’ll stay close by and see if anything seems overtly out of place-”

“You have classes-”

“Derek. I finally found you again. I’m not letting you out of my sight for the foreseeable future.”

He relented, leaning back in the chair.

“Text her and tell her you want to meet up before lunch. Meet her in the alcove by the fields, none of the pack will see you there, and then you are welcome to come back here.” You hesitated. “Not with her, though. That goes without saying. But I felt it needed saying. Just to be clear. Moving on.” He smirked as you continued. “While you talk to her, I’ll stay right behind the wall and listen to her heartbeat and see if I pick up on anything. You pay attention to the physical cues.”

“With her scent being so…. off, what do you think she is?” Derek said on a huff of air.

“Do you think she’s the Darach?”

His eyes widened and he looked away for a second before looking back to you, resigned. “As of today, it’s crossed my mind.”

“Why today?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s just the first time I was able to think clearly in a long time. Since she came around, really.”

You gestured to the room around you. “Well, my life is a Jennifer free zone, so feel free to use it to your advantage.” Smiling, you held his gaze once again, both of your grins lazy and comfortable.

This time, you sighed. “I’m sorry, Derek. I really didn’t want to be right about this-”

“Yes you did.” He raised his eyebrows at you challengingly. “I’m not blind, Y/N.”

“Well, that may be, but I never wished you would find the devil and start dating her.” He glared at you. “You know, you seem to have a pattern.” He rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t Kate, like, psychotic?”

“That was a low blow.” You smirked at him, but it slipped when he smirked right back. “And what does that say about you?”

You choked on your own spit. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said.” He tilted his head back onto the chair, closing his eyes and grinning triumphantly, hands knit together and resting on his chest.

You launched a pillow at him, letting out a cry of triumph when it hit him square in the face, startling him. His head snapped back up. “No need to be freaking rude.”

Derek curled up with the pillow, a smug look on his face. “Derek? Can I have that pillow back? This chair is lumpy.” Your voice was small.

“You should have thought of that before hurling it at me.” He got up and plopped down on the couch, letting out a sigh of content as he stretched, still holding the pillow close, smug grin still all over his face.

Getting up, you went over to him, reaching for the pillow, but he turned away, tucking it under him, clutched tight in his grip. You paced back and forth a few times, hands on your hips, before you turned to go back and try again, tripping on one of the legs of his pants that had started to come unfolded in all the movement, and launching at him with unexpected force.

He let out an oof as you landed on his chest, his head snapping your way to try and guess your next move.

“Well. This is unexpected,” you said tightly. You looked at as much of him as you could see, propped on your elbows awkwardly on his shoulder as he lay slightly sideways away from you. “You’re squishy enough, I’ll just use you as my pillow.”

Laying your head down on his shoulder, you could have sworn you heard his heart rate pick up, making you smirk. Suddenly you were laying with your head on the pillow as it rested on his chest, the rest of you flush with his body, one of your legs slotting between his and the other between his leg and the couch.

Sighing with contentment into the pillow, you had just gotten comfortable when the pillow disappeared, your head falling down to his chest with a thump, ear over his racing heart. Looking up at him through your lashes, you saw him tucking the pillow under his head, and his eyes closed. He grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch, covering you both and taking a sniff of the top of your head in what he probably thought was a subtle way as he did.

“I think you have a type, alright,” you mused quietly. “Dangerous - snore and all bets are off.”

“Same goes for you - drool and I find a way to give you fresh hell when we go back to training regularly.”

“I don’t drool!” You pulled slightly away from him.

“I don’t snore.” He settled further into the couch, one arm wrapping around your waist.

After a brief stare off, you mumbled, “Fine. Truce?”

“Truce.” He smiled.

“You’re unbelievable,” you grumbled into his chest.

“Thank you. I try.”

You could hear the smile in his tone, and it was the last thing you registered before drifting off to sleep.

Xxx

You were reliving it again. The fight with Kali. Just before the dream turned in a bad way, your phone ringing and vibrating across the coffee table beside you woke you up with a start. Glancing down at Derek who looked sleepily up at you, you mouthed a sorry before answering the phone. “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you, Y/N?” Stiles’ angry voice made you pull the receiver away from your ear, your face scrunched up in pain. Putting it on speaker and placing it back on the coffee table, you sighed, holding your head in your hands, elbows braced on Derek’s chest.

“Stiles, I’m so sorry, I-”

“I almost had my dad start a search for you!”

Derek nudged you, making you look down at him, ignoring Stiles’ incessant repeating of your name. He gestured to the phone, whispering, “It’s okay. Tell them you found me.”

“Are you sure?” you whispered, and he nodded.

Laying your hands on Derek’s chest, his arm still firmly around your waist, you placed your cheek on the back of your hands and looked at the phone as you spoke. “Are you alone, Stiles?”

The line was silent as his constant speech stopped. “Why?”

“I just want to talk to you without supernatural ears around, that’s all. It’s need to know at the moment.”

You heard Stiles fumbling around, closing doors and running faucets on his way from his room down to his kitchen - you knew by the floor board squeaks, he could never avoid them - and looked to Derek when his arm tightened around your waist.

“They can all know,” he said softly.

“I’m going with my gut, Derek. The less people know, the better. Jennifer will feel more special, and probably open up more. Plus, Scott’s got his own problems right now.” It sounded like Stiles was finally reaching the kitchen when you added softly to Derek, “Plus, I know you like to make an entrance.”

You both smirked and Stiles came back on the line. “I’m home alone with my dad, but I turned on every faucet between my room and the kitchen in case we have any lurkers outside.”

“Why is every faucet on?” You heard the Sheriff in the background, walking from room to room, and you smiled. He could be such a light sleeper.

“Talk fast,” Stiles rushed into the phone.

“I found Derek. We found the Nemeton but lost it again. We’re back at my place so no one will look for him. We have a plan, and we’re gonna try something tomorrow at school, I’ll give you details after. Nothing dangerous-” you looked up at Derek- “at least, I don’t think.” You looked back to the phone. “Just me and him, for some info gathering, then probably back here, and we’ll go from there.”

“And the others couldn’t know about this why?” Stiles hissed into the phone, his father’s footsteps getting closer.

“Because, everyone is working on their own thing right now, and we can regroup after. I think we finally have all the puzzle pieces we need to get a picture.”

“Fine,” he huffed.

“For the record, that’s my idea to bring him to school for info, and my idea to only tell you. He said others could know. I just thought it best that less know for now.”

“That actually makes sense. I agree. Okay, fill me in as soon as you know more, please. But I don’t know how long him being gone will be helpful.”

“You got it.”

“Wait…. You found the Nemeton?”

“Go to sleep, Stiles. I’ll fill you in later.”

“They found a what?” The Sheriff said in the background, voice heavy with sleep.

“Uhhhhhh….” Stiles failed to answer.

“Just say shenanigans, Stiles.”

“I don’t even wanna know,” the Sheriff said, yawning, his footsteps retreating.

“Smooth, Stiles. Smooth.”

“Oh, just go back to sleep, Y/N.”

“Will do. Sorry I didn’t let you know I wouldn’t be back tonight.”

He sighed. “It’s okay. I was just worried, but it’s okay now that I know. Sleep well.”

“You, too.”

The call ended and your phone locked on its own, the room going dark once more, Derek startling you when you looked at him only to see bright red eyes staring back at you.

“You know very well you could see without those,” you mumbled, tucking your face back into his chest, digging your chin in a little more forcefully than necessary as you stared at him.

He grinned, no sign of them going anywhere as he blinked a few times. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

Xxx

It was like something out of a movie.

Jennifer saw him standing in the tunnel, hesitating only a second before she realized it was him. She smiled and ran up to him, embracing him as she leapt into his arms, tucking her face into his neck, his face buried in her hair.

You watched until they kissed, and you had to look away before you made any gagging noises. You blamed Stiles for some of these reactions, you really did.

Derek kept his answers to a minimum, asking her to come with him for the day, and you felt your stomach drop. You knew it was an act, but the thought was just unsettling.

They kissed one more time, and you had to physically step back a few paces so you couldn’t peek around the corner and see them anymore. You were supposed to be listening to her heartbeat, but yours was so loud in your ears it was hard to focus. As far as you could make out, her heart was steady the whole time, not a single tick. And that’s what was the most concerning.

Between the kisses and shared words, hell, even the sight of each other, she should have had some sort of uptick or something.

You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you had eavesdropped on his heartbeat, too, and noticed his little upticks here and there.

You wanted to be wrong, just for his sake, but it looked more and more like she was up to something.

Looking one last time, you saw her turning away, their hands lingering on one another’s before falling away at the last possible second. She walked away confidently, tucking some of her hair behind her ear almost shyly as the wind swept errant leaves and her long loose tresses around her.

He turned and looked at you once she was out of sight, holding your gaze for only a moment before hanging his head and shaking it gently.

Walking up to him, your hands itched to reach out and comfort somehow, but felt it better to give him space, so you settled for touching the tips of your shoes to his, putting them in his line of sight. The smallest of smiles turned up his face when he noticed.

“I really hope you were listening to her heart rate, because all I could hear was yours.”

You felt your eyes go wide at the admission, the act of breathing something foreign. “Um, yes. Yes, I…” You looked up then down, then to the side before looking back at him, his head still hung, and you swallowed to try and get rid of any emotions in order to simply speak. “It didn’t change the whole time. Which I don’t have to tell you is an even bigger tell.” You gently shifted your weight from foot to foot. “You, on the other hand,” you spoke softly, “you had some major tells, and, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you keep getting dealt the shitty hand, and have to-”

You were cut off by his hands gently grabbing your face, tilting it back until your noses were touching like yesterday, and you could just feel the ghost of his lips over yours. Resting his forehead against yours, he let out a sigh that sounded both content and yet frustrated. You opened your eyes just in time to see his flick up to look at yours before a voice to the side jarred you from the moment.

“Hey, hooligans! Get back to class!”

You let out a decidedly frustrated sigh before answering, making Derek smile. “Yes, Coach!”

Pulling away, Derek tugged you by the hand back to the car.

You heard Coach mutter something about “delinquents” and “back in my day” before he was totally out of earshot.

“I finally understand why all the guys call him Coach Cockblock now….” you mumbled, making Derek snicker.

Xxx

Back at your house that evening, Derek had been unusually quiet, but you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence in any way. You just sat near him on the couch, both of you processing what today had revealed.

When you got a call from Stiles that Cora was in the hospital, you immediately looked to Derek and knew he had heard.

“Go,” you urged him, waving the hand not holding the phone in a shooing gesture.

“But tonight-”

“Everyone will be there at the concert, safety in numbers. And right now Cora is all alone. Go take care of your sister.”

Nodding, Derek practically jumped over the back of the couch, grabbed his coat, and was out the door in seconds.

“Y/N, Cora was about to show her eyes to my dad after I explained everything to him when she passed out. He’s gonna be at the concert tonight. Think you can use the glow sticks to help me prove a point?”

“Sure, Stiles. What else is a werewolf best friend for?”

He chuckled. “Okay. Fill me in when you get here about what all was accomplished with your and Derek’s secret steakout today.”

“You make it sound like something sordid.”

“And until you tell me otherwise, these are the nightmares that play in my head.”

You laughed, grabbing your coat before stepping out the front door, locking it behind you. “Then suffer until I get there.”

Xxx

Once again, things turned super weird super fast. As soon as you got to the school, you felt a chill go down your spine, your eyes glowing of their own accord. Something was off, and you didn’t like it. Blinking away your golden eyes, you got out of the car, looking up and meeting Chris Argent’s gaze a few spaces away. He looked just as unnerved as you did, and that definitely didn’t sit well with you. Giving one another a nod in acknowledgment, he turned to follow after Allison and Isaac, and you met Stiles and Scott outside the auditorium.

Filling them in quickly, Scott was surveying the area for Lydia as you spoke. Suddenly, a scream was heard and you knew it was Lydia. You and Scott dropped to your knees with your hands over your ears, Stiles panicked and trying to help. You felt your phone buzzing in your pocket, and managed to stammer out, “My…. phone….” to a helpless looking Stiles. Immediately he fished it out and answered it, the screaming coming to an end. Scott was still on his knees and breathing deeply, and your own world was spinning as well. You removed your hands from your ears and placed your palms flat on the ground to try to find some balance again.

You heard Derek over the phone asking what’s going on when Scott abruptly took off towards the classrooms. Stiles sprinted after him, tossing you your phone, which you fumbled, before holding it to your ear and rising to your feet to take off after your friends.

“We don’t know, Derek. Lydia just screamed, Scott took off for the classrooms, Stiles is right behind him, and I’m the last one on this crazy train. There is a whole other something crazy going on inside the auditorium from what I can hear, but right now I’m focused on Lydia. The others in there can take care of that. Call Isaac to find out what’s going on.”

“Be safe,” Derek said quickly, and you nodded before rolling your eyes, remembering he can’t see you.

“Will do. Thanks. Let me know if anything changes with Cora.”

“Of course,” he said, then you both hung up.

Stuffing your phone in your pocket, you screeched to a halt when you saw only Stiles, and he looked utterly lost. “What’s wrong?”

“Scott- he- he said he heard my dad, and-” Running his hands through his hair, Stiles was turning in circles, his heart hammering away as a panic attack brewed.

“Stiles.”

“And he just took off, Y/N!” Stiles yelled, his hands starting to gesture. “I couldn’t keep up, and now my dad-”

“Stiles, calm down. Remember you asked me to use my glow sticks to help you prove a point?” You flicked on your yellow eyes with a blink. “We’ll find them.”

Simply nodding, his face screwed up in fear and dread, Stiles followed behind you as you turned toward where you heard voices.

Despite an all out sprint, neither of you made it in time to get into the classroom, Jennifer slamming the desk against the door too easily for a human and holding it there with some sort of magic. No matter how hard both of you tried, you couldn’t make the desk or the door budge. You peeked through the corner of the little window in the door while Stiles watched on, taking up most of the frame.

Scott was coughing up blood on the floor, completely wolfed out, Lydia was in a chair crying, a garrote loose around her neck, and Jennifer was approaching the Sheriff slowly, a knife sticking out of his right shoulder. After some exchanged words, he shot her in the right leg, and you smirked, only for it to fade as the wound healed in seconds. She was going on and on about the sacrifices, how they helped her acquire certain traits like healing from the bullet the Sheriff had fired, and then she kissed him.

You couldn’t hold it back this time; you made gagging noises, trying desperately to keep your focus on the scene in the room though your eyes began to tear up as you fought the urge to vomit. You stopped breathing when Jennifer morphed into what you could only assume was the Darach before pulling away from the Sheriff, screeching, and jumping out the window, shattered glass going everywhere.

Stiles finally was able to push the door open, his strength surprising you as he shoved the desk back while opening it. The Sheriff was gone, and Scott and Stiles stared out the window in silence. They shared a look briefly before Stiles’ gaze returned to the window, his face a tight line, Scott looking on with concern.

Going over to Lydia, you helped her get free of the bindings of the chair, tearing the duct tape away like it was nothing, and then the garrote, pulling her up and into a hug as soon as the offending thing had been tossed onto the desk beside you.

“I found it in time for you guys to do something about it. I didn’t find a body. If I had just been a few minutes sooner we could have-”

“Lydia.” You pulled away, gripping her hands to turn her attention from Scott to you. “You were right on time. You’re right. You didn’t find a body, and because of that we know who is doing this, and there’s still a chance that the Sheriff will be just fine. We caught her off guard, thanks to you.” You grabbed her biceps and squeezed gently. “Just, next time, maybe a little quieter? The room still is sort of spinning.”

The pack started to fill up the room, and you saw police car lights starting to reflect off the shattered glass around the space.

Going over to Stiles, you gave Scott a sad look before you both stepped up beside your friend, one on each side. You bumped Stiles’ shoulder with your own. “We’ll get him, Stiles. We’ll bring him back.” You spoke softly, leaning into his shoulder just as gently. “I know it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I made a promise.” He looked at you, his face void of any one emotion. “I have to help you prove a point.” You blinked your yellow eyes on for a few seconds before blinking them off. “What else is a werewolf best friend for?”

He smiled almost imperceptibly. “Okay.”

“And until we find her, or tell you otherwise, there are no nightmares that should play in your head. Please, plot away. Just know…. She will suffer when I get there.”

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra, @lilostif16, @wandas-love, @emily500, @babygirl-angel-love, @c-dizzle99, @itscheybaby, @fandomsfanman, @sunsetcurvej, @reichelhache, @shortimaginewriter What’s This?

[catzula]

the lightning thief ii.

a/n: okay so I was not going to write a second part but I liked it a lot so here we go. This can be read as a standalone btw, you don't really have to read the first part to understand, but like,,, still lmao

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mentions of death, cursing, tw: major character death, tw: blood if anything else, please tell me

honorable mentions: first half pure angst, the rest is slow-burn, enemies to lovers with Gojo. 6.4k? Yeah, meant it when I said slowburn. oh- soulmate au!! I really hope y'all like this as much as you did the first part oof

Gojo sometimes wonders if your souls are tied to each other because you're in love or if you're in love because of the shared tie.

"I'm sorry, Gojo." Your voice is scratchy, and Gojo can tell it hurts even to speak. "I'm so sorry."

You don't want to see your lover crying hovering over you; it's your fault his tears stream down his cheeks, but it's impossible to take your eyes off of him. Gojo shakes his head side to side, lips quivering as his grip on you tightens, too afraid to let you go.

Your face is getting paler by the second; your hand reaches to his face to wipe his tear, but you fall weak. So instead, your god takes your trembling, ice-cold hand in his, guiding it to his face, nuzzling his face into your touch.

He can't- it's too much. He had to witness this, your limping body in his arms, counting minutes till you leave him, thousands, millions of times, but each time hurts just as much. And knowing this is- this is the last time... he thinks he's going mad.

"Please," his voice is a hush, blending in with the wind. "Please don't go. I can't go on without you." Gojo sobs, pulling you closer to him, flush to his chest as he feels your face nuzzle his neck. "I need you- I don't care how long it takes, I just want to see you again."

"I'm sorry," you sob into his chest, drinking his smell one last time.

One last time.

It's your fault he's sobbing like this. It's your fault this is the last time you're ever going to be together. It's your fault his bright, pearl-white hair is soiled with a dark burgundy of blood.

"I thought- I just wanted to help."

Your words only seem to make him cry harder; his voice raises to shouts, pushing you closer to himself as if guarding you against death. "I know, baby, I know." He manages to say. "I'm not- I'm not mad at you."

He should be. You're the one who broke the bond, after all. It's your fault the piece of lightning that used to tie you together broke in two.

"I love you so much; you know that, right?" He ushers you. "I'll always love you, so just please-" He shakes his head side to side as he notices you can't keep your eyes open anymore. "don't leave me."

Not much to say; all he can do now is to beg.

If anyone- anything else saw him this very second, on the ground, holding the body of a mortal girl, dirt all over him, begging shamelessly, no one would believe he's a god, let alone the strongest. But at that moment, he doesn't care.

You have it easy, you think. You're never the one to witness your lover's death, grieve after he's gone. As you watch him sob like a leaf in between a storm, holding your numbing body, it feels selfish.

People seem to think he's the selfish one, and they're right in any other thing he does, but never in love.

"I don't want to leave." You finally tell him, despite knowing it'll only hurt him more, it'll wound him deeper, you're still unable to hold it in as you clutch him as if he's the one thing still holding you alive.

"It's okay." He hushes you, caressing your hair, grazing your cold skin. "Just sleep now, okay? You're not going anywhere, I won't let you."

You smile. Gojo wishes for you to ask him for the promise, the promise to find you in the next life as well, "wait for me, Gojo." You'd tell him, "Find me again, meet me in my next life." He would always respond with a teary smile. "Always, my love."

But instead, you stay quiet this once.

Gojo's mouth goes dry.

You feel heavy in his hold, your eyes fluttering close, hand sliding and falling on the ground.

No.

No, no, no!

His eyes wide with shock, with horror, with panic, Gojo tries to get you to wake up- because that can't be it, right? That can't be it- you didn't-

He calls out your name, begging you to open your eyes- even for a few seconds, he didn't even get to say a proper goodbye. He never does, though, since how does one say goodbye to the love of their life?

"Please love-" the god looks so pathetic, so miserable as his head rests on yours, begging you to open your eyes, don't leave him- he's scared.

Why didn't you ask him- ask him to find you again? How can you leave him with those words, breaking his heart more than any other time? It feels wrong; something feels horribly wrong as your body gets colder and colder in his arms.

He stays there with you in his arms, for how long, he doesn't know.

As Gojo stands up, letting your limp body go, two things slip from his hold. One is his lover, and the other is the string of lightning that ties your souls together.

~

Gojo sometimes wonders if your souls are tied to each other because you're in love or if you're in love because of the shared tie.

He doesn't want to find out.

It's the kind of doubt that makes its way into his thoughts only when he has you in his arms like this, your head nuzzling into your lovers' neck, your heartbeats a steady rhythm against his chest.

A rhythm he has come to memorize, searching for it in the eternity you leave behind.

You've always liked staying with him like this; it's one of the minor things that never seems to change about you in every new life you spend together.

Even just the thought of the next life you'll spend together is agonizing for him. It weighs heavy on him, to count the days he'll lose you, to even think about how you felt all those times, limp between his arms, each time body colder than the last.

Please don't leave me. Don't leave me alone.

His grip on your body tightens as his chest does; it's a hold of fear, of longing.

"What's wrong?" You lift your head to meet his blindfolded gaze; his bottom lip captured between his teeth. No matter how much you look at him, it's impossible not to feel awe at Gojo. He's a god, the embodiment of thunder, of power, created to perfection- his only imperfection being a soul tie he shares with a mortal.

Your voice seems to snap him back out of his thoughts, or maybe it's the way your heart pace picking up that startles the man. That alone makes you hurt even more- that he's grown sensitive to your heartbeat after witnessing it die under his touch countless of times.

He doesn't know you know any of this, of course. Gojo doesn't talk about your shared past; he doesn't mention how he had to see you die many times, doesn't let you sense the pain, the fear he goes through.

"Nothing's wrong, love." He caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckle, a playful smile turning his frown upside down. "I was just thinking about stuff."

"What stuff?"

He misses a beat before answering, but he's good at masking it with a chuckle. "God stuff," he sighs exaggeratedly, "tough being the strongest god, you know."

You smile back at him, not pondering on it, but you can't shake off the feeling that he has something bothering him, weighing on the god of thunder.

It reminds you of the night a serpent had visited you, the talk, the truth it gave you. The pain it gifted you.

"This- this isn't the first time we met?" You ask the man who first came as a serpent. He's big, as big as the other gods; he must be one, as well.

Skin littered with tattoos, marks, and scars, scarlet eyes bore into yours that's the exact opposite of your god, but nonetheless, as unearthly beautiful.

"Of course it isn't! He never told you?" The man laughs. Sukuna, he calls himself. "B-but how? Why?" You blurt out, confused, not aware how tight of a fist you've made your hands.

Sukuna quirks a brow at you, openly mocking your naivety. "How else did you think a soultie between a god and a mortal would go?"

"I-" You start to speak, you don't want to talk to him anymore- you have a sick feeling bubbling inside your chest, but he cuts you off. "You're a mortal!" He laughs. "He's a god- immortal. Your lifespan compared to his is like a grain of salt in a beach."

"He never- he never told me we met before." You speak, a mere whisper that's more likely spoken for yourself rather than the god watching you.

"I can see why he does that. Gojo wants to protect his little mortal- he can get a little obsessive at times, too, but that must be a given after watching your lover die."

~

"Gojo?" You call his name one sleepless night, even the sound of rain on your window not enough to lull you into sleep. You don't have to open your eyes to know he's there; he always is when you need him anyway.

The only light source is the lightning twirling in the room; it illuminates his face when Gojo raises his hand to push his hair out of his face. "Can't sleep?"

"No."

"We can talk, if you want." He offers, and you bite your lip before taking the offer. He knows it makes you feel safe when you hear his voice; Gojo always tells you stories and memories he has as a god. "Tell me about Cronus." You usher for him to narrate the same story you've heard many times; it's one you like a lot.

But this time, you have one more reason to ask; to know more about his brother, Sukuna.

Gojo chuckles at the way your eyes focus on his hand dangling from his side, your eyes following the movement of the lightning that ties him to you.

As a cute little smile settles on your futures, one almost looks loving, and Gojo once again finds himself wondering if you'd fall in love with him if your soul hadn't forced you to.

"You seem awfully interested in my stories today," he laughs. "You usually fall asleep as soon as I start talking. I don't even know if I should be offended or not."

"You have a nice voice." You tell him with a smile. "It sounds... familiar."

You don't notice it, but your words seem to alarm the god just a little. He quickly masks it with a smile, leaning forward that your noses almost touch. "Why are you awake today, then? Is something bothering my lightning thief?"

You chuckle at the playful name, but the tension in the air seems to rise as the moment passes. "No, I'm just a little curious. How old are you, Gojo?"

His brows go up at your question, eyes narrowing just a little. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." You assure him, but it's obvious he doesn't believe it. Still, he answers. "Very old," Gojo smiles. "Maybe as old as time itself."

You nod, turning your eyes to the tie swinging from your pinky. After a few minutes of silence, you're speaking once again. "How long have we had this tie, then?"

~

"Gojo wants to protect his little mortal- he can get a little obsessive at times, too, but that must be a given after watching your lover die." Sukuna smiles; it's sickeningly big, looking at you with expecting, wide eyes. The god gets what he wants.

Your eyes widen in terror, in realization, hand coming up to cover your lips. "He watched me die?" Your words come out as a wretched gasp, it's everything the god wanted, but Sukuna is yet to blow the final blow.

"Of course he did!" He shouts; it's obvious he's having his fun, eyes glinting with the newfound happiness of playing with a mortal. Even better that all he's saying is the truth, too. "Countless of times, even we lost count after millions."

"No- that's not- that can't be true." You squirm- it all makes sense, why he gets so anxious as much as a cut breaks your skin, his over-the-top behavior to get you back healthy when you have a cough. "He has to wait years before you appear back on earth, before he finds you again- just to watch you die."

It hurts, it burns; you never knew words could be so unbearably painful."Why are you telling me this?" You sob, the thought of your lover not leaving your thoughts; he had to endure this all himself, he watched this cruel cycle all his life, he lost you- Gojo lost you and had to move on countless times.

"To help him, of course." The god answers you. "I want to break- free my brother from this curse. Don't you want to, as well?"

free him.

from your love, he means.

"You hurt him." Sukuna adds with a wicked grin. "Each time you die, you hurt him even more. Don't you want to stop it?"

"Yes," you whisper, sobbing as you nod. "Yes- I don't want to see Gojo hurt- please help me, please, please, help me!"

"Of course, I will." The serpent god is generous, after all.

~

Sometimes you wish you never knew.

It's selfish, you know.

But when Sukuna told you how to break the cycle- your first thought was that you wished you never knew. It plagues you, your heart, your mind, your soul- the brutal truth, the simple thing you have to do to save the one person you truly care about.

"I can't do it," you'd told the serpent. "I can't."

He'd laughed at that, as if he had always expected this was your answer, one bordering a shout that told you to run, get out, something is very wrong. "Are you that selfish, mortal girl? You can't do this one little thing- you'd rather let him spend the rest of his life like this?"

He's right, you know. You can't let your lover suffer anymore just because you're afraid.

So you take the knife the serpent has to offer.

~

It's simple. Maybe a little too simple.

All you need to do is die for your love instead of dying despite it.

"This has been an ongoing cycle because your soul refuses to cut your ties with his, fights death for it." Sukuna had tells you as he ushers the blade in your hands. "This time, you're going to cut it yourself."

The metal knife feels cold under your fingers, your lips tremble when you even think of leaving Gojo. For eternity. You don't want to, don't want to lose him, your life, your tie- but it's for him.

As soon as you grip the knife, the serpent leaves for the night, leaving you with the horrible feeling of what's to come.

You drop the knife as if it burns you, metal hitting the stone floor with a loud clang. As if it pulls your energy with it, you fall on the floor, as well, forming a ball as you bury your face in your knees, sobbing mindlessly.

I don't want to die.

"Don't be a crybaby." You tell yourself. "You can- will do it- for Gojo." Your trembling hand reaches for the knife once again, the silver reflecting the moonlight. "For him, for him, for him."

He's the only thought you have as the knife breaks your skin, as you cry out in pain, as warm blood starts coloring your dress dark.

"For him for him for him," you keep repeating. You don't catch the dark chuckle coming from the night, but you do hear Gojo calling your name. The thread of lightning sweeps on the floor, soiled by fresh blood and dirt- it's broken, he realizes in horror.

"What did you do?" Gojo cries as he takes you in between his arms. "What did you do- Y/N, what did you do?"

As you notice how genuinely terrified his beautiful blue eyes look- it's only then you understand just what you caused.

You broke the bond- and it's your fault you'll never meet again.

~

"Can you stop eating, and act like a fucking adult for at least a minute?" You force from behind your teeth. "You're going to blow our cover!"

The man in question doesn't even spare you a glance, rolling his eyes from behind his black eye-band, thinking you can't tell when he does. Or maybe he does know you can see it when he rolls his eyes at you but doesn't care. When he (half)finishes chewing his chips, Gojo mocks you by repeating your words back to you in an exaggerated voice and a snarky smile.

He's more than aware of how your hands twitch beside you to punch him as hard as you can, how you grit your teeth together and narrow your eyes at him. Oh, he annoys you so beautifully.

Your hands itch to squeeze the life out of the blindfolded man as he laughs at your expression and keeps on eating- you can picture your fist hitting his annoyingly perfect white teeth, pushing them in and making him unable to chew anything for a while- ah, good dreams.

Gojo Satoru, the most annoying and unbearable man you were unlucky enough to encounter, and even worse, have him as your partner. Temporary partner, at least, but that single word wasn't enough to soothe your anger after living the worst three weeks of your life.

He's doing it on purpose, of course.

Gojo has always been the type to have fun getting a kick out of people, but with you, both he and you know he's overplaying it.

If he's honest, even Gojo himself doesn't know why he's so hellbent on making your life miserable- it isn't something you did or said, but a guttural feeling that makes the god so uneasy, he has to make you feel that way, as well.

"I don't know why you're so fixated on this stupid plan of yours." He speaks between his chewing, making you wince. "It must be because you're weak."

Oh, to kick him in the balls.

"No, it's cause I'm not an idiot like you who goes into fights without a second thought."

"Just say you're boring and go." He huffs, pulling out his phone and scrolling down, making you huff out in annoyance. In truth, Gojo knows it's the opposite. You're not boring, on the contrary, he finds you a little too amusing.

You have the kind of charm that brings a smile to everyone's face, a spicy personality that makes you argue with people for fun, your kindness that has even Nanami a little softer. You're awfully attractive, have a smudge of dark humor and a loving smile-

You're everything and anything a guy could ever want, and Gojo thinks that's the most annoying thing ever.

He doesn't know what that feeling is that prickles his skin when you accidentally brush against him, that sickness bubbling in his chest when you first met him, smiling brightly.

"I'm not boring, I'm just cautious." You huff at the handsome man that gives you a mocking look. "That's what a boring person would say. I don't need to be cautious, you know, I can beat anyone with ease, they should be cautious of me."

"Of your massive fucking ego, more like." You mumble. "What, are you gonna call yourself a god, too?"

"I might as well be one." He leans forward to you, you can almost smell the chips he'd been eating. He's so close- so pretty up close, that you seem unable to get any words out of your mouth, left speechless, even when he has his eye-band on.

"Wh- what is this?" You stutter, trying to hide how flustered you feel by lashing out. "An extreme case of god complex?"

"No," he laughs, finally pulling back to give you room to breathe. "Just telling the truth."

"Yeah, whatever." You turn your eyes away from the handsome man, pure-white hair reflecting the red and green light coming from the street, his smile making you shiver. "Let's just get this over with."

~

You fought well.

Gojo has to admit you did, even though you're a little roughed up, you took high-grade curses by yourself without being much of an obstacle for him, and that isn't something Gojo gets to feel during a fight with a partner.

His gaze falls on you, sitting next to him on the bench as you wait for your ride to take you back to jujutsu high. You have your arms wrapped around you, not much to shield you from the chilly breeze of the night. Cuts and bruises litter your arms, even though nothing to worry about, the sight still has Gojo feeling somewhat uneasy.

You're unaware of Gojo's gaze, fighting the exhaustion that pulls you to a deep slumber. Your head lolls dangerously close to Gojo; he finds himself holding his breath as he can feel yours fanning against his neck. You look so vulnerable, cute, even, without that disgusted frown you have whenever you talk with him.

Minutes feel like hours as Gojo can only try and busy himself with his phone, leg bouncing as he waits for the shuttle to come already. As he decides the best option is to wake you up, he feels a weight falling on his shoulder.

He freezes.

Finally having somewhere you can rest your head on, Gojo feels you shuffle even closer to him in your half-asleep state, your face almost touching his neck, your steady breaths making him shiver. You... you fit so nicely against his chest, as if you were made to be there, it feels so right, makes him feel so ease, he can just rest his head atop yours and fall asleep as well, a slumber he hasn't head in thousands of years, maybe.

He suddenly sprints on his feet.

The sudden movement jerks you awake, confused eyes finding the frantic-looking man standing before you. "Is the ride-"

"Don't!" He almost shouts at you; it's the first time you've seen him so serious- so worried. "Don't touch me."

Touch him?

It takes you a few seconds to understand what he means, feeling hurt coiling in you when you do. "O-oh," you can only whisper, "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to, I just fell asleep."

He still doesn't look convinced; you notice his hands are trembling.

Oh.

You don't say anything, couldn't even if you tried to, afraid the tears welling in your eyes will spill if you do. You knew Gojo hated you, he made it as clear as he could, but you never thought- he hated you this much.

Too proud to apologize, he stands there awkwardly, can't bring himself to sit back down as you wait in silence for the rest of the night.

"Oh, thank god." He hears you mutter as a black car turns around the corner and comes near you. You jump on your legs, rushing to the door so you can get in as soon as possible when you hear him call your name.

"I-" Gojo tries to speak, hand resting on the back of his neck, face tinted pink due to cold, or maybe it's something else, but you shake your head no. "There's nothing to explain."

When he opens the door after you, you have your head resting against the window, eyes once again falling weak to exhaustion, but as soon as he gets in, you jerk yourself awake, sitting upright without giving him a second glance.

~

"Is everything okay between you and Gojo-sensei?" Itadori asks a while after that night you went with Gojo. "You've been acting weird ever since you went to kick some curse ass."

You snort. If even Itadori caught up, you really must be obvious, you think. "Nothing out of the ordinary," you shrug, taking a sip from your coffee to give yourself some time. Even thinking about the incident has you cringing internally. "You know, the usual. We never liked each other."

"Oh?" He blinks. "I thought you were good friends?"

"Good friends?!" You almost spit out your coffee. "How did you get that idea?"

The pink-haired boy shrugs. "I don't know, it just feels like it. Gojo-sensei works best with you and you with him, you tease each other a lot, too. You seem in sync."

Sync. It's the last word you'd think of to explain your relationship with the man in question.

But Itadori is right. Something did change between you two. Gojo doesn't tease you anymore; on the contrary, he keeps his distance from you as much as he can, not talking to you if he doesn't need to-, and truthfully, that makes your wound ache just a little more.

You're not one to say you enjoyed him teasing you, but this feels a lot more awkward, and watching him be so at ease, have fun and laugh with anyone else has you feeling a little- ahh, you don't even know at this point.

"Huh? I have to go." Itadori jumps on his feet. "Thank you for the coffee, sensei!" He doesn't forget to shout, smiling as he sprints down the corridor. You hear him voice out a small oh on his way down, but you think he probably stumbled over his untied laces.

A sigh leaves your lips as you rub your temples, turning back to your computer to finish your paperwork.

"In sync, he says." A voice speaks behind you, making you jump in your seat.

"Shit!" You curse as you turn to the door, your eyes falling on the last person you'd want to see, leaning on the door frame with a pink bag hanging from his fingers. "Oh, did I scare you?" He grins, and you can't not roll your eyes.

"No, that's a new way of greeting people, haven't you heard?" Your answer makes him huff out a laugh as he casually walks in and plops himself on the seat Itadori just left.

"As humorous as always, I see."

"As annoying as always for you, as well. What are you doing here?"

"Am I not welcome?" He quirks a brow; he's wearing one of his sunglasses today, the crystal-blue of his eyes peek from where the black-glass can't cover, leaving you in a vulnerable state you don't want to be in.

"Not even a bit."

Gojo grins.

"I come with a peace offering, though." He tells you as he hands you the pink bag he was holding. You take it from the man suspiciously; it's warm, smelling like a bakery would fresh in the morning. "Doughnuts."

When you stand there, not sure how to proceed as you hold the bag in your hands, Gojo raises a brow mockingly. "Did my generosity leave you frozen?"

"I feel like I shouldn't eat without seeing you eat one first." You ignore his remark, peeking in the bag with a suspicious frown.

"Oh come on!" Gojo lets out a laugh. "Am I really that unreliable?" He laughs even more when you don't miss a beat before answering. "You are."

"Okay, okay." He shakes his head from side to side. "I was going to eat some, anyway."

He reaches in the bag, picking one from the many, bringing it to his mouth when you-

"Wait!"

Gojo's hand freezes when you shout, eyes wide in fear. "What?" His brows furrow, inspecting the doughnut. "Is there something-" he's still speaking as you make a reach for it, taking the white powdered doughnut from his hands in a swift motion. "I'll eat this one." You grin.

There are a few minutes of silence as Gojo tries to process what happened, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he smiles. "Oh, you little-"

"Huh? Can't hear you from how delicious this is."

He stays quiet, and he's grateful you don't notice the smile, a genuine, almost loving smile he has as he watches you gulp down the dessert. Gojo's quick to wipe it off his face, but the feeling isn't that easily suppressed. You raise your gaze back to the white-haired man as you take a sip of your coffee to finish it off. You have to admit the man has taste when it comes to desserts.

"I'll take that my peace offering is accepted?"

"I'll think about it." You shrug, mood fouling as soon as you remember why he's here. "Why come with one, anyway? You never wanted to be friends with me, what's with the sudden change of heart?"

He ponders over your question for a while, eyes darting around the room and finding you again. "Felt like it." He simply states, not expecting you to snort.

"That might be the worst possible answer you could've given."

You feel your heart missing a beat when Gojo grins, giving you a look over his glasses, meeting you with the most beautiful blue gaze. "It is, isn't it? But it is the truth."

~

"For fucks sake- that hurts!" Gojo whines for the thousandth time that night, and you ignore it just as many times.

"Y/N!" He groans, and you finally let go of Gojo's hair strands, sticky, green, and gross with some suspicious liquid a curse threw at him.

He had begged you to help him wash it off- by help, he meant whining like a baby each time you even put pressure on his oh-so-precious hair.

"Oh, shut it already, you big baby." You murmur, your voice not doing the best job at hiding your smile, so you turn your back at the man watching you take some more cream in your hands.

"Where did that god complex go, anyway? You were the one bragging about being a god, weren't you?"

"And?" Gojo huffs, true-blue eyes staring at you from the mirror with a childlike pout. "can't gods feel pain?"

You let out a laugh, turning your focus back on his head and pushing it downwards so you can reach the crown. Even while sitting, you're almost the same height, you realize. Tall motherfucker.

"I don't know, you tell me. I'm not as much of an asshole to claim to be a god." Your answer seems to amuse him, but his chuckle cuts off with yet another whine.

"Ow!" He frowns when you slide your fingers on a section of strands, pulling the green substance off of them. "Can't you be at least a little more gentle?"

"No, but I can just stop and leave you to it." You roll your eyes. "This isn't fun for me either."

"I bet it isn't." Gojo mocks you with a look sent your way through the mirror. "How can spending time with me not be fun?"

"Are you aware how bad you smell, Satoru?" You mutter mindlessly, not realizing how easy his first name rolls off your tongue. You're too focused on working a stubborn gulp of green off of his hair as Gojo stills under your touch at the sound of his name, eyes widening and heart missing a beat.

"What?" You ask crossly as he gulps loudly, brows furrowing. "Are you still whining?"

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up." He mutters, watching you smile at yourself proudly at making the Gojo Satoru retreat. He deems it's endearing. He thinks you have the prettiest smile. The funniest reactions. The most beautiful smell. A kind touch.

Even as you pull on his hair so that he might end up bald at the end of it, Gojo relishes in your touch, loves it, craves it, misses it. Fuck- he hates it.

Gojo isn't an idiot; he's lived far too long not to know what's happening, what he's feeling. And somehow, that makes it worse.

"Wow, never seen the Gojo Satoru stay quiet for more than five minutes." You tease the man, pulling on his hair rather harshly to make him jump in his seat. You can't help the giggle that makes its way out of your lips when he sends you a cross look.

"Trying to cope with pain, thank you very much." He mutters, but there's a smile on his lips, as well.

You're a little surprised as he keeps his quiet for the rest of the operation, leaving you two to a peaceful silence as you work your way on his hair, the scary kind of intimacy only shared between-

"And- I think it's done!" You exclaim in victory as you let go of Gojo's hair-conditioner-soaked head. "Go wash the excess or something, and the rest is up to you."

Gojo is leaning over the sink as you talk, inspecting himself on your mirror. "Oh," you say before leaving him to his narcissistic bullshit. "Never call me for something like this again."

"What?" He gasps in fake hurt. "You'd rather me ask Nanami?"

"No, I'd rather you shave your head." You smile as you close the door from behind you. "Oh, Y/N, don't forget!" Gojo shouts after you. "Don't forget our date!"

Your date.

You hated how -despite knowing it was Gojo being a teasing asshole- hearing that alone made your heart skip a beat. It wasn't anything that even resembled a date, just meeting the new first-year student, but Gojo liked to tease.

When you leave him alone, Gojo groans after you.

Loudly, too.

He finds himself rubbing his pinky; it's a nervous habit that calms him off, that reminds him of the old love the God used to have.

Used to, he reminds himself.

It took him hundreds, thousands of years to bury this feeling that was now resurfacing- no, this was different.

His soul was tied to another back then; he had his other half, his one and only love. What he felt for you was nothing but a mere attraction, if he could even call it that. There was no way Gojo would fall for yet another mortal.

...

right?

right.

~

"Gojo," you whisper, voice strained. "Gojo, I can't go on."

Your hushed whisper hits the cave walls, blending with the sound of water dripping. When you try to take another step, the pain from your most definitely broken ankle jolts up your body, making you cry out. "I'm sorry- I can't go on, let alone fight." You tell the man again, who is also hurt, trying to get you to walk with him- cmon, just a little more.

For the first time you've seen him, Gojo looks desperate. His eyes are wide frantically, darting around the dirty walls for an escape route, but he knows- Gojo knows he can't escape.

He could've if he was alone, or maybe if he just had you-

But not with the new student in there.

He groans, the blood he's losing making it harder to feel warm. Oddly enough, his hand that holds you feels warmer than any other part of his body.

But here you were, both hurt, not vitally but enough cause one.

"Fuck- just hold on a little more, Y/N." Gojo holds you steady when you stumble over your own legs. "I promise I'll get us out of here."

"No, I-" You try to reason, but it's apparent the man falls deaf to your cries, stuck in his head to find something. Some way out.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This day was only about meeting the new student and teasing you the whole day, and you weren't supposed to be in this cave; you weren't supposed to fight curses- the student wasn't supposed to be captured by them, either.

"Gojo there is no other way!" You cry out, hoping he doesn't catch on the slight tremble in your voice. "You have to save the kid, and I can't go on." When he shakes his head denyingly, unconsciously nuzzling his face to the touch you have on his face, you smile bitterly. "I can take care of myself, you have to go."

"Gojo!" You call out once again, your hand sliding up his shoulder. "Gojo fucking- listen to me!" It's only when your hand cups his cheek you pull him out of his panicked haze, the bluest gaze finding you. "You have to-"

"No."

"Leave me here." You finish your sentence, sending him a cross glare. "No," he repeats, the grip he has on your arm tightening, warning you not to press it, he won't listen, but you're as stubborn as him, aren't you?

You take a shaky breath when the handsome man finally shakes his head, mirroring the bitter smile you have on your lips. It's such an intimate moment, one you've never experience with anyone, and certainly not with him, but somehow, it feels almost nostalgic. A feeling of sadness lingers on both your chests as Gojo finally nods at you, your hand falling off his face.

"I'll come back for you." He mutters as he starts walking, speaking without thinking, "you hear me? I won't leave you here."

It hurts- for some reason, the words he speaks are painful, more than your wounds, more than the hopeless situation you're in. "Of course, you will." You want to answer. "You always do." Words tingling on the tip of your tongue, you choose to bite them, instead.

What is this feeling? This feeling that has your body shaking, making you tremble with sobs? You don't know. It feels like a terrible longing to the man that had just left you, like you've been waiting for him thousands of years, a burn of grief in your body that makes you want to cry out in pain. It's like you're losing something- like- like--

"Come find me, Gojo." Your voice bounces off the walls, now too far away from the God.

come find me.

Come find me.

He keeps hearing the sentence in his head, feels so strangely familiar to-

you.

He stills in his place, the god of thunder, when his body remembers before his heart does, remembering your touch from thousands, millions of years ago, identical to the way you had just held him. With a cry of relief, of fear settling in the back of his throat, Gojo turns back around- running to you, to find you, one last time.

You're back, it took him too long to understand, but you're back, you held your promise, his lightning thief, no matter how far he runs, you'll always find him.

Even without a tie that binds your souls.

Gojo finally has an answer to his question.

Are your souls tied to each other because you're in love, or are you in love because of the shared tie?

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

HI HELLO I WOULD LIKE TO EXPRESS MY LOVE AND ADMIRATION FOR U AND BOW DOWN TO UR CREATIVE WRITING GENIUS AND GODLINESS IN AN EXTREMELY LONG ASK

i would also like to say, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGJJGSLJJSKDJJJFJKSDFJSJFJSODJFDFJ”

that was live footage of me reading wrong number asshole bECAUSE THAT SERIES WAS JUST SO ❗️❗️❗️DAMN ❗️❗️❗️GOOD❗️❗️

Everything. the nervous and overthinking reader. bakugo being a major douchebag tsundere. wingman kirishima. the GOD-TIER HUMOR. THE POP ROCKS!!!!!! EVERYTHING WAS ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR.

I’ll be honest, when i realized it was part smau i was like ehhhh i dont rly know BUT U BLEW MY EXPECTATIONS COMPLETELY OUT OF THE WATER. you ... YOU are such a RARE tumblr gem and i say that bc there are only a few select people who have the ✨quality✨ of writing that you do. And I’m a very picky reader, so that’s saying something. I really, REALLY loved the way u portray bakugo. Because he’s more than just an angry Pomeranian, he also has his own insecurities and things that he genuinely really cares about. And i think it just goes to show how good of a writer you are because i can tell you really did a deep character analysis of him and it was anything but superficial.

i read wrong number for the first time back in may and was secretly reading it during math class AND SO many hours of sleep were lost over this but it was 100% worth it 😁😁😁

at the end of pretty much every chapter was me just screaming into my pillow in the darkness of my room at like 2 am. i also just recently reread it and OH MY GOD i forgot how funny the first few parts are. Also !!! The way i fRICKIN RELATE TO Y/N JESUS CHRIST I FELT EVERYTHING IN MY SOUL

here are some of my favorite lines from the series:

“But I also think you tend to fixate on reasons to leave instead of looking for reasons to stay.”

Yeahhhhh, when i read this for the first time I literally said oof. out loud. because that’s literally me. This line just,,, hit me yk.

It was an insecurity of yours, always believing that you had to be the one in the wrong. That the only reason someone could ever be upset was because you made them that way.

YEAH REMEMBER HOW I SAID I RELATED TO Y/N. YEAH. IT”S THIS.

Instead of him, it was just you- alone and waiting and etched with a ugly tattoo you should’ve never expected to guarantee forever.

ok so i rly like this line partly because again, i relate, but also just the WORDS. UGHHH that last part “you should’ve never expected to guarantee forever’ STOP EYE-

It’s strange- the way your heart seems to be breaking entirely and rebuilding itself completely all at the same time. It’s a wave crashing against your ribs- pushing and pulling and tumbling and pushing and pulling and turning and twisting and- calming when you look at his face. When you look at the way his hair sits and the way his jaw slopes and the way his eyes meet yours. It’s death and completetion and rebirth and red, red wildfire.

It’s your old life scorching and curling and burning up. And it’s your new, better, warmer life rising from the ashes.

AAAAAAASKDFJSDKLFJDS THE IMAGERY THE RHYTHM OH MY GOODNESS THE TALENT

Something in his eyes seems so tiny and small and unsure at your words, and it breaks your heart. There aren’t enough words in the world for all you want to say in that moment, so you just take his head in your hands, kiss him with every bit of care and concern you hold for him.

When you pull back, he won’t look at you, his cheeks gone nearly as red as his vulnerable eyes. His shoulders shake, and he takes a deep breath, turning his head to place a tiny little kiss into the palm of your hand. He doesn’t say anything, but the tiny action communicates almost everything you need to know.

PLS BC I AM VERY TOUCHSTARVED SO JUST THE IDEA OF BAKUGO KISSING MY PALM AAAAHHHHHHHH

Bakugou fights it, going rigid and stiff and resitant at first. He hardly looks at you, just barely, but you catch his gaze and nod. It’s all it takes before he’s allowing himself to sink into you, his arms pulling you closer.

It’s hesitancy, than acceptance and than desperation, and suddenly he’s holding you so tightly, clutching at you like you’re gonna fade. Like you’ll slip through his calloused fingers. It makes you ache. Sends volts of throbbing pain through your chest that have you squeezing him tighter.

It makes you want to sob- the way he seemed so resistant to softness despite being so obviously starved for it. You wondered if anyone else had stuck around this long; if anyone else had noticed just how desperate he was for someone to finally hear him.

again. THE IMAGERY. JUST SEEING HIM SLOWLY MELT INTO A HUG AND THEN SQUEEZE YOU AS TIGHT AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE AAAAAAAAA SOMEONE GIVE THIS TOUCHSTARVED BOI A KISS ON THE FOREHEAD oh wait y/n already did that ahaha

The completion you’d felt from this kiss far surpassed the charged kisses from earlier. This was kissing him just because you could, because you wanted to, and you were sure this was heaven- at least, as close to heaven as any one human should ever be allowed to get.

It felt like flying, like hurtling above the earth and surging through the clouds. Like you were Icarus and you breached the atmosphere to soar against the surface of the sun. His hands fell to the base of your spine, pressing you firmly against him, and suddenly you knew. Knew it for sure, in your bones like it’d always been carved in there-you might’ve been Icarus, but he’d never let you fall. You would get to blister and scorch and burn for as long as you’d wanted but your wax would never melt. There was no fear when falling with him. Falling for him.

You pull away, but you don’t go too far. Don’t think you could separate even if you tried. Katsuki was an addiction, a powerful, potent thing and the only salve for that itch in your skin was being close to him. As close as you could possibly manage.

NOT THE ICARUS METAPHOR PLS ARE U TRYING TO MAKE ME FALL EVEN MORE IN LOVE WITH THIS SERIES EYE- ONCE AGAIN UR WRITING TALENT BLOWS ME AWAY

“Good.” He mumbles juvenilely, looking anywhere to avoid your eyes. “Die then. Fuckin’ burn, you witch.”

I remember the first time i read this i FRICKIN DIED OMG IT WAS SO FUNNY i was crying at like 3 am

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him in, guiding until his lips met yours. You felt him smile as you kissed him, and you realized you were wrong. That first real kiss might’ve been nice; but it wasn’t heaven- itwas only the gateway to paradise. But this? This was the real Elysium.

His body moved against yours, so close and warm and pliant. He was letting you set the pace, without resistance or force or argument for the very first time. There had been a lot of past kisses, you had hardly been able to keep yourself off of him, but none of them had never felt like this before. He’d never trusted you like this before. You got to be the one taking and taking and taking where’d you spent so long giving.

It was consummation. Finality. Your perfect ending.

*SCREAMS*

AGAIN WITH THE GREEK MYTHOLOGY THIS REALLY IS THE PERFECT FIC ON GOD

i’ll have u know that this is my Official Designated Comfort Fic (insert trademark symbol).

THANK YOU. YOU ARE A WRITING GOD. I BOW DOWN TO YOUR GREATNESS. Also sorry for this extremely long ask and the overwhelming use of caps lock

have u ever,, have u ever read something that brings literal tears to ur eyes. that brings so much serotonin that its almost criminal

bc this, this ask is everything for me. u rllY SAID THAT MY FIC IS UR DESIGNATED COMFORT FIC?? THATS MY FAVORITE THING ANYONE HAS EVER SAID TO ME

YOU HAVE FAVORITE LINES?? FROM SOMETHING I WROTE??? DO U- I literally cannot even begin to describe how much this means to me.

@ur-local-reality-shifter , i adore u my lovely

[thirsty-flygirl]

I'd like to ask about any WIP with Benny Miller.... Please 😘❤️‍🔥❤️❣️

Oof, Benny Miller has been occupying way too many of my thoughts lately. He's just such a dreamboat, and I love playing around with different situations for him.

Of the WIPs listed, two are Benny-centric: Benny and the Ex (obviously) and Days (which is probably the lamest title ever, and it will definitely change.

Benny and the Ex is a new little fic based on a song I heard and the idea that there's that one ex that you never 100% get over. No matter who comes and goes, there's always that little spark that doesn't go away. Anyway, here's a rough little blurb that I began writing when this idea took hold:

“There is not a single person I would ever get back together with,” Santiago insisted, throwing back another shot of tequila. It was Friday night and you were out unwinding with your friends, the conversation meandering from topic to topic.

You wished this particular topic would go away.

Just as you were trying to hide between Frankie and Will, Santi’s eyes met yours.

“How do you guys handle it? Being friends after you dated?”

Your eyes flicked to Benny's, an immediate reaction settling deep in your stomach. How did you do it? Lots of telling yourself you were better friends than lovers? A decent number of years since you'd been together, other partners over the years that were perfect on paper, but not in your heart?

You shrugged at Santiago, decidedly turning your gaze from the intense look Ben was giving you. “It's been forever since we dated, we’re just better off as friends.”

Benny offered you a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Yeah, just not compatible like that,” he agreed. He lifted his pint glass and took a healthy swig, rolling it around in his mouth and swallowing before repeating your words.

“Better off friends.”

Hearing him say it out loud still stung, even though you’d admitted the same. Probably because even as you’d uttered the words, you knew what a lie they were. Not only had you and Ben been good at the other shit, but you had never had it better.

****

And here's a little bit of Days, which is about Benny and an older reader (current call sign is "Six;" that may change. We always see age gap fics where reader is younger, but I wondered what it would look like when reader is older and has all the insecurities of being an aging woman falling for a younger man, even though this little clip doesn't highlight that issue much (trust me, though, Ben doesn't care at all!):

“He likes you, you know,” Frankie offered as way of greeting when you flopped down on the grass next to him. Twelve miles still felt like a fucking marathon, even when Redfly called it a “warm up.”

You laid back for a moment, appreciating the ocean-blue sky above you. Bragg wasn’t much to write home about, but Carolina was a hell of a lot prettier than the middle of the desert. You wanted to ignore Frankie and his not-so-subtle attempt at getting you to admit that something was going on between you and Benny, but the truth was, you couldn’t have divulged anything if you wanted to - you had no idea what the thing between you was.

“He likes everyone,” you grumbled from where you lay splayed out, “I’ve never met anyone so genuinely happy.”

Frankie gave a soft, cynical snort from beside you. That was one of things you liked best about him – he was a cynic by nature, just like you. You learned quickly as a child not to expect anything from the world around you and Frankie had a similar mindset: the lower the expectations, the softer the fall when it all went to shit. “Ben just likes to be liked,” he said fondly, “honestly, I wish I was a little more like him.”

The man in question turned and jogged toward where the two of you sat. He snatched the water bottle Frankie held and gulped the rest of it before grinning down at you.

“What happened out there, Sixie? You were keeping up and then I lost you.”

Cupping your hand over your eyes to shield them from the glare of the sun, you rolled your eyes. “What can I say, Ben? My old ass just can’t hang with you kids anymore.”

He laughed loudly at your sarcasm, crouching down in front of you to meet your eyes. “Redfly is old, SIx. Frankie is old.” His eyes, the color of the sky above you, glittered with amusement and something sincere. “You are not old.”

The intensity in his gaze took your breath away for a moment. It was times like this, when your eyes locked and everything around you fell away, that you wondered if there was something real between you, something that could last. But then the rest of the world would rush in and those thoughts would scatter to the farthest recesses of your mind.

“SIx! Get off your ass and help Pope set up the ropes!” Redfly’s voice shot through your moment with Benny, like ice water cascading over sun-warmed skin. You offered Benny a crooked grin as he rose and helped you up.

“That’s my cue, boys,” you offered wryly, brushing the grass off your ass. As you made your way over to where Pope stood, you tried to forget Frankie’s words and the flutter in your stomach at the thought of them being true.

[romanoffswifey]

Stupid Sexy Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Tony takes the avengers on a snowy retreat, where he finds out about your crush on Natasha. He and Clint convince you to do something a little bit stupid and it does not go according to plan. At least you get Natasha’s attention.

Contents/Warnings: Fluffy fluff, some dumbass energy from many people

Words: 1,539

AN - Yes, this was absolutely originally inspired by that one Simpsons scene and it would not let me rest until I had written it. Stupid sexy Flanders.

“Woah, Y/N, I didn’t know you could shred like that,” Tony says as you come skidding to a stop next to him and Clint on the alpine snow.

The billionaire had decided to take you all on a trip to a Swiss ski resort, in the name of relaxation and team bonding.

“There’s a dry ski slope about an hour away from the town I grew in, I haven’t been in a long while but I guess snowboarding is like riding a bike,” you offer. Plopping yourself down near Clint, who was currently sitting on Steve’s shield after he’d been using it as a sledge.

“Maybe now you’re here you can convince Stark to actually go down the mountain, instead of just standing here like a baby,” the archer points to the man’s skis, “you know they have instructors here to teach you how to use those things.”

Tony scoffs. “I don’t need any instructing, Barton. It can’t be that hard surely, I mean children can do it.”

“You could always ask our friendly god of hammers for some pointers,” you say, gesturing behind you as Thor shoots past, screaming with joy. The asgardian had turned out to be surprisingly good at the winter sport and was currently having the time of his life.

When the men next to you descend into bickering, you zone out. Letting your gaze wander until it lands on Natasha, who’s stood chatting with Steve further down the slope.

You’d had a crush on the redhead ever since you’d met her during the whole thing with Loki, but hadn’t said anything to her in fear of ending up looking like an idiot. 

Clint was the only one who knew and he’d been pretty useless at helping. Simply teasing you about it, as he’d decided to be an adult, for once, and respect Natasha’s privacy on the matter.

You sigh softly as you look at her now. She was beautiful, and kind of cute, with her little bobble hat and her googles on top of her head. The tips of her nose and ears slightly pink from the cold, and her flawless tresses only highlighted by the white around her.

As you follow the fall of her hair down to her outfit, you inhale sharply, coughing as the icy air hits the back of your throat.

The assassin was clad in a black and red ski suit, with a close enough fit that you could see the lines of her muscles. Along with a great view of her assets. It was safe to say that it left nothing to the imagination, and your imagination was certainly running wild right now.

Your little coughing fit had gained the attention of Tony and Clint. Making them pause their argument and follow your line of slight.

“Well, Romanoff certainly isn’t bothered by the cold. You’d think she’d want to wear something more comfortable since we’re out of the office,” says the billionaire.

“Actually it is comfy, and warm, and incredibly aerodynamic. She got it for this one mission where she had to go undercover as a prospect for the winter olympics,” Clint explains, “I tried it on once. It felt like I was wearing nothing at all.”

That comment did absolutely nothing to help your thoughts, in fact it only made them less PG then they already were. You’re pretty sure the heat coming from your face could turn the slope below you into a waterfall if you put your head close enough.

Unfortunately for you, your flustered state draws Tony’s questioning gaze from the archer to yourself.

“Erm, Y/N are you okay? You look kind of...wait a minute,” his eyes light up as he interrupts himself, “Oh. My. God. You totally have the hots for Romanoff don’t you?”

“Finally, someone noticed,” Clint happily exposes you.

“Barton, you little shit!” you exclaim in shock, repeatedly trying to jab him in the ribs.

“Oh this is great,” Tony laughs before starting to sing, “Y/N and Natasha sitting in a tre-”

“Shut it, Stark,” you hiss. Taking one of his ski poles and smacking him around the back of the legs, causing him to fall on his back in front of the pair of you with a small ‘oof’.

“Rude. But since you’re like the little sister I never had, I’ll elect to ignore it in favour of being the annoying brother right now. Does she know about the little heart eyes routine you got going on over here?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

You roll your eyes. “Does it look like she’s even remotely interested in me?”

“I don’t know, have you tried asking her?”

“This is Natasha Romanoff we’re talking about here, you think I want to risk making a fool out of myself and ruining our friendship?” you sigh dejectedly and put your chin on top of your knees. “And don’t bother asking Clint about it, I already tried,” you add when you see Tony turn toward the man, who was suddenly very quiet.

The billionaire huffs when he notices his glare isn’t doing anything to crack the archer’s resolve. But when his eyes land on the ramps that sat on one half of the snowy incline, the gears in his head start to turn.

His smirk widens when Clint throws him an encouraging look, clearly thinking along the same lines.

“Hey Y/N, why don’t you do a cool trick or something?” Tony asks while nodding toward the ramps.

“What?” you ask in reply, “What makes you think I can even do a trick?”

“Well, it can’t be that hard. I’ve seen you do loads of complicated acrobatics in training, and what about that time you flipped your motorbike over that bridge?”

“I’m sure Nat would be impressed if you did it,” Clint murmurs, trying to be subtle while eating some snow.

You cut your eyes at them both, wondering what they were up to.

“Fine,” you say. Pulling yourself up and setting off down the hill after thinking about it, it would be pretty cool if you did manage to pull it off.

Once you hit one of the bigger ramps, you lock eyes with Natasha, and your whole mind goes blank. You can’t stop staring and you’re quickly reminded of all those thoughts you’d just had. Which was not ideal, considering you had just launched yourself about 20 feet in the air. 

Shit.

Instead of doing some epic flip in the air, you just sail through it and start plummeting to the earth. But lucky for you, you’re an avenger. You’re also heading for a nice pile of snow.

Snow is surprisingly hard, and you groan as you lay buried there, regretting many of your life choices. Not only had you eaten complete shit, you had done it in front of your long time crush. This was the worst trip you had ever been on.

“Leave me to my shame,” you whine as you feel someone undoing your boots from your snowboard before pulling you out by your leg.

Your embarrassment only grows as you look up into green eyes that are filled with worry.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Natasha asks. Checking you over for any sign of blood or broken bones.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, not quite meeting her eyes.

“You gonna explain what that was about then?” she asks with a hint of amusement as she helps you up.

You smile sheepishly and admit, “I was trying to show off.”

“Why?”

Being this close to her now, with her hands still lightly clasping yours and an adorable little frown on her face, you can’t find it in you to lie.

“I was trying to impress you. I really like you Natasha,” you confess quietly.

Her face slackens at your words, and you can feel your stomach sink. You gentle pull your hands from hers, letting out a long breath as you look down. Waiting for whatever her reaction might be.

To your surprise, a gloved hand comes up and cups your jaw. Tilting your head back up before a pair of soft lips land on your own.

You relax into the kiss as she holds you there. Blinking slowly when she pulls back with a sigh.

“I like you too, Y/N,” she says shyly. A smile tugging at her mouth and her face just a bit redder than it was before.

“How come you never said anything?” you ask, still not quite believing this was actually happening.

“I’m not really the best when it come to this whole feelings thing, so I wanted to makes sure that you might have felt the same about me before I did anything,” she trails off.

“Oh.”

The redhead hums. “And for the record you don’t have to impress me. I’ve seen what you can do, it’s pretty badass,” she says with a wink, before holding out her hand. “Now come on, I’ll get you a hot chocolate. Think of it as our first date.”

You can’t help the grin that breaks out onto your face as you take Natasha’s hand and let her drag you back up the mountain. 

Maybe this trip wasn’t so bad after all.

[thiswasinevitableid]

if you’re still taking meet ugly asks, could you do 01 or 13 for sternclay? nsfw please

Here you go! I went with 1.

we were set up on a blind date but it went horribly, so now you message me every time you have a good date because you think your tips will help me in the future, you ass.

Bzzbzz

Joseph picks up his phone and regrets it before he’s even done reading the waiting message.

Barclay: See, this is how you dress for a date at a casual place.

It’s accompanied by a photo of a headless torso, sporting a Ramones T-shirt and blue jeans.

He deletes the message. He told that asshole he was in the suit because Hayes kept him late to finish a report and he didn’t want to be any more behind for their date than he already was.

No, you know what, he’s had enough of this.

J.S: He’s dressed like a college student. No one told me you were a cradle robber.

Barclay: Just trying to help you do better next time ;)

This is the same line he gives Joseph every time he sends one of these texts

“It was great, it felt like a real conversation instead of an interrogation.”

“See, what made tonight nice was he didn’t look at his phone even once.”

“Now, what made this nice is that he didn’t mistake another guy for me on the way in.”

He has reasons, explanations, things that could make him look more like a man who had a bad day and less like the poster boy for the horrors of blind dating. But the one time he tried sharing his side of things, Barclay responded that he wasn’t doing this to make sense of their shitty date, but to make it easier on the next guy.

It was the last date in a long line of increasingly desperate attempts by his loved ones to find someone, anyone, for him to be with; being married to his work fills all his needs. Leave it to his older sister to spot that it wasn’t meeting many of his wants.

Joseph tosses the phone away, retrieves his take-out leftovers from the fridge. As he munches reheated green mango chicken, the city heading out into Friday night revelry without him, he decides that while he’s not about to take dating advice from a guy who can’t pull his head out of his ass long enough to consider someone else’s perspective, Barclay makes one good point: there’s always a next time.

And there’s no moment like the present to start planning for it.

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

Barclay cannot figure out why Logan chose this spot; it’s one step above gay cruising club. Not that he hasn’t had fun at those before, but he was hoping for somewhere quieter. Also somewhere with better food; you can tell a lot about a guy by what he orders, and fuck all about him when the only meal to be found is chips or the olive from a martini glass.

Still not the worst date he’s been on.

As Logan steers the conversation in promisingly steamy directions, Barclay glances at the bar and locks eyes with his biggest disappointment of the year. Joseph raises an eyebrow, then his face goes annoyingly neutral as he looks first at Logan and then to the bartender for another glass.

His date excuses himself and Barclay weighs how much of a dick he wants to be against how good Joseph looks tonight. He’s in a v-neck and a short jacket, dark-wash jeans making it easy to picture how satisfying hooking his legs over Barclays shoulders would be.

Barclay sidles up to the bar, leaning on it and smiling at Joseph, “You finally decide to put my advice to good use?”

“No.” Joseph replies, tarter than a cherry, and goes back to looking at his phone.

“Suit yourself, and have fun going home alone.”

The black-haired man squares his shoulders, turns so that Barclay gets a full-on view of a stunning face and sharp, blue eyes, “At least I won’t be going home with someone who’s using me for a prank video.”

“Pfft, whatever man, you’re just-” Barclay snaps his mouth shut as Joseph turns his phone, showing a Youtube channel hosted by none other than Logan.

“His modus operandi is to have viewers vote on which gay man he should go out with and string along the whole night until he reveals he’s straight.”

“I, I uh, that’s” his heart is in his shoes, “that’s not very nice.”

“That’s not all. There are three cameras recording your date.” Joseph points to three separate guys, “they’re using their phones, makes it hard to prove they’re not just texting or something else innocuous.”

He might cry. Worse, if he cries, he might owe Joseph an explanation.

“There you are baby, thought you’d run off.” Logan sets a hand on his arm and Barclay freezes, trying to work out a non-humiliating form of escape.

Joseph clears his throat, “Are you aware that recording people without their permission is illegal in this state?”

“Uh, no, but what the fuck does that have to do with me?”

“You, and those three gentleman you’re having film Mr. Cobb here, are all at risk of being charged with a misdemeanor.” Joseph’s voice is smooth and clear, utterly in control, and Barclay gets goosebumps as he pulls out his wallet and flashes an FBI badge, “I suggest you get out of here before you do something you regret.”

The quartet disappears in a cloud of body spray as Barclay slumps onto a stool and Joseph orders two more drinks, sliding one his way. Whiskey Soda, his favorite. He’d ordered it during their date.

They sip in silence for three songs before Joseph says, “I guess I passed the dubious honor of your worst date onto someone else.”

“You’re still a strong runner up.” It’s mean, but Barclay isn’t feeling very chipper right now.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad! I was trying to learn as much about you as I could while switching from work mode to a date.”

“You made me feel like I was doing all the work!”

“If you’d given me more than a half hour of your time I could have fixed that.”

“Nah, I know when a date is doomed. No point in dragging it out. It wasn’t going to be fun.”

“I can be fun!” Joseph knocks back the rest of his drink, “I’ll prove it.”

Barclay snorts, “how?”

“I want a do over. Right now.” Lights dance across his skin and Barclay gets a whiff of gin and mint as he leans so they’re almost nose to nose, “Unless you’re afraid you’ll be the dud this time.”

“You’re on.” Barclay growls, “but don’t get your hopes up.”

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

Either his pillow sprouted fur overnight, or Joseph isn’t where he should be.

He cracks his eyes open, squinting in the muted, grey light sneaking in under the curtains. The room, while tidy, isn’t his, and the clock on the wall tells him he’s starting his Saturday out with oversleeping.

Barclay is sound asleep beside him, his broad, hairy chest rising and falling soothingly. A cursory peek under the blankets shows he’s a naked as Joseph is. As the agent slips from the bed and hunts down his clothes, he starts to remember why.

They’d done something in the club bathroom, a blow-job, that’s right, and the instant Barclay dragged him into his apartment Joseph shoved him onto the bed, yanked his pants off, and returned the favor. He remembers, as he surrenders to going commando rather than wear his pre-cum stained boxer briefs, wanting to sleep with his head on Barclay’s stomach, cum still on his lips, but the cook made a very convincing argument to come up and kiss him instead.

His pants are back on when his phone lights up from it’s spot on the floor.

Alert: Snowstorm predicted to last until 5 pm Sunday. Travel limited, recommended for emergencies only. At least five feet of snow predicted.

“Shit” he whispers, pushing the curtain aside to discover a world of smooth, white roof tops and impassable streets.

Jinglejingle

He spins, startled, as what he thought was a black pillow shakes out it’s ears and rises from a cushion at the foot of the bed. It’s the single most absurd dog he’s ever seen, like someone smushed a corgi and a Rottweiler together. It blinks at him, cocks it’s head, and then shifts its attention to the bed.

“Please don’t jump.” Maybe he can still sneak out on foot, or find somewhere else to wait out the storm.

The dog launches it’s tubular body onto Barclay, who “oofs” and is laughing before he even opens his eyes.

“Hey boy, yeah, I know, I know, didn’t let you in until way after bedtime.” The cooks deep voice is scratchy with sleep. The dog wiggles and digs at the blankets on his chest as he turns his head, smiling Joseph’s way, “morning babe.”

“Good morning.” Throwing himself out the window would result in hypothermia. Also a broken ankle. So no luck there.

Barclay notices his jeans, “Oh, uh, if you need to go that’s cool. I, uh” he yawns “I have a policy of making breakfast after a hook-up, but if you’re in a hurry I can just get you some coffee for the road. C’mon Sass, let me up.”

“I, um, I can stay. I don’t have much choice.”

“What do you--oh fuck, I knew we were getting snow this weekend but no one said anything about a fucking blizzard. Guess you’re crashing here for the weekend.”

“I guess so.”

Barclay’s smile shrinks, “Is that a shitty outcome?”

“No! Or, um, I just” Joseph sits on the bed, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to impose. I was trying to get out of here so I wouldn’t make things awkward since I, um, I don’t do this much.”

“Gotta say that was kinda obvious.” It’s a gentle tease, Barclay’s fingers flipping through his phone, “huh, when did I take a video last night?”

“I think you--oh, oh my lord.” Joseph claps his hands over his mouth, blushing at the memory.

“What, did I talk you into karaoke or somethi--holy fuck.” Barclay scoots to where Joseph is frozen, holding the screen where they can both see it. The same face growing excited beside him is looking up at the camera, lips wrapped around Joseph’s cock as a voice urges him on.

“You like that, big guy?”

Barclay nods, pulls off so he can drag his tongue up the shaft with a grin. Then he swallows it almost to the base, Joseph’s hand flying past the lens to stifle a moan.

“That’s it, show me how much you like it, s-so the next time you feel like sending me a snarky text you can watch this and remember just how much fucking fun you had sucking my dickAH.” A laugh as Barclay sits back on his heels, pulling off the condom.

“C’mon blue eyes, bet, bet you’re gonna look great when you cum, fuck, think I ruined these pants just watching you. Heh, you like that, like getting me hard and wet on the fucking bathroom floor.”

“Usually it’s, it’s the other waAAaay aroundohfuck, shit.” Cum spatters across Barclay’s face. The cook licks his lips, still smiling, as the camera sinks to his level, Joseph giggling behind it, “here, let, let me clean you up.”

“Don’t want everyone else to see your cum all over me?"

“Nngn. I, I mean no, not in actuality.” Joseph’s hand returns to the frame, gently cleaning Barclay’s cheek with toilet paper.

The video ends there. Joseph is red from his hips to his cheeks, but not so embarrassed that he misses Barclay rubbing his thighs together. Then the cook meets his eyes and sets the phone aside.

“I can delete it. Know your face isn’t in it but if you’re more comfortable with it gone, it’s gone.”

The offer alone calms him, “No, no it’s okay. Thank you for offering. I, um, since I’ll be here awhile, can I use your shower?”

“Sure, it’s just through there.” He tips his head at the door in the left wall, grabbing a robe from the door and heading into the chilly apartment, Sass clickclick-ing on the hardwood after him.

As always, the world is more manageable when he’s clean. A pair of sweatpants and a thick, blue sweater are waiting for him on the bed, and coffee-swirled air coaxes him into the kitchen. It’s small but immaculately organized, Barclay moving from stove to cabinet to fridge and back again in an intimate dance.

“Coffee on the left is yours. I’m doing pancetta in the omelettes; most of my friends are vegetarian so I never get a chance to bust it out.”

“That sounds delicious.” He picks up the mug, sighs as warms his chest, “mmm, you have real cream somewhere in this house.”

“Yep. Remember you said you liked the real stuff when you could get it. I drink mine black, but really these beans demand cream instead of milk; sets of the chocolate notes really nice.”

“I can never taste those. Same thing with wine. But I guess that’s why you’re the professional and I’m not.”

“That’s more a happy coincidence. I got into this to help with the bills when I was in high school. I wasn’t, like, combining flavors and deciding to be a cook like in Ratatouille or something.”

“That’s a Pixar movie, right?”

“Only the best one ever made. Have you really not seen it?

“I, um, I only watch kids movies if I’m babysitting my niece. Which doesn’t happen as often as I’d like.”

“Well, now I know what we’re doing after breakfast. Ah ah, Sass, not for you.” He shoos the dog from where it’s valiantly trying to double in length to reach the table.

“Is his name short for something?”

“Sasquatch.”

“Awwww.” Joseph crouches down to scritch behind one, floppy ear.

“His whole litter was named for cryptids; Nessie, Champ, Yeti, stuff like that.”

“‘Bray’ feels like an obvious one.” He smiles, then remembers not everyone is a nerdy UP agent, “sorry, never mind.”

“Uh uh special agent, I’ve been waiting to ask you about this. You don’t get to say you’re ‘like Fox Mulder’ and then not share more.” Barclay pulls out his chair, kisses his head when he sits down. He then listens to Joseph expound on canine cryptids of the midwest for fifteen minutes, fascinated the entire time.

“Y’know, I had a line cook who swore he’d been abducted by aliens.”

“What was his proof?”

By the time their plates are clean, Joseph has generated three alternative explanations and Barclay is staring at him with an expression straight from a rom-com. The cook sets up the movie while Joseph does the dishes, then pulls him under a mound of blankets.

“The heat in this place is shit, but I promise I’ll keep you warm.”

He enjoys the movie plenty, the weight of Barclay’s arm over his shoulder and, eventually, his waist, even more. They watch Ramen Girl for the hell of it, spooning on the couch while the snow makes dunes out of the sidewalk.

When the second movie is done, Joseph rolls so he’s facing the cook, “What should we do now?”

“Could keep watching movies, or bake something. I’ve got some cards and a few games in the closet. Or we could just cuddle and talk. I’m good with whatever.”

“...Could I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You’ve been so sweet all day. Why were you such an ass about our first date?”

Barclay shifts, discomfort entering his eyes, “I was having a shitty week and was hoping the date would make me feel better. I ended up so anxious after it, felt like you wanted to be somewhere else, that I kinda took my frustration out by being a dick. I’m sorry. I, um, I wasn’t even on that many dates between now and then; I’d just text you what I’d wished had happened to fuck with you.”

“I should’ve known it; no one has that many good dates in a row.”

“Sorry.”

Joseph cups his cheek, “And I’m sorry for making you feel that way the first time. I had my reasons but, well, you still had a bad time because I was flustered and couldn’t get my mind off work.”

“Think you’ve more than made up for it.”

“Can I try again anyway?” Joseph kisses him, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his sweats.

Barclay’s lips curve up, “Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”

Once Barclay is comfortably naked atop the blankets (space heater pointed at the bed all the while), Joseph asks if he has any condoms.

“Yeah, bathroom cabinet. But I’m not, uh, I don’t-”

“It’s not for penetration. You said last night that was a no for you.” In the reflection of the bathroom mirror, he watches him relax. If he ever finds out someone saw the tension in those muscles, heard the worry in that sweet, deep voice and pushed anyway, he’s going to set them on fire with his mind.

Barclay nestles his cheek on his pillow as Joseph fishes his swiss army knife from his jacket, puts his ass in the air and wiggles it expectantly as Joseph unrolls the cut latex.

“Is this okay?”

“Uh huh, I really love it when guys do this but, uh, it doesn’t happen much. The hair turns a lot of them off.”

“Cowards.” Joseph holds the makeshift dam in place. Barclay’s chuckle morphs into a moan as he presses his face between his asscheeks, tongue making an obscene sound against the latex. There’s a warmth to this angle that he loves, a tender sort of filthiness to the way Barclay pushes his ass back with little gasps of his name.

He doesn’t get to practice his technique often, but that makes it all the more pleasurable to re-acquaint himself with it now, find the ways of pressing and curving his tongue that make Barclay’s ass tense under his hands.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, I take it all back, every rude text, you’re gonna drive every date you get crazy, gonna make them wonder how they got so lucky to get someone so goddamn wild.”

“I don’t think I will. I think” Joseph kisses the small of his back, “I think it’s you. You bring it out in me, you make me want to do all the things I’d be ashamed to ask for the rest of the time.”

Barclay whimpers happily.

“I’m serious. There’s something about you, I feel like I can want what I want without shame.” He nips his right cheek once, gently, “or maybe it’s just that what I really want is you and everything else finds into line because of it.”

“Fuuuck, baby, please.” Barclays weight shifts as Joseph eats him out ever more messily, “wanna, wanna make you feel good.” He’s rubbing his dick, Joseph can tell by the sound.

“May I?”

“Uhhuh, fuck, c’mere” Barclay grabs him as soon as they’re both sitting up, “was gonna pound you into next week but I dont wanna waste time with the harness right now.”

“Then we can do that tomorrowAH, ohlord” his hand stutters on it’s way to Barclay’s cock as calloused fingers circle is dick, “god there is not a part of you that disappoints, you’re just a wet dream from top to bottom.”

“Aw, babe.” Barclay kisses his shoulder, groaning as Joseph thumbs his dick, “fuck, speaking of, you gonna tell me what you meant in the stall last night? About things being ‘the other way around.”

Now it’s his turn to hide his face, “Promise you won’t think I’m dirty?”

“Babe, your mouth was on my ass a minute ago. You’re dirty and I fucking love it.”

“I, um, I, when I travel for missions I look for, for places that have glory holes.”

“Oh fuck” Barclay ruts against his palm, “that’s a fucking amazing image blue eyes. You on your knees, trying to keep that fucking suit clean while a fucking parade of guys shove their dicks down your throat.”

“I, it’s an easy way for me to get off, I can edge myself until I’m done and then cum without anyone being the wise but, god, half the time I’d think about this, want this.” He speeds up his strokes, pumps his cock into Barclay’s fist.

“What, a hairy trans guy?” Barclay bumps their noses together.

“This” his free hand glides along Barclays arm where it’s holding him, “s-someone to see me, hold onto me, fuck the whole of me and not just the acceptable, easy part. But” he meets brown eyes, teases slick skin, “I, the other times I fucked someone like this it, it was like I was still in that fucking stall. Last night, today, I’m here, I want to be and I am.”

“Baby.” The word comes in a sweet rumble of understanding just as Joseph cums with a gasp. He holds on for dear life as Barclay joins their hands and guides his fingers along his dick, forces his mind to memorize the movements and shapes for next time.

Barclay cums with a groan, flinging his hands up to cup Joseph's head and kiss him. There’s cum on his arm, on Joseph’s fingers and now in his hair and he cannot bring himself to give a shit. Gradually the kisses trail to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone, and then Barclay is nestling his head under his chin.

“I, um, I think it might have been a good thing. That first date. I can be overly focused on work, can forget to turn off the special agent questioning mode and just talk like a person. I’m glad you saw those parts of me and, um, and decided to give me another chance.”

“Hey, you saw that I could be kinda sensitive and stubborn when I think someone did something wrong and you still saved my ass from being humiliated on the internet.” Barclay sighs as Joseph pets his hair.

“Do you, um, want to keep getting to know each other? Good parts and bad?”

Barclay looks up at him. Sees him.

“Yeah, blue eyes, I do.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!! I was wondering if you knew of any really long fics (like 25k or more) that are only one chapter, I travel a lot sometimes and some places don't really have good enough internet for multi chapter fics. So yeah, any really long one chapter fics about John and Sherlock would be appreciated. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

LOL OKAY FUNNY STORY. I almost replied to this with “oof I’ll have to read EVERYTHING so I’m sorry.... and then... I remembered.......

I put chapter counts on everything 🙃😐 

I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. 🖍 

Anyway, so yes, I can definitely rec you some fics! BUT I should also offer you two suggestions you can totally do to read ANY fic!

On Ao3, you can click on the “Entire Work” button to load ALL chapters of a fic (it’s the very first button along the top) and in turn you can then just read it all there! 

And the very last button along the top, you can Download copies of the fic to your phone or computer with eBook file types (AZw3 for Kindle, ePub for iPhone’s Books app, and MOBI is for other mobile devices and e-readers), the HTML if you want to read it as-is in a web-browser, or the PDF format which is a universal file format that is supported by everything, even web browsers, so it’s a good one to download if you don’t know what format you need :) If you read on an eReader, though, I can’t recommend enough just downloading the format for your device. You get to keep a copy of the fic AND the eReader keeps it nicely formatted. It’s a BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL feature that Ao3 gave us, because I like downloading all my fics and read them later in iBooks. Once you start that, Nonny, you can’t do it any other way. AND at the VERY END of the fics, it links BACK to the original post so you can bookmark, kudos, and comment on it!! <3

So yeah, two options you can do to solve your poopy internet and still read long fics hee hee! <3

ANYWAY EXCUSE FOR A NEW LIST LOL. 

ALSO, side note, check out @silentauroriamthereal; a large chunk of her fics are both long AND one chapter, so it’s a good place to go and she’s a brilliant author so I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! <3 Plus a lot of her fics are on this list, so I am sorry hahah.

AND I wanted to make the list a bit longer than I had, so I picked fics over 20K, if that’s alright :) As always, if you wrote a 20k+ single chapter fic, let us know!

SINGLE CHAPTER FICS OVER 20K WORDS

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 31,672 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock, First Person POV Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism || John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

[parkjess]

Hey!!! Hope your doing well and having a good time

Are you taking requests??if you're can I request for an optional bias-where reader is working late and he comes to pic them and they take a romantic walk in the middle of night with sweets

It's okay if you're not taking any requests 😅

Have a great time ahead and I love your work 💖💖💖

I am! Thank you for requesting🥰

TYSM for the support🥺❤️

Midnight sky/ Optional Bias

Genre: Pure fluff

“Oof...” you sigh, letting your head fall on the table infront of you as you sit down, almost loosing control of your own body that falls comfortably on the chair. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your jacket, you spend few seconds to wonder whether to answer or not, and eventually you do when you see who’s calling.

-“Baby, are you still at work?” Your boyfriend’s voice speaks up, comforting every worry you had in mind and makes it fade away in seconds. “Yeah...” you sigh heavily this time, shutting your eyes clothes, the entire work day goes through your mind for 3 seconds and a single tear leaves your eye. -“What is it?” He asks.

“I missed your voice.” You softly say, almost whispering, and take a deep breath. -“My baby... Are you tired?” His voice softens as well, You can hear the wind blowing as a background noise. he must be outside now, you think.

“Just a bit exhausted, where are you?” You ask as a reply. The wind has stopped and a car’s door sounds to be shut closed. -“I’m coming to pick you up.” He says, and does what seems to put his phone on the phone holder in his car. “I can’t wait to see you.” You reply shortly, not even bothering to start an argue with him about coming to pick you up, since you know he wouldn’t listen to you anyways.

-“Me too baby,” the way he calls you by this pet name everytime, which is his favorite, makes your heart flinch, even though you’re already used to him and it, that feeling never stops.

-“I’ll see you soon,” he says and hangs up. You can’t help but smile at the echo of his voice that stayed in your head for a while after he hung up.

Your mananger passes by the place your sitting at, and you stop him to ask if you can leave. “Is your boyfriend not coming today?” He suddenly asks, noticing how exhausted you look, your manager already got used to him picking you up on Thursdays. -“He is.” A voice behind him speaks up, too familiar to your ears, too warm to your heart. A smile from ear to ear is stretching on your face, automatically, without you even feel your face muscles.

Your manager steps aside and you see your boyfriend standing there, leaning on the doorframe, smiling at you. “I guess you’re leaving now. You worked hard today.” The older man says and leaves. Once he’s no longer seen in your sight, your loved one comes closer and you stand up to meet him eye to eye.

-“I missed you so much.” Your voice is muffled into his hoodie, hugging his waist as if you didn’t see him for years.

“I have something for you...” he looks deeply in your eyes, holding you by the waist with one hand and caressing your face with the other, you almost forget where you are and all you can see is his face. -“What is it?” You pull him closer, feeling his hot breathing brushing softly against your face, it’s that feeling again, home.

“Let’s get out of here first, I guess you can’t see this place after working so many hours.” He giggles at the end of his sentence, placing the slightest peck on your forehead, gently rubbing your neck and then grabs your hand. -“I honestly don’t mind staying anywhere as long as I’m with you.” You say and could feel the race of your heart after saying those words, you didn’t plan them, your feelings just came out, as if he didn’t know that and felt the same already.

“So cheesy this early?” He lets out the most beautiful sound, his laugh. “Come on.” He leads you outside, holding your hand the whole time.

-“What you got there for me?” You ask, peeking over your shoulder towards the backseat as he distracts your attention. “Not yet, hun.” He replies, stops you from looking properly into what seems to be a basket.

He suddenly pulls over in an unfamiliar place. “I thought were going home.” You say, surprised. -“It’s our release-stress day of week, remember?” He says and gets out of the car, taking that thing he called ‘a surprise’ and you follow. -“Don’t you just love the midnight sky?” He takes you by the hand, starting to walk on that road with flowers all around it.

It’s his thing, making your days better.

-“I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea giving you some sugar on weekend, after you worked intensively...” both of you step slowly on the empty road, it’s already late so the place wasn’t crowded. “Thanks baby, although you’re the only sweet thing I need after a workday.” Your’e being cheesy again and he likes it, yet gets cringed.

-“Ay... why are you being so cheesy today?” He sighs, you could notice his slight smirk when he looks up at the dark, full of stars skies.

“How can I not? Then stop being sweet!” You playfully yell at him. His laughter fills the cool air with warmth and joy to you as he reaches out his arm to the basket full with your favorite sweets and snacks, opening the little chocolate wrap.

-“Open your mouth.” He says, smiling at you immediately obeying. He shoves the candy in between your teeth slightly, which makes both of you smile and stare at each other. -“How is it?” He asks as you keep chewing on the sweet chocolate. “You decide.” You reply and pull him by the neck for a chaste kiss, even sweeter than what’s in your mouth.

“So... how was it?” You pull away and ask along with a smirk. -“Not sweet enough, try again.” He sarcastically replies, making butterflies appear in your stomach and pulls you for a deeper, much sweeter kiss, under the romantic midnight sky. -“I love it, but I love you more.” He softly says, caressing your cheek. “Look who’s being cheesy.” You giggle. “I love you too.” The cool air hits your face as he takes your hand again and you continue your late night walk, full of laughter, chocolate and butterflies.

[justcourttee]

So you are one of my favorite writers for the Maribat Fandom and this is litterally like just on the edge getting ready to dive into barely there territory. . . but imagine Chloe "Queen B" Bourgeois deciding that Roy Harper is her future husband because he is the only one her age with the potential to even hyphenate Queen. She /will/ get her title in her civilian life if she has to drag Roy to the courthouse herself. Cue shenanigans and chaos friends to lovers lol

You’re so sweet and I hope I did your prompt justice. I love the Roy X Chloe energy and this is just something I could picture cannon Chloe trying. I hope you enjoy! @risaxtitan

The Future Mrs. Queen

The day Oliver Queen announced to the world in that fated press conference that he was adopting Roy Harper, the younger boy had no idea how much his life was about to change.

He was still floating on Cloud 9 as he stepped off of the stage and into the crowd where his friends awaited him.

“Dude, congrats! It’s like all official now!” Adrien clapped him on the back, causing him to stumble forward a little.

“It still feels unreal.”

“Tt, it’s not like your his blood son, but I suppose this will be a good opportunity for you.”

Roy cocked his head to the side as he tried to debate if Damian was congratulating him or not. A small smack echoed following an ‘oof’ as Marinette’s bright smile entered his view.

“I’m so happy for you Roy! Conner, Jon, and Wally wanted to come with us, but you know how it goes. Always a mission somewhere.”

Roy shook his head, the smile still plastered across his face.

“It’s fine Mari, it’s not like today was the real thing. This was just a press conference. They were there when we officially signed the papers and that’s what matters in my book.”

“So, like, is your last name officially Queen now?”

Roy’s attention snapped to his left where a familiar blonde stepped out from behind Adrien. She fiddled with the ends of her curled hair, her mischievous blue eyes locked onto his. Certainly if a beautiful girl like her had told him her name, he wouldn’t have forgotten it.

“I suppose so. It’s officially Roy William Harper-Queen.”

Her smile was blinding as he nervously reached back to rub the back of his very warm neck.

“Oh Gods, we are so dense! I’m sorry Roy! This is my friend Chloe Bourgeois! Adrien was supposed to introduce you two earlier, but we all got separated in the crowd. She’s a big fan of Oliver Queen, so when she heard my dear friend was getting adopted by him-”

“I just had to come.” She stepped in front of Marinette, reaching forward to grab his hand. “Did you know that I tried to legally change my name to Queen? But my mother wouldn’t let me! She’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Something about it wouldn’t be good for my modeling career or whatever. But now, you can help me with that! Can’t be bad if it’s my husband’s last name.”

Roy stumbled out of her grasps, his entire face matching the red on his head.

“Hu-husband? Girl, we just met. You can’t go around saying things like that!”

Chloe waved off his embarrassment as her blinding smile pulled into a mischievous smirk.

“Like it or not Roy Harper-Queen, you will be my husband, even if I have to drag you to the courthouse myself!”

“Yeah right blondie.” He couldn’t help the stutter in his voice as he hid behind Damian’s chuckling figure.

There was no denying how attractive she was, but he would be damned if he let a pretty blonde step in and seal his fate.

“Maybe not today, but you’re going to love me Roy Harper-Queen, just you wait.”

The flip of her hair felt like a slap across his face as he watched her retreating figure dragging Marinette with her.

“So like, Can I be your best man? I know that you’ve known the other’s longer and all, but like we are always hanging out together! That has to count for something.”

Adrien’s wide eyes and pout earned a slight chuckle from the redhead as his eyes trailed back to where his friends stood.

“Sure Agreste, I’m sure everyone won’t mind one bit. You might have to fight Tim-”

“Tt, is that supposed to be a threat?”

Adrien and Roy shared a look before bursting into laughter. Roy slung his arms around the two boys as they headed off into the crowd. He wouldn’t see Chloe for another couple of weeks, but that didn’t stop the blonde from monopolizing his every thought.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“C’mon Arsenal, you really going to let your ass get beat by a little girl?”

Roy sneered as he pushed himself off the matt for the third time that day.

When Dick asked if he wanted to train with the Batclan, Roy was over the moon. Batman hardly let anyone into his special training spot without him being there. He didn’t think twice when he put the motorcycle in park outside of Wayne Manor. He already knew what to expect, Dick’s flexibility, Stephanie’s strategy, Damian’s rage. What he wasn’t expecting was to see a certain blonde and his two friends.

“She’s not beating my ass Stephanie, I just don’t want to hurt her.”

Dick had a hard time holding back his laugh as he leaned on Marinette for support. A hand shot into his line of view as he accepted Chloe’s helping pull him the rest of the way to his feet.

“C’mon mon chéri, your face is pretty too, but it’s not going to make me pull my punches. Give it to me, cherry.” She sent a wink in his direction as she set up for another spar.

If you asked Roy later, the red in his cheeks was from the anger at being called a cherry, but anyone could see the blush betraying him.

Chloe darted forward, dodging his first swing before smacking his butt.

“HEY!”

Roy pushed himself out of her reach as Stephanie and her shared a fist bump. There was no way he was getting out of training alive. He needed a way to finish this as quickly as possible.

“Blondie, what if we make a bet?”

Chloe raised her eyebrow at him, encouraging him to continue as she set herself back up in the circle.

“The next one of us to pin the other gets to pick the next hang out spot. I know it’s your turn in the rotation, so if you win, nobody will put a restriction on your choice.”

Her eyes glistened dangerously as a collective gasp sounded behind them.

“Hey, Roy, are you sure you want to do that? She-”

“Shut it Agreste. The boy has named his terms, no restrictions for me, or he gets to steal my turn. I’ll gladly accept Ginger.”

A sudden shift in the atmosphere was easily noticeable. Inadvertently, a shiver went down his back as every hair on his body stood in high alert. Her first strike was quick, he barely lifted his arms up in time to block it before she had hopped backwards, ready to hit again.

He thought he was the one holding back before, but clearly he was underestimating. Here she was, no longer holding back, toying with him as if he was nothing more than her prey. It was a bit terrifying.

Just as he extended his arm to try and make contact, Roy suddenly found himself on his back, her knee at his throat.

“God, when did you even knock my feet out?”

Her eyes were dancing with humor as she slowly stood, offering her hand to the boy below.

“We tried to warn you, my friend. Chloe doesn’t do competition, she destroys them.”

Adrien offered his hand as well and together the two blondes heaved him to his feet. Marnette shook her head solemnly as she and Dick mock prayed for Roy’s fate.

“So, no restrictions huh? That means overseas is fair game.” Chloe placed a hand gently on Roy’s shoulder sending a chill down his spine. “Guess tomorrow, we are going to Paris, France. Richard, is there a Zeta-Tube that does overseas?”

Dick finished his mock prayer before sending a nod in her direction.

“Perfect. Marinette, tell your little gloomy boyfriend and Timothy that we will be taking a day trip tomorrow, to the city of love.”

She sent a wink to Roy as she stepped out of the rink to grab her towel. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t ignore the racing in his heart all from one little comment.

“You are falling so hard, my friend!” Roy flinched as Dick threw his arm over his shoulder, sharing a fist bump with Adrien.

“I am not! I barely know her! We’re like acquaintances, at most she’s just a friend.”

Adrien stiffened as he bit back his laughter.

“Just you wait, after tomorrow, you’ll be questioning everything you know.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Roy was indeed questioning everything, like his sanity, as he stepped out of the tube and onto the tallest platform of the Eiffel Tower. Taking a quick step back from the edge, he found himself pressed against the cool metal.

“Isn’t it like illegal to be this high up?”

Chloe’s giggle filled the air as she smacked his arm lightly.

“Of course it is, for normal people that is. We can’t just have everyone using the Zeta tubes ginger.” Her fingers curled into his hair as she gave it a light ruffle.

“Tt, man up Harper. Even if you fall, it’s not like you’d hit the ground before someone here saved your sorry ass.”

A small ‘oof’ echoed from where Damian stood as Marinette stepped out of the tube.

“You didn’t even hear what I said!”

“True,” she shrugged, a smug smile pulling at her lips. “But I assume you were making fun of Roy.”

Damian huffed under his breath as he snaked his arm around her waist, drawing her into his side. Roy was never sure how someone like Damian could have landed a sweet angel like Marinette, but if it meant he had a constant guardian angel, he could care less.

“Where’s Adrikins?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to be a third wheel and neither does Tim.’”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the sparkle from the new information.

“Looks like it’s a double date!” She gripped Roy’s arm pulling him from his safety. “You wouldn’t leave me alone to those two annoying lovebirds would you Harper?”

Roy gulped nervously as his eyes darted between the couple and the blonde hanging off of him. With a sigh of defeat, he nodded, allowing her to pull him closer to the edge.

“I hope you’re ready Harper because if you survive today, there’s no way you won’t fall for me.”

Without warning, Chloe used all her strength to push him off the platform. The scream caught in his throat as the wind rushed past him. Some first date! Here she was trying to kill him within the first five minutes!

A flash of yellow flew past him, catching his attention briefly before an arm yanked him out of midair. This time, the scream managed to slip out, but instead of fear, he felt instant relief as he flew through the air pinned to Queen Bee’s side.

“There was an easier way of doing this Chloe!” He tried to shout over the wind but it felt useless. The only indication that she might have heard his pleas came from the sideways smile she flashed him as the came to a halt in an alleyway.

As his feet touched to ground, his legs instantly gave out. On his hands and knees, Roy reassured himself that this was safe, in solid ground. Moments later, a flash of pink blinded him as Marinette and Damian landed in front of him.

“What’s wrong Harper? You look a little green. I thought that was Oliver’s color.”

Roy’s middle finger only seemed to fuel the egotistical smirk Damian bestowed on him.

“If that was too much, I can’t wait to see how you handle the rest of the day.”

His eyes widened as he tried to imagine what could be worse than freefalling a few hundred feet from the highest structure in Paris. Little did he know, he would soon get his answer.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bourgeois.” He tried to keep his voice steady as he offered his hand to her, but the condescending stare made him want to crumble.

“What do you expect me to do? Shake your hand? Honey, you may have been adopted into money, but you are not money. I do not touch any person that is worth less than I am.”

She turned her back briskly as Roy slowly dropped his hand, unsure of whether to be insulted or not.

“Mom, Roy is my friend, can’t you be nice?”

Her mother’s cold glare rested on Chloe. Roy had no idea how she managed to stand her ground. He wanted to crumble for her.

“You are lucky I let you into my workshop after you have missed the past three fittings. When I said you could move to America with the Marianne kid, I expected you to still make time for the business. Should I begin looking for your replacement?”

The tension between the two of them was deadly. Roy wanted to step in, tell her mother to back off, that Chloe was a hero who didn’t always have time for fashion, but somehow, he figured it would only make it worse.

“No mother, I am here now am I not? Let us work quickly so that I can return home.”

Her tone was icy as she stepped forward, holding out her arms for her mother to remeasure. Roy shifted from foot to foot as he held back his tongue. Her mother commented on her weight gain, complained that she was going to begin to fat to be her model anymore. She commented on her studies, or lack of, and on her being a class d hero compared to Superman.

It was to quietest he had ever seen Chloe Bourgeois.

“If that will be all mother, Roy and I have to meet up with Damian and Marinette.”

Her mother waved her off. Not a single love you, not even a real goodbye. Roy was sure his face matched his hair by the time they had set foot back into the streets.

“So, Mari’s parent's house isn’t too far from here. Wanna swing over?”

It was as if a switch flipped. Back was the flirty social butterfly that he had gotten to know over the past couple of weeks.

“Chloe.”

“C’mon carrot top, swinging really isn’t a bad way to transport. It’s quick and effective.”

“Chloe.”

“Don’t be a chicke-”

“Chloe.”

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he knew what she was trying to do.

“Chloe, why do you let her treat you like that?”

Her lips were pressed into a tight line as she turned, taking a step away from the building.

“Chloe, you don’t have to pretend that it didn’t happen. I’m not going to tell anyone, it’s just, the Chloe I saw in there is nothing like the one I’ve come to know.”

“Well, maybe all you know is a lie.”

Her voice was quiet as she took off at a brisk pace down the street. It took Roy a second to process before he took off after her. Gently, he pulled her arm until she came to a stop once more.

“Then let me get to know the real Chloe. After all, I can’t marry someone I don’t know!”

She laughed half-heartedly at his joke, her smile weak.

“She isn’t very good with her emotions and neither am I. I know that she cares, hell, she wouldn’t let me explore this hero side of me if she didn’t think I had potential. But she always puts business first. I never wanted to go into business with her because she can’t separate family and employees. But I need the money. Daddy won’t let me touch my trust fund until I am secure on my own.”

Roy nodded, a number of things falling into place.

“Why don’t you work for Oliver or Bruce like the rest of us?”

Chloe shrugged, her fingers absentmindedly reaching for his.

“They have offered before, but I really feel like the way to her heart is through the family business. I know she wants to leave it to me one day and if I abandon it now, she might reconsider, and honestly, that would hurt her more than me. She’ll never say it to my face, but it would mean the world to me if I could be her legacy.”

A moment of silence passed, and then two as Roy admired the determination that crossed her face. Somehow, it made her more beautiful than she already was. He hadn’t even noticed how close they had gotten until a soft cough snapped him back to reality.

“Well, we only left you for like two hours. Is this a new development?”

Marinette and Damian shared a smirk as Chloe dropped his hand as if it was burning her. She tried to pull up her scarf, but it was too late. The red on her cheeks were burning, matching his he was sure.

“I don’t know what you are referring to Dupain-Cheng. Let’s head back to the tower. A certain blonde must feel my wrath.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Roy laid in bed that night, his thoughts kept wandering back to that moment.

She was so close, her lips were so close, so full, so red. They were drawing him in and if Marinette hadn’t stopped them..

“Ughh,” he buried his red face into his pillow, willing his pounding heart to still.

He rolled over to where his phone sat, the dark screen bugging him. Not a single text from her after they returned, not even one from Marinette or Damian teasing him. Reaching out, he lifted the phone toward his face.

Clicking on his photos, the most recent one lit up his entire screen, sending his heart into another fury. Chloe had borrowed his phone, leaving several adorable selfies that he only found a couple hours later.

Not that he wanted to admit it to anyone, but maybe he could admit to himself that just maybe, he was already head over heels for Chloe Bourgeois.

Just as he moved to place it back onto his charger, a text message pinged.

‘Still awake carrot top?’

Roy couldn’t help the smile that tore across his face.

‘Depends. Whose asking blondie?’

‘You’re ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Now open your window, my arm is getting tired.’

Instantly, Roy shot up as he opened his window. Looking around, he couldn’t find her. He was ready to close it when his instinct told him to look up. Sure enough, Queen Bee sat dangling, motioning for him to move out her way.

With one great heave, Chloe swung into his room, dropping her transformation before her feet even touched the ground.

“Miss me that much?”

The sound of his own voice was foreign as his wide smile was certain to leave his cheeks sore in the morning.

“Oh don’t get full of yourself Harper. I just wanted to thank you for today.”

“Mhmm, this seems mighty personal for a thank you.” He took a step forward, his stomach flipping multiple times.

“I may have also wanted to see you. After all, no text, no call. How is a girl supposed to feel after you almost kiss her?”

She stepped forward closing the gap between them, the smirk on her face as graceful as ever.

“I could say the same thing about you. Running off to another man after spending a day in the city of love with me?”

Hestitanly, he raised his hand to cup her cheek, basking in the feeling of how soft her skin felt against his palm.

“Harper, I want to be to future Mrs.Queen, so what do you say? The courthouse is still open in Paris, we can go right now.”

Roy couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. Gently, he stroked the side of her cheek, admiring her every feature. Leaning forward, he heard her breath hitch in her throat right as their lips were a mere inch apart.

“How about we start with a first date? A real date?”

Chloe’s warm breath tickled his lips as his pounding heart awaited her answer.

“I suppose Mrs. Queen will have to wait, I’ll pick you up, tomorrow Harper. Be ready.”

Just as quickly as he leaned in, she lept back, already calling her transformation. Racing to the window, she looked over her shoulder, blowing him a kiss before slinging away. Hesitantly, he approached the window, watching her retreating figure, his heart still racing a million miles a minute.

It started off a soft chuckle, but it soon grew. With a grand smile, Roy returned to his bed, his thoughts all centered around one blonde. Marriage was sounding less and less like the scary thought he had when he first met her. He wasn’t sure the exact moment that it sounded so good, but he didn’t care.

After all, Chloe Harper-Queen had a nice ring to it.

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[thatabitcryptic]

How do you think fidds and fords relationship developed over the years? Like from college to marriage(May and Fidds) to portal partners to enemys to lovers etc. I have my own headcanons but I want to know what you think!

O o o o o o o ok I am a sap so uhh here we go

So during college I don’t really think they had an established romantic relationship,, I personally like to think it started out with ford disliking fidds with. A. Passion.

He’s stuck in the worst University, in the worst dormitory, with the worst roommate.

Fiddleford played banjo almost every night which distracted him from his study. He was loud and rowdy, trying to make conversation when ford was clearly busy and not interested. He was just a southern hick who didn’t take lessons seriously and in Ford’s opinion was wasting his time here.

Until... (please forgive me idk how American schooling works let alone college lmao) end of term exams (I feel like their called finals?? I haven’t a clue tbh) ford starts to push himself harder and harder in class because he can’t fail he can’t he has to prove he’s not just some freak no one wants but he can’t do it he can’t focus it’s all too much he’s going to fail. Everything’s all wrong. He’s missing Stan something.

Fidds sees him struggling to study. Ford’s restless in his chair, grumbling to himself, wiping his tears eyes and he’s standing up and pacing. So fidds, the kind soul that he is, asks what’s wrong to only be met with ford leaning in close and yelling at him about how it’s all his fault he’s failing with his ‘hick southern quirks’ keeping him from concentrating. I hc fidds to be very sensitive about his accent and upbringing when he was younger so this is a heavy blow. Ford sees his face shift from confusion to anger to anxiety and he feels terrible. Uh yeah next he breaks down into fidds’ chest soaking his shirt and just repeating how sorry he is.

Fiddleford comforts him and immediately forgives him bc he is clearly remorseful and tbh fidds just be like that. After ford calms down he starts freaking out again because he’s got exams coming up and he’s not going to do very well. So fiddy boy offers to help but ford is doubtful... and fidds can see it on his face. So he goes and grabs a little knickknack he had been working on (idk what it is but it’s very impressive to ford)

Fidds help him pass all his classes with flying colours. This is when ford realises that he’s gay. However my guy has some internalised homophobia.

Anyway now that they are on better terms they start to hang out and goof around as college buddy’s. If ford gets stressed fidds notices and rests a hand on his shoulder. Ford is very not straight. Also it’s canon that they stay up late and talk about the future which is sweet so that happens.

Okay so college kinda goes like that nothing explicit but lots of pining (hehe) from both sides - fidds is also a flustered mess but ford is blind to it bc there’s no way he would like me back but I’m not gay so it does matter ahaha (ford has lots of emotions)

So fidds’ marriage uhhhh I don’t really have anything positive to say here except for tate so idk

Emma-may. I don’t think she’s all too great considering she left fidds when he needed her most. Also I do think fidds was attracted too her at some point but I don’t think he was ever in love with her. He just got married and had Tate because that’s what you did back then, got married settled down and had kids.

(Oh to set it in the timeline this would be after college when ford was researching gravity falls alone - so the invitation to be the best man at the wedding was heart breaking for him bc he had no clue who this Emma-may was and he felt more alone than he ever had since Stan was kicked out.)

Next portal era!!

Ford doesn’t want to drag fidds away from his family but he needs his help. Ruh roh his feelings resurface and just a heck of a lot of pining.

Fidds and may are going through a rough patch (uhhhh she’s cheating oof) so he is super excited to see ford, to sort of get away for a bit - I like to think they filed for a divorce right before Ford’s call.

Again ford and fidds’ relationship doesn’t become offical but they are both yearning SO MUCH. Oh what Fidds is designing the bunker? oh what he can only fit one bed down there?? Welp Ford’s fine with that bc he’s not gay,, it’s not gay to blush when you homie puts his head on your hair. (Lots of ford waking up to being hugged and he’s fine with that bc ...they’re just friends)

Also fidds is like sad bc his marriage failed so ford is awkwardly trying to cheer him up while also seeing an opening but he represses that’s bc it’s insensitive and he’s totally straight .

Canon blah blah blah

(also may stinks bc even tho you are getting divorced you don't give up on someone who’s going through a huge storm,, especially if he’s the father of your son but idk that’s just my thoughts)

Now 30yrs later. Ford and fidds get together and finally get married :D I have too many ideas about how this could happen so idk but is very fluffy and soft

Okay ahahaha those are my thoughts and I have more small details about them during the portal era I didn’t put in because this is already VERY l o n g.

[aliypop]

For All Time Always

Wordcount: 2,514

Warning: Some angst

A/N: I just wanted to write some Soft Astrid and Loki because I was inspired by @lokislittlesigyn headcanons for snuggly Loki, so I hope you enjoy. Because oof the fluff

"And that is why..." a loud crash coming from the palace hallways, "And that is why..." Odin tried to start back up again as his gaze motioned to the commotion of sound, "If you'll excuse me," he sighed as Amidala nodded along with the rest of the realm leaders, hoping that her children weren't the cause of the interruption. Several guards stood in front of the treasure room as Thor, Loki, Astrid, and Isabasia stood there scheming a way to get in. "We'll do get help." Thor smirked, lifting his brother as Loki pouted, "What exactly is get help?" Loki asked, his crown nearly being smooshed by his brothers. 

"Well, I'll say help my brothers dying and-" 

"And then Wha- AAAAAAH!" 

CLASH!

Astrid giggled as Isabasia smiled, "Oh, we have something similar, except I do this!" Isabasia turned herself invisible as she carried Astrid past the guards and threw her right next to Loki, who she landed in his lap, "Seems Astrid and Loki are close enough to kiss each other!" Thor teased as Isabasia joined in with him,

 "Disgusting..." both Astrid and Loki slid away from each other as their hands both brushed against each other, 

" I'd rather kiss a frog!" Astrid growled as Loki began to croak, jumping on her shoulder, his mucus-covered green skin grossing her out. Astrid flung him across the room as he transformed back, holding a blue cube in hand. 

BANG!

"That was very uncalled for!" he growled as spits of green fizzled at his fingertips, "Oh yeah! What will you do? Turn into a snake and stab me!" Astrid snapped, blasting him with her magic, both Thor and Isabasia no longer present to witness the situation before them. The two still fighting before they heard the clearing of throats, both Astrid and Loki found their parents disapproving glares at the mess they had made.

"You vile snake!" Astrid laughed, finding a note amongst her dresser. The two were now in their mid-teens, the age where romance was not to be taken ever so lightly. Sitting in the garden reading was Loki, who had stolen Astrid's mothers' amulet, the one to be awarded to her on the day of her official engagement to Thor, 

"You two tongued wet weasel..." Astrid smirked, sitting amongst the lavender plants that Frigga loved so dearly, "That's a new one. I'll have to write it down," he focused on his book as she walked over, taking a seat in his lap, causing him to gain color in is ivory tone. His eyes focused on her brown skin. And the curl of lips, the way her hair was unraveling from her self-made braids, he wanted nothing more than to make her his, and he'd do everything in his power to do so.

 "Loki..." 

"Loki..."

"Loki!"

"What?" 

"Is something on your mind." Astrid asked as she laid her head on his shoulder, basking in the Asgardian sun as the Fall was soon coming to the realm, "Whomever wins your heart shall be ever so lucky." he sighed as Astrid turned to face him, his alluring eyes gleaming, as he soon looked away blush creeping up to his cheeks as Astrid only hummed, 

"Why do you say?" Astrid asked as Loki scratched the back of his neck, "Well... uh... well... Because they will." he stammered. Astrid laughed, being that she had never seen Loki so lost for words, his hands wrapped around her waist stabilizing her so she wouldn't fall over. No longer concentrated on his book. His eyes were all focused on her, 

"You are worth more than any jewel ever."

"Is that why you stole my mother's amulet..." Astrid asked, searching through his pockets as he swatted at her hands playfully, "What if I didn't take it..." he smirked, flipping her over on her back, her dark curls kissing the grass flowers surrounding her. "Then what was the note on my dresser for," she questioned as Loki gulped, 

"To catch your attention..." he looked down, 

"Loki, you always have my attention." she wrapped his arm around her waist as she wiggled into his chest, taking in his scent, as he rolled over to get a better angle as to what Astrid was doing, 

"You oaf, you're going to squish me!" she groaned as Loki chuckled, her heart fluttering at the sound,

"What was that?" 

"I said get off..." 

"No... no, you called me an oaf. Which means you should apologize." he winked as Astrid averted her gaze,

 "I'm sorry-"

"As you mean it." he grinned.

"My humble prince of Asgard, Son of Odin, Rightful King of Asgard, I deeply apologize." she laughed as pushing him away the two rolling down a hill, Astrid landing on top of him, 

"Now tell me why this lack of me not having your attention." she asked, bringing the topic back, "You've been paying attention to Thor lately..." he sighed as Astrid placed her thumb on his cheek, "And smiling at him, and... As your best friend..." the hurt in both their eyes at the sound of that phrase,  Loki and Astrid were past best friends by the people of Asgard and Vanaheim, sure they slept in the same beds together since they were ten and had always made the other smile since they were eight, but always there for each other to talk, they were soulmates the very thing that Frigga told them about,

"I just don't want to be forgotten..." 

"Loki, how could I forget you. You're my best friend, my reason I love you."

"Astrid..."

"Hmm..." 

"Don't say things that make me want to kiss you..." he stared at her lips. As she pulled him by his crown, their lips meeting, the bliss as sweet as honey and as beautiful as any song.

"Be mine..." 

"I can't..." 

 The fall winds blew on Asgard as the stars shone, the village peppered with vending carts and lights. Thor was taste testing ale for the Harvest Festival, which brought most of the realms together.

 Taking a sip of mead from her goblet was Astrid, her eyes focusing on the decorations that the Vanir made the only thing reminding her of home, 

"Does your mother know you drink..." soft hands touching her waist, 

"No, she doesn't," Astrid giggled   lips to her ear, "What would your mother say if she found you so full..." Loki winked. Tilting her chin up, 

"She'd say absolutely nothing because you are not to tell her..." Astrid gave him a burst of laughter sweeter than all the honey of Asgard, just like her kisses.

 "Oh but, I might..." he leaned in closer to her, their foreheads touching,

 "Then I'll tell Odin you took me away from Thor..." she whispered, stealing a kiss from him.

"You cheeky Minx.." he laughed.

"Maybe I am." she giggled, stumbling a bit, not use to the high levels of alcoholic intake of the Aesir. 

"A small tip... though," Loki whispered, helping her stand

"What's that..." Astrid asked

"Gold isn't Thor's complementary color. It's red." he laughed as she smirked, "Perhaps, I wore this for you," draped in greens and golds stood Loki, who couldn't get enough of her, although they both knew that what they were doing was wrong. It felt right after all Thor was still allowed to drink, fight, flirt and be an acclaimed sex God by the talks of Fandral and Lady Sif, who told Astrid all of his stories to keep her company when her mother and father were fighting. So she figured why not have her fun too. 

Astrid stood on top of the table singing, all the while Thor looked at her almost in the glance of a disruptive child,

But the trees dance, and the waterfalls stop

when she sings, she sings Come home

When she sings, she sings Come home

Astrid hiccuped as she sang amongst the Asgardians, her mug of ale sloshing around as she later dropped it. "ANOTHER ...That is how you do it here..." she asked Loki as he nodded, "ANOTHER FOR EVERYONE!" she shouted as she threw her cup down, drunkenly kissing Loki as her sights saw Thor leave with Isabasia sister, who couldn't even say hello to her. 

Isabella smiled, her brown skin complimenting the crimson red dress that Ashton had made from the purest of silk farmed from Egypt, her hair down wearing the crown of her mother, and eyes looking away from the crowd, 

"You look beautiful, like ..."

"Like what..." 

"A flower that only blooms in the gardens that only the rivers know." Thor took her by the hand, twirling her into his arms much as he did when they were younger, but they were older now, sure not enough to rule, but enough to know that they were in love. Isabasia placed her hand on his cheek leaning in to kiss him, 

"Your mother must be worried. It is getting late..." Loki smiled, helping Astrid down, "I've got a better idea..." she smirked. Drunken giggles filled the halls of Asgard as royal guards walked by. Holding her shoes and sliding down the floors were Astrid and Loki. As giggles turned into erupt fits of laughter. A guard stopped in his tracks, causing  Loki to turn into Thor, picking up Astrid. Loki turned to the guard, 

"Who goes there."  he demanded, looking at "Thor" and his assumed mistress for the night.

"You see, my fiance... She had a lot to drink and is tired."

"Very tired.." She giggled, letting a yawn out.

"Of course, my lord, but why the throne room?"

"It was her request," he winked, kissing her neck as Astrid bit her lip. 

"Grant me this night before I return," Isabasia asked her voice in a needy tone, the two passing the throne room as the guards standing there rubbed his eyes, watching as they later went up the stairs. Leading to his chambers,

"Astrid .... You'll learn to love him, just as Frigga learned to love Odin..." Amidala smiled, placing her crown on her daughter's head, "And maybe you'll forget all about this foolish Loki..." she snarled at his name as she went to cover the ungodly bite marks on her neck, "And grow up for the better..." she mumbled under her breath, 

"Besides ... it's coronation day, which makes it  official for."

"My engagement to Thor the most miserable day of my life..." she said under her breath, her dress covered in the finest of jewels, of reds and yellows, placing the emerald earrings in her ear from Loki. She sighed, remembering how his touch felt on her skin, the way he treated her,

"I almost forgot one more thing..." 

"What's that..." Astrid asked as her mother took out her gold and red amulet necklace from its box, "Your grandmother gave it to me the day of my coronation engagement, and now I pass it to you."  she smiled, her heart content on Astrid making an even better name for their family,

almost everyone in the nine realms flooded the throne room of the palace. While Thor gloated and boasted down towards the Throne, Astrid kept her eyes on Loki, who had a look of disinterest on his face towards his brother, who was also treating Mjolnir as a party trick. Frigga, who stood next to Amidala, only laughed at her child's immaturity while Astrid was slowly shutting down her mind remembering what she and the prince of Asgard did the night before. She could still feel the lingering sense of his tongue and the pleasurable ache from his every thrust, but her heartfelt glee of every praise he had ever given her.  As Thor kneeled to his father, Loki gave a quick wink to Astrid, who blushed back. Odin stood up, cheers still, radiant, while the warriors 3 waved at Astrid. Who wanted to crawl in a ball and die. 

"Thor Odinson... my heir... my firstborn so long and trusted with the mighty hammer Mjolnir forged in the heart of a dying star," Odin said while Astrid looked up at Frigga, a tear in her eye. Loki wanted to do everything in his right to take her away, but he knew that after tonight she would no longer be his. 

"Do you swear to guard all nine realms?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to preserve the peace?" Odin looked over at Astrid, 

"I... Swear," she responded.

"Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and to pledge yourself only to the good of the realm?"

Thor glanced at Loki, "I swear!"

"Then on this day, I Odin All-Father proclaim you..." he paused almost as if he were sensing something, 

"Frost giants..." Odin growled as everyone evacuated the palace. Both Thor and Loki followed Odin as Sif, the warriors three, and Astrid drew their weapons fighting the frost giants. Amidala looked at her daughter in disgust. Fighting wasn't originally what a princess was supposed to do, but here she was fighting beside warriors and Loki instead of making sure her "beloved" was okay. 

After the events of an almost coronation, the royal dinner slowly sizzled down. There stood Thor, who was standing behind Astrids chair. 

"I know..." he glared at his soon-to-be queen, 

"You know what..." she asked, still eating, refusing to meet his gaze. 

"You've been cheating on me for my brother..." his tone cold as Astrid dropped her fork, 

"It's not what it-" Astrid tried to say. 

"You sneak into his chambers at night, the glances, how long has this been going on!" Thor asked as he flipped the table over. Astrid growled, "Just about as long as you've discovered yourself to be so mighty!" she stood up, her red gown flowing behind her, "You never acted as if you needed me... wine, fighting, and sleeping around with my sister have always been your main concern!" she walked away Thor grabbing her wrist,

 "I am your king..." he snarled. 

"You are but an immature quibbling titmouse... Who will never be king." she laughed, "And, you'll only get yourself killed if you go to Jotunheim..." she freed her wrist, charging off to change into her armor. Heimdall sighed, watching as Thor, Sif, Loki, and the warriors sat at the Bifrost bridge on their horses, as the sound of trotting came among them from afar was a Vanir woman in her mother's old armor. 

"Astrid..." Loki looked up at her.

"Loki..." she squeezed his hand, As he kissed it. The two sitting on the couch of their New York penthouse overlooking the city, boxes still packed as they sat cuddled up together, his arms around her waist, as her body pressed against his, the two watching I love Lucy, a collection borrowed by Wanda.  "Yes, darling..."  he asked, "Do you ever thank the Gods..." she hummed, wearing one of Loki's sweatshirts that said Low Key on it.

"All the time..." he kissed her head, "Especially for having you in my life." Astrid giggled, "Oh, Loki." 

"Let's try get help!

CRASH!

"I'm okay!" 

Both Astrid and Loki looked at each other as they sighed,  "NARFI LOKISON, VALI LOKIDOTTIR!" 

"Uh oh..."

[amane-by-together]

Blue Hour || Amane Yugi pt. 3/5

(Amane Yugi x Fem! Reader)

genre: romance, drama and a bit of fantasy

summary: amane and [name] stopped communicating after the pen pal project

“When we lost each other.”

The quarter felt like a shooting star, it was fast in a blink of an eye. As the late night calls stopped and so as the letters.

Amane laid down on his bed, staring at the messages that he and [name] exchanged. Something was weird, it's been a week since they chatted after the pen pal project was over.

Though, he doesn't want to assume that he has been ghosted, yet the situation is the same. Not being able to receive messages from the person Amane likes, it's definitely ghosting.

Amane stayed up all night, not because of star gazing, his honey amber eyes had lost their shine and looked like a zombie with eyebags forming under his eyes.

She disappeared like a ghost.

“You disappeared for an instant, like a faint ghost, you disappeared.”

Amane felt his eyes brimming with tears, he didn't get used to it, it's like being alone again. He never met [name], yet why was he crying for her?

‘This is not supposed to happen right? You're not supposed to fall for your pen pal Amane.’ the voice inside his very own head told him.

‘She's just a pen pal, Amane. Nothing special, you shouldn't cry about her.'

'It's all gone'

‘Don't disappear now, I'm searching for you’

‘It felt like the summer was winter without you.’

‘It's all gone, now. It's over.’

“Now I just missed you...” Amane choked back a sob. His heart was clenching making it difficult to breathe. It felt like he was having an anxiety attack, he wanted to make the feeling disappear.

Now that [name] was gone.

He wanted to disappear as well.

Amane hugged his knees hunched over while lying down. His phone was the only source of light inside the room since the moon isn't there when he needed.

Just like he needed [name].

But the thing is,

She nowhere.

She's gone.

Amane doesn't know what to do.

It's all gone.

“Whoah Yugi, you okay bud?” Yamabuki sat next to the young boy who was staring into space, his eyes were sore from crying and his eyebags are turning darker. “You look wasted man.”

“Yeah, I'm okay.” Amane smiled, even though he was hurting and grieving inside. To everyone it looked like it was the brightest smile, but in reality it was fake.

“No you're not, Amane-kun.” Yashiro interrupted, crossing her arms in front of Amane. She placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him reassuringly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Truth to be told, Amane does need someone to talk with. He's been bottling up all his tears and suffering because of [name]'s sudden disappearance. His smile faltered, casting down to his desk and nodded gravely. Yashiro grabbed his hand before dragging him out to class.

“I thought you liked [name]?!” Yamabuki yelled out.

Yashiro stopped as the two of them arrived on the rooftop. Amane's shoulders slumped a little bit. “So tell me what's going on?” she asked.

Amane was silent for a while, he felt his eyes watering. Yashiro wrapped an arm around his shoulder, telling him to calm down before he can tell her.

And so he did, starting from the day he learned that [name] was his pen pal, to the epiphany of falling for [name]. Yashiro listened, nodding on every word he says. “Maybe it's a sign that you two should meet?”

“Huh?” Amane rubbed his eyes using his hands. “What do you mean?”

“I've read this somewhere in books!” Yashiro tells Amane with a smile on her face. “I always see this kind of plot, and it is time to apply it to the two of you!”

“The two of you are some sort of soulmates!”

Amane squinted his eyes in disbelief at Yashiro, a typical someone who doesn't believes in soulmates and then they meet in some point for plot purposes. After Yashiro had elaborated the term soulmate, she bids goodbye on Amane because she promised Aoi that they will go on a "date" together.

Amane saw her figure slowly going away from him, but he didn't try to call her back or even yell that he used to like Yashiro. Besides, the young boy already had fallen for [name] and was foolish for trusting his intuition that he wouldn't.

He gave a one last glance at the sky before going back inside to his respective classroom.

“Come on Minamoto-kun, beat Tsukasa-senpai up!” Mitsuba encouraged Kou who was randomly pressing the buttons of his controller whilst his electric blue eyes remain glued on screen. Tsukasa, his opponent, was concentrating really hard to win the video game.

Amane was sitting on his swivel chair, reading [name]'s last letter before the project's end. He was reading it for like...fifteen times already.

“Senpai, you've been staring at that letter for a while...” Kou worriedly pointed out. Tsukasa told him to leave him for a while since he was on a state of singularity.

Amane puts down the letter and sighed heavily. The three of them went over to the older twin to see what was going on. “Not gonna lie that pen pal is creative as hell.” Mitsuba remarked. “Anyways, may I see the letter?”

Amane nodded as he handed the pink haired boy the letter. Mitsuba carefully unfolded the letter and started to read. He grabbed the envelope and started to examine it. Mitsuba notices from the back of the envelope, a slightly peeled off paper. “Hey, Yugi-senpai,” he called. “I think there's a post card stuck on the back of the envelope.”

Kou scrunches his nose. “They probably didn't mean to stick the post card and paint it to camouflage it—”

“Okay who has long nails here?” Amane sighed as he looked at his cutted nails. “I recently cut mine.”

Mitsuba peeled off the postcard from the envelope with ease. He gave the post card faced down to Amane. As Amane receives the card, he flipped it up and saw something that made his stomach drop.

It was the ferris wheel that Amane saw in his dream along with the unfamiliar girl. The question is, what does the ferris wheel have to do with that? “A ferris wheel?” Tsukasa asked.

“This is the ferris wheel I saw in my dream last time—” Amane let out a shaky breath and pointed at the ferris wheel. “There was this girl who appears in my dream two times in different places. One with the carousel and the recent one is this ferris wheel on the post card.”

“Hm? I heard this one from an article that dreaming about a ferris wheel means that you don't want interruptions when you're excited.” Kou explained. “A carousel is a symbol of childish joy, which means that you don't want to forget in the past.”

“Then how about that unfamiliar girl?” Mitsuba asked.

“She could be someone from a past life?”

“If a carousel symbolizes as childhood happiness does that mean that girl was linked to you as a child?”

“I didn't even have a female childhood friend.” Amane crosses his legs. “Besides even if that girl was my childhood friend I wouldn't be able to recognize her.”

“Do you have any information about [name]-san, anyways?” Tsukasa asked.

“She goes to Sanaol Academy, which was far from here.” Amane answered monotonously. “It'll take a subway to go there.”

“How do you know then?” Kou asked.

“I researched her school online, and it was an all girls school.” Amane wetted his lips while brushing his hair back using his fingers. “It's a four hour ride—”

“Four hours?!” Tsukasa, Kou and Mitsuba yelled in disbelief. The three looked at each other and nodded as they knew what they're thinking. Amane raised a perfect brow at them, then looking at the post card on his hand. “That's just—”

“Hold up.” Amane raised his hand to stop them from talking. “The post card that Mitsuba peeled recently, there's something that was written on the back of the envelope.”

There are dots and dashes on the back of the envelope. It is some sort of morse code. Mitsuba thought it was kinda extra since they could've just say the actual letters instead of encoding the message for minutes.

The four of them spent hours to encode the morse, Amane leaned back to his swivel chair as he wiped a sweat from his forehead. “So what does it say?” Tsukasa asked.

Mitsuba and Kou looked over to Amane's shoulder to see the message along with Tsukasa.

“You and me in 5:53 at the ferris wheel...?” Amane says as if it was a question. He turned his head towards the four and gave them a lazy but determined smile. “How would you three like a bonding trip to find [name]?”

“I'm in!” Kou smiled whilst showing both of his canines and pointed at himself. “I'm totally in for some trip!”

“I guess I'll come too.” Mitsuba blew a raspberry and shrugged. “Only because I'm bored as hell.”

“If Amane's going then I'm going too!” Tsukasa wrapped his arms around his older twin causing the latter to elicit an 'oof' from his lips.

“Well that makes us four then. We'll go tomorrow.” Amane tells them.

“Tomorrow?” Mitsuba asked. “What time?”

“Since [name] said to meet at 5:53 pm by the ferris wheel, which wasn't specifically mentioned where and what, I guess we'll ride at dawn.” Amane looked at his laptop and started to peck the keyboard using his fingers. “When we arrive at Sanaol Academy, we'll ask for directions for the ferris wheel from the post card.”

“I have a theory though,” Kou tells him. “It could be a possibility that [name] is the person in your dreams.”

Then it clicked him into epiphany, why didn't he thought of that before? But again, Amane has no idea what [name] looked like anyways. He shouldn't be jumping in to conclusions that fast. Just because the girl who keeps appearing in his dreams doesn't mean it's already [name].

[name].

Amane lets out an exaggerated sigh from his lips and slouched against the swivel chair. He really did miss [name]'s company, even if it's just letters and texts.

Who knows, maybe tomorrow during their trip, they will meet. Amane makes sure of it, he wanted to see [name].

He wanted her to know how much he misses her after they lost each other. He can't go on.

Not without her.

[copias-thrall]

A Terror

A lazy movie marathon turns onto something more…and Suey gets the upper hand.

⬅️ Previous

⚠️🚨Hey guys! In this chapter there's some play fighting between Mary and Suey. It 100% consensual, but it gets pretty rough and may be borderline for some people, so if that's not your thing, I've blocked out the section in *** if you want to skip it! 🚨⚠️

It’s pretty late. 

Mary is watching some horror flick and giggling at the bits you sure aren’t supposed to be funny.

At some point you just laid down on top of him and never moved again, content to doze. His one arm is pillowing his head, but the other seems to travel from your hair, to your neck, to your back—then back up.

At some point you thought you might have felt his erection—and you’re always content to let Mary fuck you while you're half asleep as long as he doesn’t expect you to contribute—but he never did anything about it.

You must fall asleep again, because he’s shaking you.

“Hey,” he says.

“No,” you respond, realizing your cheek is wet with drool.

“You don’t even—”

“No.”

“I have to—”

“No.”

You try to wipe your cheek on his shirt—but apparently you’ve drooled through that too.

“So you’re totally fine with me peeing on your couch then.”

“What’s one more body fluid?” you mumble.

“I’ll do it.”

“I know.”

“Like for real, babe.”

“Mhm.”

When he doesn’t say more, you think maybe he might actually do it.

“Just so you know," he says, "I’m doing this for my own self-preservation.”

And then he tips you off him.

You let out an indignant squawk as you tumble to the floor.

“Fuck you!” you shout as he’s closing the bathroom door halfway behind him.

You can half hear him pissing as you crawl back onto the couch and cuddle yourself into the warm spot he’s left, pulling the afghan over you and your hood over your head. Where you press your face into the cushions smells vaguely of his hair product. 

You track the flush of the toilet and the rush of sink water before you hear the creak of the bathroom door opening again.

“Oh ho ho, a thief!” he chortles.

“Move your meat…” you mumble into the couch, not looking up.

You expect him to jostle back into his vacated place, but instead he lays down on top of you, causing you to expel an Oof! as you’re flattened. (He may be skinny as fuck, but he’s still got some mass on you.)

“Mare! Get off!”

You squirm under him.

“No.” He snuffles into the nape of your neck.

“I mean it!”

“No.”

“You’re the worst, and I hate you. Get the fuck off me!”

“Make me.”

You’re still rather groggy—and Mary has the advantage here—so despite your best efforts, you remain thoroughly pinned under him. He bites the back of your neck through your hoodie, hard, and you grunt.

“You’re mine. I claim you.”

“You missed your opportunity to pee on me.”

“Guess I’ll just have to fuck you full of cum.”

Your heart quickens in interest, and you turn your head slightly.

“What about your movie?”

There's a slight pause before Mary quips,

“Background porn.”

“You’re fucked in the head, Goore.”

“Like you care.”

(You don’t.)

You can feel his hard-on pressing into you, and you're flushed with interest.

***

“Do you want me to fight back or lie still?”

His wet tongue licks your ear.

“Oh, now ain't those two delectable choices?” He ruts into you. “Yeah. Yeah, fight back a little. Make me earn it. You can even slap me around a bit.”

“Ok—but don’t choke me or rip my clothes. You’re a fucking menace to my wardrobe.”

He’s destroyed half your tights, a pair of sleep pants, and one blouse.

“Deal. Ready?”

“Yeah. Go.”

Mary yanks your arm behind you.

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”

“Just fucking try it!” you spit before Mary presses your head down.

“Who’s going to stop me?” he whispers in your ear, and then he starts tugging at your hoodie. You squirm and wriggle against him, trying to make it as hard as possible for Mary to manhandle the sweatshirt off you.

“Fuck you!” you snarl.

“That can be obliged.”

He gives a yank, and a slight ripping sound can be heard. Mary freezes, then he lifts your arm to inspect the armpit seam.

“I think it’s fine.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you exhale before tugging it off fully. You toss it over the back of the couch before lying back down. “Ok.”

He grabs your hair. “Fucking cunt.”

You somehow manage to elbow him in the ribs, and he lets go of your hair with a grunt. You try to buck him off you, but he’s got the weight advantage. The two of you struggle—you flailing your limbs and him trying to keep you pinned while getting you naked—and soon you find your tits exposed while you look up at him. He’s looking down at your face, and he shoves his fingers into your mouth. When you bite down lightly, he yanks his hand free.

“Bitch.” 

He squeezes a tit. 

“I’m gonna make you pay for that.”

“The fuck you are!” you shout, and then you spit at him. 

He’s slightly startled, and you use that momentary distraction to slap him hard in the face. You heave yourself up and go to slap him again, but he catches your wrist. You’re so wrapped up in yanking your hand free that you don’t realize his other hand is in your hair until it’s too late. He crashes your lips together, so you bite down hard. When he yanks you away, he tongues his lip where you broke skin. His eyes are dilated, and he’s breathing hard. You slap him again with your free hand, and he makes a wounded sound.

So you slap him again.

At some point he dropped your wrist, and now you bring it up to squeeze at his jaw.

“Not such a big man now, are you?”

You smack his cheek, then wind your hand in his hair to yank his head back.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Fuck you, bitch.”

You slide your hand down from his jaw to squeeze at his neck.

“Bitch…” he wheezes.

You squeeze a little harder, and one of his hands comes up to grab at your wrist. When he doesn’t do much else, you squeeze just a little more. Mary’s eyes roll back, and his hips give a little twitch. You reach down with your other hand and fumble with Mary’s belt buckle and zipper. His dick is hard, and when you pull it free, you find it flushed, the tip shiny with his precum. You give it a small slap—a tap, really. His hand tightens around your wrist and a wheezing moan emanates from his throat.

“You want to call me that again, big man?”

“B-Bitch.”

You slap his cock again, just a little harder, and Mary’s whole body twitches. 

So you slap it again.

He whimpers, and his hand swiftly covers it.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought,” you sneer as you shake him slightly. 

Letting go of his neck, you push him backward with both hands as you scramble out from under him. You shuck off your pajama pants before straddling him. He stares up at you with wide, dark eyes.

“Please,” is the only thing he says.

You stuff a pant leg in his mouth.

“Please nothing. You think you’ve earned my pussy?”

When he doesn’t answer, you slap him.

“Do you?!”

He shakes his head.

You give his neck a quick squeeze.

“Undress, but stay there.” You jab a finger at him, “Or I’ll have to punish you.”

***

You make your way to your bedroom where you grab your lube and towel that’s draped over the hamper. Hesitating, you then grab the hairbrush from his drawer (just for show).

When you come back out, you’re surprised to find Mary touching himself, so you give a crack to his hand with the brush. He grunts, but pulls his hand away.

“Did you think that was going to fly?”

His lowered eyes are your answer.

You start arranging things—the brush in view on the coffee table, and the towel folded in half under him—as you berate him.

“One would think that maybe you want to be punished. Do you? That can be arranged, Mary.”

Eyes still lowered, he shakes his head at you.

“Then be a good boy,” you say as you straddle him again. “Don’t touch yourself—or me—unless I give you permission. Nod if you understand.”

Mary nods.

“Good boy,” you say as you caress his cheek.

You pump a dollop of lube into your palm to coat Mary’s dick. As your slick fist runs up and down his length, Mary shudders and moans. When you slap his thigh, he jerks.

“Don’t cum,” you bark. “Not ‘til I say.”

He whimpers but nods.

Mary loves his instant gratification, so you make a slow business of running your loose fist from root to tip. You make sure to squeeze your hand as you pop almost entirely off his cockhead before pushing back down into your tight hold. Mary whines and twitches as his hands fist into your couch cushions. 

You lick your lips at every movement of his hips and every hitched breath that escapes his lips.

Suddenly, you speed your hand up to a frenetic pace, and Mary bows off the couch, letting out little siren wails. Your arm flies as Mary goes rigid and shakes from your ministrations. When you see him start holding his breath, you let go, and Mary deflates like a leaky balloon—with the same type of whine.

His eyes pop open and look at you plaintively.

You smirk at him. “Looks like I’m in charge here, bud.”

Mary’s heaving chest flattens as he lets a stream of air out of his nose, and you start up your slow build again. His eyes roll as his hips rock up into your fist, and you allow it because you love seeing how desperate he is for your touch. When your other hand comes into play, rolling his tight balls, Mary starts trembling again.

You wonder if he can smell your arousal.

As long as you keep jacking his cock and running your thumb over his sensitive spot, Mary doesn’t seem to notice that your other hand leaves his balls. You slip two fingers into your lips to lightly massage your pulsing clit—you press a little to relieve the tension, but this is about Mary.

Once your fingers are nice and coated, you raise them to Mary’s face so you can smear your slick under his nose and onto his lips.

“Oh god,” he moans when he realizes what you’ve done. His glazed eyes focus on you as sweat drips down his temples. You’re mesmerized by the way his chest heaves and his stomach contracts.

And then you speed up again.

Mary’s eyes squeeze shut, and he turns his head to bite into the corner of a back cushion. You bring him once more to the brink before letting go again.

He must have known what was coming, but his legs still jerk and he still whimpers at the loss of contact, his hips twitching up into nothing. It’s only once he settles do you start your slow stroke up again as he whines—in distress or pleasure, you’re not sure. (Both is good.)

You repeat the process until there’s almost no time between stopping and getting him all worked up to the point of blowing again. Mary's heels are digging into the couch, and you feel like you’re trying to stay on a mechanical bull. He’s been babbling OhPleaseOhPleaseOhPleaseOhPlease for quite some time now, and you want to watch him shoot his load as much as he wants to release it.

Leaning down closer to him, you say in a husky voice, “I’m gonna let you cum.” Mary just groans and grips the couch harder. You speed up, fascinated and turned on by the way Mary twists and jerks from your touch. He’s practically hyperventilating now as his body shakes in between going rigid.

True to your word, you jerk him off until he lets out a whine that would put off any dog and his entire body tenses; his first shot of cum shoots out from his dick and up his chest, and then you grip his kicking cock at the base and slap the head over and over, watching as his cum splatters every which way.

Mary looks at you with wide, surprised eyes as he moans out his pleasure. His eyes dart from your face down to his dick and back up. It’s only once the line of his body goes lax do you take your hands from him. Mary shudders, and his arm comes up to cover his eyes as his chest heaves and his dick pulses while it softens.

You brush the sweaty locks from his forehead and lean down to press a kiss there.

“Hold on, buddy,” you coo before carefully extracting yourself from the couch.

On wobbling legs, you pull on your bottoms and shirt before sprinting to the bathroom to turn on the hot water spigot before sprinting to the kitchen where you hurry to get a bite of chocolate from his coffin and pour a glass of Pedialyte. You deposit the latter on the coffee table before alighting back to the bathroom. 

Now that the water is hot, you wet Mary’s washcloth and watch as the steam from it curls into the air.

Mary hasn’t really moved—merely grunting when you use the warm cloth to wipe him clean of cum and lube—though he does give a hearty twitch when you wipe his soft cock.

Once he’s mostly clean, you clamber onto the couch and manipulate his head into your lap.

“Hey, you need to drink some of this, ok?”

“No,” he grumbles petulantly.

You tap his arm lightly. “Yes. Now, please.”

When he removes his arm, his eyes meet yours with a grumpy stare, but he raises himself up enough that he can imbibe the liquid. He drinks it down in three gulps before handing it back to you, and you trade him the chocolate.

He pops the sweet into his mouth before turning to press his face into your abdomen and curling into you. You run your fingers through his stiff, sweaty hair.

“You’re a good boy, Mare.”

He whines, and you pull the afghan down to arrange over him and your lap. You continue to massage his scalp until you can tell by the evenness of his breathing that he’s asleep.

Comfortable, but trapped, you finish watching the rest of the movie with a warm, sleeping boy in your lap. When it ends, the next one comes on, but you don't move; your phone is just out of reach, and you really don’t want to disturb Mary, so you just tip your head back onto the couch to rest your eyes.

It’s his squirming that jolts you out of your doze.

“Cold,” he says.

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes.

“Mm…you want me to get your pjs, baby?”

Mary sits up, clasping the blanket tight around him. He stretches and yawns, his feet peeking out and his gnarly toes contracting as he does so.

“Nah. Gotta take a leak anyway.”

While he takes care of his situation, you yank your hoodie back on and retrieve your phone. When the knit is unceremoniously tossed over your head, you squawk and flail until you manage to pull it off. Mary’s back on the couch, cackling at you in the pjs he keeps in his drawer; he looks so soft and inviting that, instead of retaliating, you snuggle up into his side, pulling the afghan over the two of you. Mary’s too surprised at your action to do much more than raise up his arm and help arrange the ends. 

“Maybe we oughta just get into bed,” he says as he kisses your head.

You swat at him haphazardly, but there’s no real feeling behind it.

“I thought you wanted to watch this marathon?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he says as his one hand sneaks down and into your pants to rest on your ass.

You drift off again, letting Mary enjoy his gore until you’re jostled awake once more by him.

“You don’t spank me enough.”

“Hmm?” you hum as you twist to look up at him.

The toes of his one foot are curled over the edge of the coffee table, and he detaches them to point his big toe at the hairbrush.

“I got all excited.”

You rub your hand down his stomach.

“You didn’t do anything to warrant a punishment, Mare.”

“It’s not a punishment.”

You look up at him and wriggle an arm free so you can stroke his chin.

“No, it’s not.” You trace his jawline. “The rules are just the vehicle.”

He grabs your wrist so he can kiss your palm.

“But what happens if I don’t break the rules?”

The two of you stay like that for a few beats as the sounds of a chainsaw and screaming emanate from the TV. Your mind is whirring, though you’re not sure if Mary’s attention is back on the movie.

“What if we did more than the rules?”

Mary’s head tilts to look down at you.

“Whadaya mean?”

You adjust yourself until you can look at him comfortably.

“Like, we could still do the rules, but what if we also had like: Spank Day.”

His brow furrows.

“Spank…day?”

“Yeah. Like, once a month you come over and I spank the shit out of you.”

The resting hand on your ass tightens. He blinks at you.

“Yeah?”

You run a palm over his groin and find a semi waiting for you.

“Yeah,” you say, grinning. You rub the area around his half chub. “Block off a night every month, and I’ll cherry your ass.”

His hips twitch.

“Like tonight?”

You feel the blood rush in between your legs, but honestly, you’re exhausted. You sigh and run your palm down his thigh.

“Fuck, Mare…I’m—”

He kisses your head again.

“No, you’re right.”

His hand skims your cunt from behind before trailing down your thigh.

“How ‘bout I make you scream instead?”

You’re not going to say no to a free orgasm.

You spread your legs. “Mm, that sounds nice.”

Two of his fingers slip into your slit and begin to lightly rub up and down. You moan, tilting your head back, and Mary buries his nose in your neck.

“But before I go on the tri-state tour, yeah?”

You twitch your hips up into his touch and growl, 

“I’ll make it so you can’t sit the entire time.”

Next ➡️ _______________________________________________ Special Thanks to @asaintlysinner who suggested Spank Day when I lamented I didn't spank Mary enough due to wanting plot and variety 😆 

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 27

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 27: Someone from Amelia's past returns and causes a stir. Tommy begins to make himself known to people even in London

TW: Discussion of past rape/assault

It was a startling cold fall. Amelia felt the chill in her bones and she couldn’t entirely blame it on the weather. Tommy had successfully distanced himself from her and she was feeling the effects deep in her heart. The man she had married was gone. It was something that she forced herself to reckon with.

There was another thing she had to reckon with come October when a chill was starting to form in the air.

Luckily, it was Martha who intercepted him before he came into the betting shop. What was even luckier was Arthur and Tommy were gone on business in London.

She came over to find Amelia helping out with the books for the day. “Mel, there’s a man at the window asking for you.”

“Who is it?” She hardly looked up from the ledger, too consumed with work. It had become one of two outlets she had. Working in the shop and tending to the children.

The pregnant woman shrugged. “Said he knew you. Said he came from London.”

That caused to Amelia lift her head. There were few people she knew from London who knew she was in Birmingham. “Was he older?” She feared maybe her mother had disclosed her location to her father.

“No, ‘bout your age I’d guess.”

That made Amelia even sicker to her stomach. “Thanks, Marty, I’ll handle it.” She stood up and went to the window.

Martha, sensing her sister-in-law’s uneasiness, followed close behind just in case.

Steven was the son of a wealthy banker and a socialite. He’d known nothing but luxury and excess. Rarely did people deny him.

As much as Amelia hated to admit it, Max did resemble him in a way. They had the same hazelnut-colored eyes and light brown hair. But she had blocked out most of that. She could separate her son from the monster who took advantage of her.

“Leave.” She snarled.

“Amelia, please if you just let me…”

“Let you what? Huh? You don’t deserve a second to explain anything.” She gripped the doorjamb, trying to maintain her composure.

“I’ve just come back from France. I did a lot of thinking over there. Your mother sent me a letter about seeing you. About what she found out.”

“She should’ve kept her mouth shut.” Amelia interrupted. “She had no right to tell you anything.”

“No right? How dare you not tell me about the pregnancy? I have an eight-year-old-”

Martha caught Amelia before she could lunge at the man.

“You have nothing!” She shouted. “You have no right to claim him as your own. Neither do my parents. You keep him out of your thoughts because you’ll never have anything to do with him. I’ll die before I let you near him.”

Undeterred by Amelia’s ferocious state, Steven continued. “I have every right as his father. You’ll have trouble if you keep him from me, Amelia!”

“You’re not his fucking father!”

“John!” Martha shouted back into the shop for her husband. She was having a difficult time reining Amelia in.

“He’ll know nothing of you. And you’ll never know him. You won’t even know his name. You go back to London and you never come back here again, do you hear me?”

John rushed over and separated everyone. He put himself between the two women and Steven. “Who’re you shouting at, mate?” He demanded.

“This isn’t any of your business.” Steven didn’t balk at the fresh-faced man stepping in.

“It is my fucking business. This is the Shelby shop and those women are Shelbys.”

“Typical. She returns to the slums and ends up with the likes of you.” He scoffed.

John’s eyes narrowed. It wouldn’t be wise to cut the man in front of other customers in broad daylight, even if he wanted to. “You stay here much longer and you’ll be sorry.”

“You must be one of the boys she ran the streets with. Did she whore herself out to you too or just the other one?”

Amelia tried to get back at him but couldn’t get past John.

“This family owns these streets. Soon enough we’ll be owning streets in London.” John threatened. “So, move along before you make things worse for yourself.”

“Do you know who the fuck I am?” Steven snapped.

“Your name don’t matter here. The only name that matters here is Shelby. And don’t fucking forget it.” He hissed. “Scudboat, get this bastard out of here.”

Amelia was shaking but Martha managed to get her to sit down. “I should’ve known. My mother has no problem going behind my back. That selfish, selfish, selfish woman.” She choked back a sob. The entire encounter had opened up old wounds.

“Deep breaths.” Martha coaxed.

“How dare he-he try to call himself a father. How dare he?” She ranted. “After everything, he did to me? He destroyed everything.”

“John’ll take care of it. He’ll call Tom and Arthur.” Martha assured her. “They’ll make sure he never comes back.”

Hot tears rolled down Amelia’s cheeks. “What if he takes Max from me?” She sobbed.

“That won’t happen.”

“His family is powerful, they have money. What if they go to the courts?”

John was leaning against the wall just in case Steven returned. “We’ve got money too, Mel.” He said gently although he was still angry too. Amelia was a sister to him and there was no way he was going to let a man speak to his sister in such a way. “He won’t be back if he knows what’s good for him.”

“John, why don’t you go try and call Tom?” Martha suggested.

He glanced out the window one more time before going into Arthur’s office to make the call.

“Will you check on Ada and the children?” Amelia asked her sister-in-law.

“Of course, you’ll be alright?”

“Yeah.”

Martha gave her a squeeze before going next door.

Amelia stood and made her way to Arthur’s office. She stood by the door so John couldn’t see her but she could hear him.

“Arthur, is Tom there?” John asked when his brother answered. There was a pause. “Tom, it’s John. Some bastard just came ‘round looking for Mel. Guess he’s Max’s well-yeah. Yeah, biological.” Another pause. “Scudboat took care of him. Well, guess he’s going back to London. That’s where Mel said he’s from. His car? Looked like an Austin. A sixty, maybe a fifty. Well, how should I know, Tom? He shouting at Mel and Martha, I didn’t ask for his fucking address.” John sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’ll see if they can catch up to him.” He hung up the phone and Amelia quickly moved away from the door.

John walked past her and called for Scudboat and a couple of other men. She watched as he handed the keys to the family car over and they left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Amelia didn’t hear from Tommy that night even though he planned on calling. The phone stayed silent on the hook. Martha came over to the flat to keep her company.

“Oof, I tell ya, this one is not easy.” The young woman held a hand to her lower back. “Abby and Wilbur were so easy. Thought it would be just as easy this time around.” She rubbed a hand over her stomach.

“Ask Polly for some remedy. She always knows what to do.” Amelia suggested. She was sitting on Annie’s bed across from her sister-in-law. The two were each braiding their daughter’s hair. Max was on the floor laying on his stomach as he toyed around with wooden soldiers with Wilbur.

Martha nodded. “Oh, Abby, your hair is so long.” She sighed. “I can’t believe how old you are sometimes.” She cooed and kissed her beloved daughter’s cheek.

“I’m big too, mummy, right?” Annie chirped.

“Very big.” Amelia smiled. “In a couple of years, you’ll be going to school like your brother and cousins.”

“School’s boring,” Max muttered from his spot on the carpet.

“Well, you need an education,” Amelia replied. “Someday you’ll thank us for that opportunity.”

“Finn says we don’t need school.” Wilbur piped up.

Martha and Amelia shared a guilty look. It had been such a misfortune that Finn couldn’t go to school when the boys were away at war. He had missed so much and now he felt he was old enough to decide if he went or not. Unfortunately, Tommy and the others agreed. They wanted to mold him into the next Blinder. The poor boy couldn’t even read.

“Sometimes it’s difficult to see that what we do now, although it’s hard or may not be fun, it will mean a lot to us in the future. You’ll be thankful for it, I promise.”

~~~~~~~~

Tommy returned home the next night, a day later than he originally promised. Amelia was finished tucking in the children when he came upstairs. They exchanged a kiss and Tommy put his bag on the bed.

“Are they asleep?” He asked.

“No, they’ll still be awake.” She answered.

He pecked her cheek again before going to say goodnight to Annie and Max.

While he did, Amelia began to unpack his bag and sort through the dirty and clean clothes. Inside, she found one of his white button-downs. Dried blood was splattered across the collar and sleeves.

She held the shirt in her hand for longer than she realized, just staring at the maroon-colored stains. There was no question in her mind whose blood it was.

The floor creaked behind her as Tommy returned. He saw her holding the shirt.

“Did you kill him?” She asked quietly.

“No.” He answered truthfully. “Just cut him. He won’t be around again.”

Amelia finally let go of the shirt. “What if he goes to the police?”

Tommy closed the bedroom door behind him before going to sit on the bed. “He won’t if he knows what’s good for him. He knows we won’t be in there for long. And when we come out…”

“You promised not to get nicked again.”

“What was I supposed to do?” He questioned. “He thinks he can come around her again demanding to see our son? We taught him a lesson. I’m not getting nicked for anything.”

“I don’t want you getting in trouble because of him. It’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it?” He stood up and took her hand. “You don’t think I would go to prison defending you?”

“You hardly even look at me anymore.” She whispered. “I know you’re struggling, Tom, and that’s okay. I promised I would never abandon you. But don’t abandon your family because of some crusade you think you need to take on.”

“I won’t fucking let him near my family.”

“Then focus on your family.” Amelia challenged. “Stop pushing me away!”

“This again.” Tommy rubbed a hand over his face. “Every fucking conversation leads to this, Mel.”

“Because it’s been the same for weeks. I feel like you don’t even want to be around me anymore. You used to be my world, Tommy. I would wake up in the morning and you’d always be there. Every day you would be there. You were attentive and caring and so passionate. Now I-I don’t even know if you want me anymore.”

“I can’t apologize for changing,” Tommy muttered, letting go of her hand. “I can’t apologize for being forced into war and being broken down. I’m doing me best, Amelia. I don’t know what more you can ask from me. You want the old Tommy; well, I can’t bring him back for you even if I wanted. I still love you just as much as the day you came back to Small Heath. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Neither do I.”

Tommy took a deep breath and walked back over to her. There she was, still the same quiet young woman who arrived in Small Heath broken and afraid. He felt that maybe once he got his hands on the man who broke her, he would be satisfied. Maybe she would be too. If she knew that he had forced the man to his knees, forced him to beg for his life, force him to apologize for everything he’d done.

But Tommy knew all that and he still didn’t feel at ease. Just like he didn’t feel at ease when he returned home. They could be brought away from the trauma and danger, but it still clung on without mercy.

“Do you know what cycle I go through every night?” Amelia asked quietly.

“Tell me.” He begged. There was nothing more he wanted to do but heal her pain. Just like she tried to heal his. It may have been futile efforts, all of them, but he would never stop trying. Even if he felt empty inside.

“I have nightmares every night. Nightmares that you’re leaving again. That you’ve been killed in war. That you’ve-you’ve left me for someone else.” She choked back a sob. “And every week or so I have the same nightmare I’ve had longer than any other. It just replays the night that he-that he raped me.” In almost ten years since the assault, Amelia had never said the word out loud. She could never get herself to. There was so much anguish and guilt. Her parents said it had been her own fault. Steven had claimed she wanted it too. To try and put herself at ease, she never said what he truly did to her. Until that night.

Tommy pulled her into his arms. It was true that he felt so far away from her. So far away from his children, his siblings, his aunt, his nieces and nephews. Everyone. He felt so far away from Small Heath. But that didn’t mean he was withdrawing from his duty as a father, brother, husband, nephew, all of it. He’d be there physically, if not mentally. That’s all he could do.

And he vowed to himself as he held his wife flush to his chest, if he ever saw Steven again, he would murder the man.

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Masterlist

PB Masterpost

[osamiiya]

Pairing: Akaashi x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: In which Akaashi spends the entire week trying to ask y/n out, not quite ending in the romantic way he thought but would.

A/n: I love Akaashi so much, also I'm gonna try a different format for this fic, please tell me If it was ok, or if it was hard to read!

Monday-

Akaashi made up his mind, he was going to ask his longtime crush and friend, you, out by the end of the week.

He sat at his desk thinking of ideas and scrapping the ones that seem bad.

'What if I just ask her? But when?' His thoughts are interrupted by the teacher clearing her voice and starting class.

He takes notes vigilantly eyes wandering to where you sat two seats up and to the left of him, hair slightly falling into your face as you occasionally look up at the board.

The school day goes by slowly, and it feels like forever before lunch.

'Should I just get it over with?'

He stands from his desk right as Bokuto appears in the doorway.

"Akaashi! Let's have lunch in the clubroom." He exclaims, loudly, may I add.

Akaashi sighs slightly, but can't help the small smile that makes its way into his face as he grabs his lunch and walks out with Bokuto, listening as he talked animatedly about a new play he wanted to try.

After lunch, you got paired with a different student for a project, not exactly giving Akaashi the 'golden opportunity' to ask you out.

Once the school bell rang signaling the end of school, your friends got to you first, pulling you out of your seat just as you finished packing up, and disappearing out the door with a "Sorry Akaashi! I'll see you tomorrow!"

'Tomorrow for sure'

Tuesday-

It was raining on this Tuesday, nobody though it would, but the drops of water came quickly from the sky, creating a pattering noise on the pavement.

You burst through the door, your hair and the top half of your uniform shirt drenched. At least your blazer was dry, as you bowed to the teacher aplogetically, and fumbled to close the buttons.

Akaashi watches out of the corner of his eye as you opened your bag taking out your book, realizing you forgot your pencil case.

He watched as you ask the people around you, failing to accuire a pencil, before turning to him and gesturing to a pencil.

He nods and gives you one, heart racing as your fingers brush slightly, and you give him a smile that made his head spin slightly. He's got it bad.

The lunch comes and goes, Akaashi insisting you keep it until the day ends, so you have something to write with in your afternoon classes.

He would've asked you out but thought, 'It seems like I'm asking them out as payment for borrowing my pencil.'

'Tomorrow he thought as he changed in the club room'

Wednesday-

It was Wednesday when everything went wrong.

He walked into class to see a guy probably from another class leaning over your desk as you both laughed. He couldn't tell who it was at first, and he couldn't help the squeeze in his heart and throat that caught his breath.

'Of course they'd get asked out, they're gorgeous.'

Class started and Akaashi tried his best not to look over at you.

Once lunch started be got up out of his seat and decided to meet Bokuto halfway, seeing you get up and turn towards him, about to walk over.

"Bokuto-san!" He, not yelled, but said loudly as he jogged over to the captain.

"Akaashi! How's it going with the plan to ask y/n out? "

Akaashi frowned as they began walking to the club room. "They're either already dating someone or they got asked out this morning. I saw."

Bokuto frowned "But you don't know for sure, they would've told you."

Akaashi sighed, "Yeah, but I'd rather not take a chance and end up embarrassing myself, besides it's not like I have a say in who they get to date or not."

Bokuto nods in response, ideas brewing in his head how did Akaashi not see the way Y/n looked at him too?

Once they got to the club room Akaashi out his stuff down and turned to Bokuto "I'm gonna try to distance myself, it would be better if I just got over my feelings."

"If that's what you think you should do." He laughed nervously, making eye contact with Konoha, who had an eyebrow raised at the pair.

'Does he know?' Konoha mouthed, Bokuto shaking his head in response.

Thursday-

Akaashi walked into the classroom, his stoic face not wavering as he walked by y/n's desk, replacing his usual small smile with a nod to them.

He only felt slightly bad when y/n frowned, looking concerned. The class felt like it would never end, as he saw y/n take glances at him in his peripheral vision.

The bell for lunch rang after why felt like forever, and he got up right away and walked as quickly as he could out of the door, not missing how y/n stood up from their desk about to walk over to them.

'Should they even be coming over to talk to me when they're dating someone?'

He ran straight into Bokuto's back, head too preoccupied with overthinking.

"Oof" Akaashi grunted, snapping out of his thoughts.

Bokuto turned and narrowed his eyes, it wasn't like Akaashi to be so preoccupied when it wasnt exam week.

"You ok, Akaashi?" Bokuto steadys Akaashi by holding onto his shoulders.

Akaashi nods "Just thinking about the practice game tomorrow."

Bokuto can tell that Akaashi wanted to change the subject by the way he picked at the skin between his middle and ring finger.

They talked all through lunch in the club room, well, Bokuto talked and Akaashi gave input when needed, talking all the way to Akaashi's classroom, where Bokuto left Akaashi with a wave and a speedwalk down the hallway and up the stairs.

He ignored the states you gave him, you couldn't possibly be worried, it's not like you were the closest of friends, only occasionally studying together, eating lunch together and walking home.

The bell rang and Akaashi, who was usually one of the last to leave, was the first out, wanting to avoid your confrontation.

You stood outside of the clubroom that he just disappeared into.

"Ah! Bokuto-senpai!" You jogged down the stairs to where Bokuto just left the school.

"Did I do something to upset Akaashi?" You ask.

Bokuto shook his head "It's not my place to say, but don't worry about it."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair "Should I still go through with it tomorrow?"

Bokuto's eyes widened.

"Of course you have to!"

You nod, "Well, I'm gonna go home, I wouldn't want to keep you from practice."

Sending him a wave you walk home.

Friday-

Friday came finally, and a small part of Akaashi's brain chatsized him for not asking you out.

He sat in class, feelings repressed as he took notes, absorbed in the lesson.

Lunch came quickly, and you stood out of your seat and left the classroom.

Akaashi sighed with relief and took out his lunch slowly and walked slowly to find Bokuto.

He couldn't find Bokuto in his classroom, so he left the main building to the clubroom, and then the gym.

He was about to turn the corner when he heard your voice mix with Bokuto's.

"No he dosent know yet, come to the practice game tonight to tell him."

Of course you would be dating Bokuto. Who wouldn't? The ace had a vibrant personality and was attractive. He got letters from admirers and girls confessing all the time.

He couldn't help the jealousy that coursed through him as he walked back to the classroom, eating there.

The day went by quickly, Akaashi zoning in and out of insecure thoughts and taking notes.

For the last 30 minutes of the day however, Akaashi pushed all thoughts away except for the notes in front of him, and the practice game after school.

The bell rang and Akaashi's focus was on the game and the new play that the team was going to try.

"Akaashi!" Bokuto yelled once he saw Akaashi.

Akaashi startled himself with the jealousy that bloomed when he saw Bokuto.

'No, you can ask him later, the game is more important.'

He smiled and walked with him, politely listening to what the Ace had to say.

once they made it to the club room, the room was quiet, everyone getting into the zone.

They warmed up, and watched as the other team walked in.

They played, and won after 3 long sets. The team yelling in victory.

They bowed to the other team and began to clean up, some of his teammates on the floor, tired.

Akaashi went with some teammates to put the net away, and once he came back, he was met with you talking to Bokuto. Putting on a wry smile, he walked over.

"Oh! Akaashi! Can we talk?" You exclaimed, a nervous tremor in your voice.

He nodded and walked with you outside of the gym, not noticing how his team gathered behind the door, listening.

"So, um, we've been friends for a while, and-" You started, as Akaashi cut you off.

"Y/n, it's ok, I know you're dating Bokuto."

Your jaw dropped, in shock. The two of you stood in silence for a minute before he moved to leave.

He froze when he heard laughing, your laughing.

"I'm not dating Bokuto-senpai. I was trying to ask you out." You smiled, slightly out of breath.

Akaashi stood there in shock before turning and yelling at the sky.

"Are you kidding me?" He turned back to you, a wide grin on his face.

You looked shocked and had tears welling up in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I must've gotten mixed signals." You sniff, as Akaashi realizes his mistake.

"No, I'm so happy, I've been trying to ask you out all week, but thought you were dating Bokuto."

You smile back at him as he drags you into a hug.

Scrunching your nose you pull away.

"You're sweaty." You laugh lightly.

"Wait here, I'll walk you home once I change." Akaashi can't wipe the grin off his face as he jogs to the club room.

Once he gets back he sees you bowing to Bokuto and Konoha.

"Thank you for helping me even though it didn't go as planned."

Everything fits into place in Akaashi's brain as he walks up and bows to them, and waving to his team as he grabs your hand.

"I'm so happy." He sighs

"All week huh?" You tease, causing Akaashi's ears to burn pink.

"I'm also not forgetting how you yelled at the sky." You continue, swinging your arms lightly.

"I was excited" He says, calm demeanor back.

You both chuckle as you swing your arms walking the rest of the way home.