#stands and stares out a window. im gonna have to put the tag just to be safe arent i .

[xdeewolfx]

Your tags were probably jesting but I do actually have a Wainwright impression I'm sure would be perfect if I had just went on T.

Anyways good tag essay. I suggest you stop talking abt the movie tho, that shit, and the massive negative sentiment in the fanbase, poisons one's brain (talking from personal experience) Maybe read a fun fic or something. Touch some grass.

my tag was genuine i promise you EHEH, if i see a blog associated with a character you are gettin read in that voice 😤! you are wainwright as far as i'm concerned!!! i was actually in the middle of drawing a silly vent(??) art about the movie when i saw this ask and decided to take your advice and shift gears into something more sillay !

the world is bliss. only happy thoughts yaay ❤️

[sunny-reis]

OMG HI I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE AKITO!! may i request akito x reader cuddling after a long, rough day? if thats cool. oneshot if you do :) have a good one 🤞

oneshot - tired cuddles with akito

you're the coffee that i need in the morning; you're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring

an: OUUYDHDHHDFH TYSM !! 🫶🫶 tbh i thought the other akito oneshot would end up being garbage bc i'm not as familiar with him or vivid bad squad (*'-'*) tbh i've been feeling touch starved lately so im gonna focus more on the affection here lolz (worry not it'll be a balance of fluff and mild angst)

tags: gender neutral reader, just a tidbit of angst (having a shitty day), intimacy

there's no way today could possibly get any worse.

at least, you hope so. sometimes you hit rock bottom and think it can only go uphill from there, but life comes back with a pickaxe, ready to dig until you're truly at your worst.

like today. you think you must've woken up on the wrong side, since absolutely nothing went right – you spilled cereal on your kamiyama high school uniform in a hurry, almost missed the bus, nearly fell asleep (and got yelled at for it) in math class, noticed your backpack was ripping just a second too late, and came home at the wrong moment, when the sprinklers were on, and ended walking inside completely soaked. needless to say, you’ve had a miserable day.

the thick piles and piles of homework to do don't help, either. as you lay in bed, mindlessly scrolling through pinterest, the deep pit in your stomach envelopes you in guilt. even though you've been trying to get up and start doing whatever you can get your hands on, maybe pre-calculus worksheets or an analysis of “the most dangerous game,” you find you simply can't, being too drained to do anything but lament in your head. mentally and physically, you barely have the strength to make it through the rest of the day.

hours go by, the bright afternoon sky becoming a beautiful purple-pink sunset around dusk, and you still haven't moved from your bed. your parents came in a handful of times to try and get you to let it out, but to no avail – you don’t foresee yourself getting up any time soon. it's only when your stomach rumbles that you sit up and pad downstairs to grab a snack from the kitchen.

pouring out a handful of cheerios into a bowl, you zone out, staring out the window overlooking the backyard. although you feel slightly better after a session of moping and lying in bed for hours on end, time goes by viscously; you find you’re still not out of the mental slump, and everything feels too overwhelming. the hair on your arms is too prickly, your sweatshirt too warm, and you have the sudden urge to claw at your skin. sighing, you trudge back upstairs and quietly shut the door, sitting down at your desk. after putting your phone on silent, you browse soap2day for a random movie to drown everything out with (and hopefully forget about the rest of the day).

after finish watching howl’s moving castle for the nth time, you sit up in your chair, stretching and yawning. although you still somehow feel like garbage, imagining yourself as a character sure felt relieving (and fed your escapism, but that’s a worry for another day). shutting your laptop down, you crawl into bed to try and sleep; the analog clock on your night stand reads 11:37. placing your phone on the table, you pull the covers over yourself in attempt to drift off.

unfortunately, your attempts were only fruitful for forty-five minutes at most. you awake to an abrupt thud on your window. brows furrowed, you shrug off the covers to see just what’s going on; opening the window, you’re met with the unexpected presence of an abashed akito crouched on the roof.

“akito? what the hell are you doing here, and at this hour?” you ask, eyes wide.

“can you let me in first? it’s cold and windy and i think i might fall.” facepalming, you help him crawl through the window, shivering at the suddend draft and closing it.

“so, care to answer my question?” you pick at him, flopping down on the bed and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“i should be asking you that, honestly,” he shrugs, “i tried texting and calling you but i didn’t get anything back, so here i am.”

“oh…” you laugh sheepishly, “sorry about that, i had a shitty day and couldn’t stand having my phone go off.”

“aw, what happened?” akito asks, joining you in bed. you glance at the door, checking to see if it’s locked. although your parents are more than welcoming of akito, seeing him with you alone would be a bit of an unpleasant shock. leaning on his shoulder and pulling the blanket over the two of you, you recount your eventful day to him as he fiddles with a lock of your hair.

“and i didn’t even get to have lunch in between all that.” you add, whining. although you now find the events just a little funny, you still cringe in embarrassment when thinking about being yelled at by a teacher in public.

“i’m sorry all that happened,” says akito, pulling you closer to him, “but you know you can talk to me about it if you want to, right?”

“yeah,” you pout.

“well, are you feeling any better than before? if not, i know just what to do.”

“i think so? i watched howl’s moving castle and it made me feel a little better.”

“i think christian bale tends to have that effect on people.”

“for sure!” you not, “but yeah, i feel…icky, i guess.”

“maybe you should take a shower, sometimes that helps,” he offers, “but you should probably do that in the morning, you’ll get sick if you shower now.” you roll your eyes.

“really? that’s such a mom thing to say.”

“hey, don’t come to me if you shower and get a cold!”

“nah, i’m too tired to shower right now. since, y’know, i was in the middle of sleeping until someone woke me up.” akito laughs sheepishly.

“is it really my fault if you made me worried sick? i mean, i was just fulfilling my role as the caring boyfriend, don’t you think?”

“sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” you laugh, laying down on his lap.

the two of you spend a while chatting in bed until god-knows-what time, when you’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. akito makes a show out of tucking you in, giving you a quick peck before climbing back out the window. you melt away into a dreamy sleep, feeling warm and fuzzy at the thought of akito’s warm embrace.

[hyperfixationcenter]

Carve in My Heart ❤️🗡️

Tw: Mentions of drinking and a few cuss words

(Authors Note: I HOPE THAT I COOKED AND THAT THE STORY IS ENJOYABLE!!)

Flickering streetlights make your path and you walk down the street just wanting to make it back home, its the last thing you wanna do in the day from your legs being tired, as you keep walking its a normal scene, trash in the alleyways, the sound of the club right down the road, and the little shops with their glowing signs but closed.

You take a sigh and keep walking until you see a shop catch the corner of your eye, its still open even though it’s a late night, strange. You turn around and look at the shop window looking at the little wooden statues and wood burnings of monsters, finally you look up and see the shop name.

“Horrors of the Forest?” Pretty strange name for a wood shop

“Well, I guess I got nothing else to do, and I got a few dollars in my wallet” You finally shrug and step into the store.

Walking into the store you hear a bell ring and little steps rushing towards the door. It’s a little Boston terrier, and it’s absolutely adorable, you bend down and pet the friendly little pup and holding the dogs name tag.

“Haha, well hey Betsy, your a cute little dog for such a mysterious shop”

The dog bumps their head into your leg and runs off into the rest of the store wanting you to follow them, you try and follow the dog down the long shelves.

Eventually you stop to look in awe at the little wood carvings, some just wood and some painted. You see one that looks exactly like Betsy and pick it up carefully looking at the details and paint strokes.

Suddenly you hear Betsy bark at you and start to follow the little dog again, a minute later you reach the end of the stop and see a little cashier stand but no one there.

You hear the sound of carving to the right of you, you turn your head and see a large intimidating man cutting a wood block, looking up and staring at you.

“OH JESUS!”

“Woah, woah easy there, you act like you seen a ghost”

The scary man gets up and walks towards you to hold out his hand

“The names Robert. Im the owner of this store here”

“It’s nice to meet you, Robert”

You shake his hand and he gives a tiny smile

“So you gonna buy anything?”

“Oh yeah! I thought this little wood sculpture was cute”

You pull the statue of Betsy out and Robert gives a big grin

“I see you have a liking to my old girl Betsy”

“Yeah she’s such a cute dog!”

“Well that wood sculpture won’t be as good as the real thing”

He puts Betsy in your face to show her off and she licks your face all over

“Ahhh!!”

Robert gives a hearty laugh and pats you on the shoulder, you tense up a little and blush from this scary but attractive man being so wholesome and touching you. Robert puts down Betsy and walks behind the counter only to look back at you

“I’ll get you a bag alright?”

“Okay” You smile and he gives you a smirk

You nervously wait, wishing you could stay at the store a bit longer, after thinking for a little you find a way to at least get a few more seconds with him.

Robert walks back in with a little bag and you hand over the wooden Betsy, as he bags it you quickly work up the confidence and ask him

“I’ve never seen you around here before, what made you wanna make this store?”

Robert opens his mouth but then pauses and gives a thoughtful look while holding the bag. He sets the bag down and looks at you with a frown

“I was in a dark place before I started this store, drinking till I couldn’t remember how I even got home, staying up and staring at the ceilings remembering all my regrets…”

You get worried not knowing how deep this conversation got

“Eventually I got some help and putting mostly a stop to my drinking and instead finding other things than unhealthy habits. Before I even started this store I used to carve wood in my free time and said ‘fuck it, why don’t I make it a job’, and thats exactly what I did”

He finally notices your facial expression and quickly switches the mood

“But anyways I had to do a bunch of boring paper work blah, blah, blah and here I am!”

He gives an awkward grin not knowing he was going to say that much. After a few seconds of silence you finally speak

“That’s amazing” Your voice genuine and joyful

“Really? Usually being an alcoholic doesn’t make a great story”

“But its the fact that you made it through, you made that first step and I know I’ve only met you for a few minutes but you look way better than you described”

Robert goes a little quiet before giving a tiny smile and locking eyes with you

“I guess I have improved huh?”

“Yeah”

You give a big smile back and the both of you kinda stare at each other before the two of you out snap out of it from Betsy giving a tiny bark

“Let me uh, ring that up for you” Robert exclaims

“Oh yeah for sure”

He rings you up and holds out his hand

“That’ll be…you know what, I’ll give you a discount cutie, that’s 3.20”

You immediately tense up as your face goes red from him calling you cutie. You pull out your cash and he hands you a small bag

“Let me walk you out”

He holds out his hand and you put yours in his, praying that your hand doesn’t get sweaty

“Thanks”

The both of you walk towards the entrance and he opens the door for you

“Well, I‘ll see you later” You awkwardly smile

“Same”

It goes quiet for a while and you almost walk away but suddenly Robert grabs your hand and pulls you to kiss your cheek

“Come back when you can, you might already be my favorite customer” he winks

You giggle and give a big, goofy grin

“Maybe when I walk back home again”

“That’d be great, I’ll see you then”

He gives a smirk and walks back into the store, you stare at the door knowing that walking back home will now be your new favorite activity.

[littlefroginthegarden]

Sold to Heartsteel 1/24

its a liiiittle bit late but whatever... im trying to write an advents calendar fic, theres some buffer but ill write during the month so im also open to input if you have any good ideas :)

hope you enjoy!

Tags: semi-ironic adaptation of 'sold to one direction' trope so yeah theres obv selling involved, angst, fluff, friendship, romance, maybe smut, mlm, transmasc character, some transphobia but mostly just parents being shit but nothing explicit or slurs or stuff, yeah i think thats about it, ill update this if anything changes xoxo

Part 1

Hi, my name is Hwei and I’m a misunderstood artist. Well, that’s not exactly true. My Parents hate my art and they think it’s just a waste of time. But under the name DemonBrush I’m known all around the world, my art account just recently hit two million followers. Which didn’t help me at all in my real life. I’ve been 18 now for a few months but my parents still act like I’m 16. I haven’t finished school yet and I can’t move out because my anxiety has made working impossible so far. My parents don’t allow me to get therapy or meds and I’m on their insurance so there’s nothing I can do. I sigh and try to think about something else but looking out my small window into the dark December morning isn’t helping. I go and pull the curtains, turn on my fairy lights and sit at my small desk that is crammed between the bed and the heavy wooden dresser. 

My reflection stares at me in the mirror, dark shadows under my amethyst eyes, a sign that I slept terribly, once again. The nightmares wouldn’t leave me alone. I sigh and start doing my makeup, nothing bright, just some smudged dark eyeshadow and black eyeliner on my waterline. My mom was probably gonna complain again but I don’t care. Last week she told me “People might think you’re gay!” Yeah, sure mom. I mean, why do you think I have all these Heartsteel posters hanging in my room? Because I love their one song so much? But when she says "gay" she means "lesbian". She would have an aneurysm if I tried to explain to her that I’m trans. And then she would probably throw me out. As if she could read my thoughts, I hear her shouting from downstairs “Come down immediately, Hwa! I can hear that you’re up.”

Ugh.

I throw on a black oversized hoodie that matches my skinny jeans (also black) and put my dark juniper green hair in a messy bun before I run downstairs as quick as I can. Better not make mom wait, she’s awful enough as is.

When I enter the kitchen, I almost bump into a large man in a suit that is standing next to my mom.

“Oh fuck, sorry!” I quickly say, getting a death stare from my mom but for once she doesn’t even berate me for swearing. She just looks between me and this dude, who was wearing dark sunglasses (in December!) for some fucking reason.

“Who is this?” I ask after a few moments of awkward silence.

“My name is Mr. Mundo, nice to meet you, Hwa.” His voice fits his impressive stature perfectly.

My mother steps forward and puts her hand on my shoulder, looking at me more seriously than I have ever seen her. “You know that we haven’t had the easiest time since dad lost his job. And since you refuse to work and pay your share, we had no other choice.”

“What do you mean? What choice?” I ask, slowly starting to panic.

“You’ll go with Mr. Mundo, he has a job for you where you’ll work for six months. You’ll get a room and food and the money goes to pay back all the debt you owe us.”

“Debt? What do I owe you?”

“Darling, you've been living and eating here for free for 18 years!”

“This is insane!” I yell at her. “You’re selling me? You are a monster!”

“Selling? It’s just temporary honey, and it’s a decent job, don’t make it sound worse than it is!”

“You can’t do that, I’m an adult, you can’t force me!” At this point I’m full on panicking. This can’t be happening, it should just be another nightmare. But I know it’s real. My nightmares are way different.

“You are right and nobody is forcing you. But think about this, it would give you the perfect opportunity to get some good job experiences while at the same time helping out your family! Also –” she adds “if you don’t take this offer then you’ll have to pack your bags, we can’t pay for you any longer.”

“If you stayed off the booze you could.” I press through my teeth, anger winning over panic.

She just ignores it and tells me “Please Honey, think about it. If you go with Mr. Mundo at least you’ll have a roof and food. We just want what’s best for you! You’ll thank us in a few years, mark my words.” With this she turns around and leaves me alone in the kitchen with this absolute hunk of a man.

“Go pack your stuff, we leave in an hour.” He hands me a big suitcase before sinking down onto the washed-out red leather couch in the living room, turning the TV on, unfazed by all of this as if it was his daily job. Which it probably was.

Still in shock, I go back to my room and just stare at the mirror for a solid minute. I still haven’t processed what just happened but I start throwing my most important stuff into the suitcase. I have a lot of clothes but most of them are from my parents and I hate wearing them. So it’s not too difficult to fit all my favorite pieces into the suitcase, some skinny jeans, flowy tops and hoodies and of course accessories, I can’t leave my choker collection here. Then I go to my bed and from under the mattress I pull my binder. I put it under all the other things so it won’t be visible if my mom checks my suitcase. She would freak out. I gather the rest of the stuff, making sure I have my laptop, makeup and favorite books, and check the time. I still have 15 minutes left but at this point, the quicker I’m gone the better. I grab the heavy suitcase and try to carry it down the stairs. Two steps in I nearly slip and the suitcase crashes onto the step with a loud Thud. Before I’m even up I can hear heavy steps on the stairs.

Mr. Mundo grabs the suitcase without saying a word and carries it down. I awkwardly follow him, hoping my mom is distracted and hasn’t noticed the commotion. For once I seem to be lucky, she’s nowhere to be seen. At the door, Mr. Mundo turns around and asks me “Are you sure that you have everything? You won’t be able to come back here anytime soon.”

“Yeah I’m not planning on doing that anyways. Can we go?” I ask impatiently.

He doesn’t answer and just opens the door and walks down the driveway towards the black car with darkened windows that is waiting at the end of it. He puts my suitcase in the back of it with ease and opens the door in the back, gesturing for me to get in. I hesitate for a second, but when I can hear the front door of the house open again, I quickly get in before I can hear whatever my mother wants to tell me. He slams the door behind me and gets into the driver’s seat, which I can’t even see from back here because there’s a divider between the front and the back of the car. Like in a limousine. Or a cop car. It feels more like the latter, like I’m a prisoner.

The car rumbles to life and even though the windows are heavily tinted, I can see the shadows of trees racing past us. Where are we going?

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Necklace

A/n: I knooooooow I said I'll post it tomorrow but I couldn't wait. Eren is really something so I hope you all enjoy this. Feel free to look ✨disrespectfully✨ I don't know if I'm embarrassed or not by this pls

Pairing: Eren/ Reader

Summary: sometimes the backseat of a car is the ideal place to find yourself in, so long as it's with Eren Yeager

Tags/ Warnings: NSFW, 18+, car sex

"Aw fuck!"

The drizzling cold enticed any of the skin that you had exposed, piercing through teeny molecules of flesh with what felt like severely dangerous needles. The loud, panting breaths that escaped both you and your partner merged in sheer fog, yet they clattered with the windows around you, staining the transparent material of glass like heavy curtains.

A mewl like sound reached your ears, ringing through your head for the upteenth time this evening only as if to reward you for your hard work.

"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!"

Eren's hand shot off of your head so fast that it felt like he had been burnt only to land to the window next to him. A big hand print was plastered onto the foggy window, letting a few droplets of moisture run onto the rubber frames of the car.

The kitten like lick you placed onto his head, picking up the much dreaded drop of precum sent his head colliding in such force with the head of the backseat that the hard foam inside its industrial cover bounced his head to the front.

A bold hand cupped onto his balls, kneading the smooth skin in a manner that was firm in all the right ways. Eren bit his lip at that, a low grunting moan leaving his throat after scratching onto his vocal chords. Leaning further down you accommodated more of him in your mouth, trapping his shaft on to your pallette with your tongue before letting him off with a loud pop, only to repeat the action again.

Eren couldn't help himself, his digits run through your hair, despite being frozen, locked into place, stroked your scalp tenderly as if he found it in him to move even an inch. But when his lower stomach was churching beyond a sane point he only found it fitting to gather all of his remaining energy to treat you with a kiss.

In a heartbeat, the flats of his palms came to your cheeks tagging towards his face until he managed to open his eyes into yours. Teal orbs that were so beautifully decorated with gray specs started back into yours, hazed with lust to the maximum. You spoke no word, instead, you plopped his member off your hot mouth with a loud pop, revealing your swollen, slick with his own lust lips to him before curling the line of your mouth into a small smirk.

The cold air licked over his shaft, sending shivers across his spine yet you acted as if you knew that it was bound to happen. Carefully you wrapped both of your hands around his member, giving firm squeezes across his length with your right while twirling your left onto his base, eager to trap as much blood as you could into his erection.

"Oh fuck that feels so fucking good."

"Mhm baby"

Eren clenched his teeth as he tugged on your face again, much more forcefully this time and you couldn't help but comply to his unspoken request.

Instantly, your lips were clashed onto his, your teeth colliding from the action but you chose to ignore it as you moved your mouth on his in your own accord. Eren pushed further into the kiss, his tongue darting out towards your bottom lip to order you to open your mouth for him, to which you simply complied without teasing back.

"Fuck!" Eren said for the thousandth time "you're killing me tonight princess!"

In response your thumb circled his slit, collecting all of his slick, gushing precum, playing with how tender or soft you pressed onto him with every circle.

His tongue danced inside your mouth again, exploring the salty spots of taste he had left behind, his nose sniffing as much air as he could managed to make his lungs function halfway decently.

"As much as I like kissing you," you said, pulling back from his lips before delving into them again "I want to fucking devour you right now."

The words spiralled into Eren's brain, sending a whirlpool of desire to his lower abdomen. With wide eyes he nodded, swallowing any remaining saliva into his mouth hard enough to fill the small space of his car with the sound.

"Look at you being such a whore for my cock." He whined.

In reality, he didn't know how he could find it in himself to stand tall to his usual nature of dominance, or rather, how he managed to put any effort into it. His hands eagerly let go of your face and rested between your messy (h/c) locks once again.

Hungrily, you returned to his member, running the flat of your tongue teasingly over his head before licking the rest of his underside. When Eren hissed, you rubbed his tip sloppily over your lips and gathered your sweet saliva in your mouth, deciding that it was time to warm him up once again.

The premative sound of his voice enticed you, causing a strangle series of bubbles to form into your abdomen at the thought of what affect you could have at him. You were so hitched over the fact that you could make him melt and mewl under your touch that it excited you to no end.

As your heart sped up though, your jaw remained restless, opening eagerly to accommodate him once again. Your tongue flattened as you grabbed the base of his member right under his balls, bobbing him slowly into your mouth.

Eren's eyes watered as he watched you, his teeth digging into the chapped flesh of his lips so hard that he thought he could taste the piercing iron taste of blood, but he paid it no mind; how could he? How could he, when he felt so hang up on your total conquer of his body.

After a few thrusts you popped him out of your mouth, a longing haze in your eyes as you fixated them into his. You felt him burning holes into your orbs, your heart spreading up at the sight of him unravelling before you in such way. Your legs almost rubbed together to relieve some of the tention you yourself were feeling.

Eren seemed to notice, despite the vertigo that was written into his rich orbs, because a hand came to slightly squeeze onto your panty clad buttock. Four long digits wiggled there way under the line of your underwear, working vigorously to simply shove the clothe to the side as you finally decided to take a smooth ball into your mouth, giving it a little suck and a simultaneous long lick.

"More" Eren panted. "Take the other one too, don't stop jerking me baby."

While you were pleased with the loud sound Eren let out you wanted to stay victorious over your affect on him before delving into your own pleasure, though Eren begged for the opposite. Finally a frozen finger that had found its way through your folds managed to launch onto your clit with the perfect amount of pressure, leaving you vulnerable to let out a mewl of satisfaction.

With much determination focused on the movements in your hands you began to stroke him in a swirling motion, once again flattening your tongue as you felt him thrusting his hips slightly into your open mouth.

Eren's hand wiggled further against you, pushing your bottom into the air as he laid his palm flat against you. The sweet friction left your hips shaking, urging you to rub yourself just to prompt the slightest increase of pressure from his hand. Eren eagerly gave into your neediness, delving his middle finger just in the opening of your entrance while his thumb came to press onto your clit steadily.

When it happened, you shrieked, your chest heaving as your knees dug into the wide seat of the car with force, immediately sending a smirk of triumph onto Eren's face. Your moans were muffled by his member, the deep grunt you had wanted to let out transforming into a pleasuring vibration that spread all over him.

"Don't stop baby, I'm gonna come!" Eren's breath hitched in his throat as he spoke, his voice barely audible as it struggled to reach your ears.

You pressed on him, skillfully maneuvering the screw of your hands on him as you rubbed just below his tip, sending numerous hisses to come out of his mouth. His grip on your hair tightened while his hand momentarily stopped it's torment over you. Happy that you realised he was focusing on his release, you bobbed your head faster on him, reaching out two fingers to press just underneath his balls.

The pressure on the spot made Eren moan and widen his eyes, an inaudible curse leaving his mouth as he pushed his hips towards you further. With fast movements you stroked him up and down, your own hand colliding with your mouth, merely spreading the slickness of your drool over his whole length.

"Keep going like that and I'm going to come in your mouth."

"Mhm" you chuckled.

"That's it" Eren squirmed "Im gonna-"

Eren's thighs turned into stone, his whole body frozen as a strong ribbon of his release exploded into your mouth in spurts. His breath paced, his heart heaped into his chest, his eyes dilated as his head started feeling lighter that usual.

You got off of him, bringing a soft hand on his thigh to brush upon his hot skin, tenderly caressing pools of skin here and there. You leaned in softly, placing mellow kisses on places where your fingers couldn't caress, eliciting wondrous sounds off of Eren.

Finally, your eyes were fixed on his again, gleaming in unshed specs tears. Even though Eren's eyebrows were raised in agonising pleasure they furrowed dangerously as he kept staring at you. You felt your stomach tighten upon his gaze, a new, intense shock of arousal washing through you.

A needy gaze was all he needed to send him growling like a wild animal against you. Eren pushed past your face, bringing his face impossibly close to your ear. His breath ghosted over the spot, sending ripping shivers on your nape as he dragged his tongue in the tormentous manner across your lobe.

Nevertheless, in a moment where you felt your heart start speaking again you brought your forehead to Eren's forearm, eager to finally allow yourself to catch your breath. Looking around, you noticed how that hand print on the window had been covered with fog once again, your hand giving a small squeeze on Eren's bicep as you rubbed your lips over his silky smooth skin. His thumb rubbed a single soothing circle on your back before giving your butt a small prompting slap and, for a moment, you were sure you heard him chuckle with his own antics

"Time to get your shirt off babe." You heard Eren call as you cooed into his arm further.

You simply smiled knowingly in response. This was definitely going to be a long night.

Taglist: @thethyri @ackermans-freedom-inc @melancholicmonologue @nobody-knows-anymore @levisbrat25 @berrijam

[itsnothesameasitwas]

hiii! this month I’ve read a lot of great fics, so I decided is time to start my monthly fic rec… that means I’ll be doing a short fic rec and recap every month with my favorite fics of the month

note: the fics I’ll be mentioning weren't necessarily posted recently

!!! - please be careful and read all the tags and/or warnings before start reading and left kudos and nice messages to the authors <33

❀ Divinely Blessed by thinlines @thinlinez  | 17k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

“I heard you, Ni. But what do you mean?”

“What do you mean what I mean?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved his alpha friend down onto a seat. “Did you mean you lick someone out or…?”

“Nah, mate! It was me! I got licked out!” Harry could only stare at Niall in horror.

Alpha Harry prides himself on having the bravest and most caring omega who might or might not just fulfill his sudden curiosity.

note: for some reason i don’t know i fell in love with the ABO and found this fic someway and WOW! it’s really fluffy and sweet and while i was reading all i could think about was “god! i really want someone who love me like Harry loves Lou and viceversa” and also has a great smut scene, funny and well writen (cliff ily babe)

❀ Promise me you won’t run away by thinlines | 23k | Explicit | ABO | Español

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

Or the Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

note: this fic is beautiful and really REALLY well written, i need to say i cried and im the most cold person in the world but this caught me and I LOVED IT! but also when i finished it i got mad because in the end notes was the spanish translation and i read it in english lmao; anyway i love it!!!... summing this up, the fic made me thought about that LOVE ALWAYS WIN <33

❀ Twist the knife by jishler @jishlerfics | 6k | Explicit | Angst / Smut | fic post

Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.

Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.

note: i definetely don’t read smut in purpose and the reason i’ve read this was because i love the moodboard BUT i need to thank the person who put it on my dash because i liked it so much!! was fun to read and the smut is pretty well written :))

❀  Hold you now by solvetheminourdreams @solvetheminourdreams | 131k | Angst with happy ending | fic post | playlist

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

note: at the end of the first chapter i was emotional, is the kind of fic that you feel every single emotion, the one you literally feel are part of it... it’s perfectly well written and please give it a chance and  check all the stef’s works because she’s a super talented writer... if i say something else i’ll probably do spoilers so, shut up ana.

❀ The money mark by brightgolden @brightgolden | 52k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago.

Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well.

OR

Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

note: THIS IS MY FAVORITE FIC OF THE YEAR. sorry, but this fic is super well written, is omega harry + alpha louis and find smth like this is almost impossible! but i loved the fact that harry could be an omega and a sugar baby but he’s independant and strong and wow! it’s amazing; everyone should read it because it’s really good!! (ps. louis is the alpha of my dreams, he’s a complete gentlemen)

❀ Sweet like candy by neodiamond @neondiamond | 4k | General Audiences | ABO | fic post

Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.

note: this is the cutest fluffy fic I have ever read! strangers to friends to lovers <333

❀ Literally making love by Brooklyn_babylon @twopoppies | 30k | Explicit | Robot/Human Relationship | fic post

Holding up one of the android's eyes to the workshop’s windows, he smiled as the light picked up the gold flecks in the pale green of his irises. Louis had always paid attention to even the tiniest details.

--

All Louis intended to do was rescue someone in need from loneliness. He had no idea it would be himself.

note: science + me = signal error BUT this fic. OMG. how to say this is one of the fics would be in my recap at the end of the year; i have read another fic by Gina and was really good but this is probably my favorite between both of them... all i know and want now is to create my perfect partner lmao. 

❀ I’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by pixies @tomlinbuns | 26k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

note: this one is simple to discribe... the best of the best. one of my favorites abo fics, funny, teasing and very romantic. i enjoyed so much read how these two guys fell in love with each other. god bless this fic <33

❀ Beautiful stranger by lovelarry10 @chloehl10 | 66k | Explicit | ABO / Mpreg | fic post

“Did you want to- oh. Uh, sorry, I-” Harry stuttered, licking his lips as he looked over Louis’ bare torso, not focusing on the ocean ahead of him. “You’re very distracting, Lou.”

“Trying to tell me you haven’t seen a topless Omega before?” Louis asked, walking back to his rucksack and grabbing a bottle of suncream out of it before returning to stand by Harry.

“Not one as stunning as you,” he thought he heard Harry mutter as he started to rub the cream into his shoulders.

*****

When Alpha Harry Styles attends the Gucci Cruise 2020 show, he knows what to expect: clothes, clutch bags, and a few too many pretentious people. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to run into an Omega who is more beautiful than anything on the runway.

note: this fic is from 2019 but who cares, i loved it so much and i want to thank/blame @justalarryblog​ because she unintentionally recommended it to me in her abo fic rec post and now i want someone like this harry in my life... is it too much to ask? because is one of the most beautiful abo fics i’ve read this month and wow. if you haven’t read it yet, what are you waiting for??

❀ Waiting on you by beckywritesthings @beckydoesthings  | 21k | Mature | Mpreg | fic post

“Do you want to touch?” Harry asks, taking one of his hands off to tangle with Louis’. His open invitation finally drags Louis’ attention away from his baby and up to his face, blue eyes wobbly with emotions. It’s clear that he’s too taken to really form words, so Harry takes the initiative to press their laced hands against his shirt fabric, warmth from the skin radiating through.

Louis pushes his shirt up to his chest, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to hold the fabric in place. His hands return to warm skin, palms even more scalding now that there’s nothing in between them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough for Harry’s heart to handle, Louis leans in, pressing his lips right above his belly button.

“Hi, baby,” he says, lips moving across his skin softly. “I’m your… I’m Louis.”

Or Harry is pregnant with a stranger’s baby and Louis doesn’t know. It’s a minor detail that Harry’s both living with Louis and in love with him. No big deal.

note: this fic is really new, someone reblogged the fic post and when i saw it first i was like ‘huh?’ and then suddendly (in less than a minute) decided it was the next thing i’ll be reading and now i’m completely in love with it. Lou i need to say you’re the kind of guy everyone wants in their life <3 

-----------

❀ all the love, ana. xx

[silversatoru]

hi!! me again, saw that you want some bnha requests and hoo boy do i fuckin got one for ya

im a hardcore member of the fuck bakugo 🖕🏼 squad but i also wanna fuck bakugo ya know?

therefore i would like to request a smut fic where bakugo is so painfully angry at the fact that he has a crush on the reader that he ends up getting caught stealing their panties and chaos ensues 😌

anyway love you bye ❤️

compulsion

touch-starved bakugou katsuki x f!reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, oral sex (male receiving), mild obsession, dom?reader, characters aged up

w/c: 1.9k

katsuki bakugo hates a lot things.

he hates hero training, he hates his annoying classmates, and he hates the fact that it rained today. he hates living in the UA dorms and he fucking hates the overly salted bowl of ramen he was forcing down his throat right now.

bakugo katsuki hates almost everything, but he doesn’t hate you — and he hates that doesn’t.

having a distaste for the world made things easier, because if he always assumed the worse than he’d never be disappointed. he’d gotten pretty far with that logic — that was up until you waltzed into his life and fucked it all up, sending his logic hurling out the window.

when he looked at you he didn’t feel the same hate that he felt for the world around him — in fact when he looked at you he felt a disgusting urge of optimism. he liked the way your hair fell around your shoulders, the way your lips curled when you smiled, and the way your skirt rode up your thighs. he didn’t hate anything about you and that’s what he hated most.

see ya later, katsuki! you’d called to him after hero training today, your round glossy lips pronouncing his name in a way that made his heart flicker and his blood boil over. why did everything about you have to be so fucking perfect? he couldn’t find a single flaw on your annoyingly pristine body no matter how hard he searched for one.

your voice consumed his mind — everything you said to him today replaying on repeat at the center stage of his brain:

come eat lunch with us, katsuki!

hey katsuki, did you finish the math homework? number seven makes like- no fucking sense.

have you seen those chips i like, katsuki? i swear if denki ate them all again i’m gonna kill him

your voice was precious, a terribly sensual melody in his sullen ears. and the way you clung to the ends of your words for just a little too long was repulsively adorable too.

katsuki needed something, anything, to get you off his mind. sitting here and daydreaming about you was making him irate with himself — forcing intrusively irrational thoughts through his thick head. something, anything, he needed to stop thinking about you.

he tossed what was left of his shitty ramen into the trash can and exited the kitchen. the common area was filled with students right now, you included, and it was much too crowded and annoying for his liking. you were sitting with hanta, laughing at some shitty fucking joke he was spouting off.

not that he enjoyed watching that lanky scotch-tape dispenser flirt with you — but it was keeping you busy. your dorm room would be empty right now, wouldn’t it?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

katsuki’s not sure how he ended up here, seething with anger and digging fervently through your drawer of panties. surely you wouldn’t mind if he took just one pair, right? you have to understand that he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t absolutely need them. he wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t make him so fucking angry — this is your fault, not his. 

he lifted the lacy material closer to his face for further inspection, unable to prevent his mind from wandering to how it would look wrapped around your body. fuck, they even smelled good — not that he was smelling them intentionally or anything, don't get the wrong idea. he just so happened to get close enough that the soft aroma of cherry blossom fabric softener wafted into his nostrils.

simmering with anger and foggy with unwanted lust, katsuki pocketed the panties for later and turned back towards the door — the same door that you were now standing in front of with immense confusion in your eyes. fuck. 

“uh... hey katsuki, whatcha doin?” you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, cocking your head to the side. 

“i- uh- it’s fucking none of your business,” he snarled at you, face flushing as he tried to figure out how long you’ve been standing there and how much you saw.

“you’re in my room dude, it’s totally my business,” you raised an eyebrow at him, “and that pair of panties you took is one of my favorites, maybe you could pocket one of the uglier pairs?”

“god, fucking dumbass, this is your fault! i wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t so fucking infuriating,” his face was so angry and flushed you could have sworn there was steam sizzling off his skin.

“me? it’s my fault you’re standing in my room with a pair of my underwear in your pocket and an obvious boner in your pants?”

katsuki grimaced, faltering for just a second as he awkwardly shifted his sweatshirt and pulled it down to cover his swollen erection, “yeah shithead, that’s what i just said. weren’t you fucking listening?”

“this is horribly desperate, katsuki, you could have just asked. i’m more than willing to help you out with this,” you stepped forward and began to shorten the distance between the two of you.

“willing to help me? are you insane? i don’t need your fucking help!” he tried to retaliate, but you were already inches from him, reaching down and dragging a hard palm over the lump in his jeans.

“quit screaming like a lunatic and let me help you, i know this is what you think about,” you pressed harder and gave him an icy stare, the boy using everything in his power not to crumble under your touch.

he’d never been touched like this by anyone, and he was so caught off guard by your sudden movements that he simply stared back at you, frozen in place. no arguments, no insults, no deflective blaming — his brain could barely compute his own name now that your hand was prodding at his bulge.

“that’s what i thought,” you cracked a small smile, “poor katsuki, always pushing everyone away and never getting any action. come sit down”.

katsuki failed to wrap his brain around the current events, wondering how his failed attempt at stealing a pair of panties had led to him sitting on the edge of your bed while you stripped him of his trousers. you were sinking to your knees now, head perfectly level with his cock that was standing flush against his abdomen.

he almost flinched when you reached out and brushed your delicate fingers over the red, swollen head of his dick. his cheeks were flushed with a deep red, and he wanted nothing more than to yell you, to tell you how much of a freak you were. but he didn’t, because as much as he hated to admit it, your touch was the best thing he’d ever felt.

your fingers were wrapped around his shaft now, pumping slow strokes as you warmed him up. he hissed and squirmed under your brand new touch — eyes squeezing shut and hands grabbing fistfuls of your comforter. katsuki had touched himself plenty of times, most of them while thinking of you, but your hand felt so much better than his ever did.

“you’ve never been touched like this, have you?” you pouted up at him, your fingers squeezing a little tighter and pumping a little faster, “poor baby”.

“i- fuck- ah,” he choked out a pitiful cluster of sounds that didn’t actually form any words but still gave you the answer to your question.

you were terribly amused, the typically angry boy was a twitching mess under your touch and you’d barely even started yet. you could only imagine how quickly he’d melt when your lips were around his cock — you were dying to find out.

you leaned forward and began slowly flicking your tongue over the puffy tip, still pumping the shaft with one of your hands. katsuki let out strings of sounds that could only be described as mewls and whimpers, his thighs shaking and his knuckles turning white. poor poor baby, you continued to think, i’m gonna make you feel better than you ever have before.

your head dipped low, the first few inches of his cock sliding across your tongue and into the back of your mouth. the blonde boy whined and bucked his hips, his eyes shooting open at the sudden burst of hot, wet pleasure.

“hng- fuck- fucking sh-shit,” his curses came out as pitiful gasps for air as he stared down at you with wide eyes.

you gradually took more and more of his length into the depths of your throat — his extensive length, by the way. for someone so blessed with such a big, pretty cock, you couldn’t believe he didn’t put it to use more often.

katsuki was cussing you out like it was his job, but each word was accompanied by a gasp or a humiliating whimper. he was so fucking embarrassed, but he felt much too good to care right now. your wet, sticky mouth was enveloping his cock in the most perfect way, jolts of euphoria spiking through his veins and fogging his head.

there was a pressure quickly building in his stomach, a tight wam feeling that signified he was going to come all too soon. but of course you expected this — honestly he’d lasted a few minutes longer than you thought he would.

when his orgasm finally racked through him, his entire body twitched and convulsed, his hips bucking wildly as strings of white liquid sprung from his cock and lined the walls of your tight throat. you milked every drop of cum from him, swallowing it down and then pulling your head back. as much as you wanted to push him and overstimulate him you decided to play nice for his first time.

“so good, katsuki. did you like that?”

his shoulders caved in and his head hung low as he finally came down from his high — the realization of all of the transpiring events finally catching up to him. he mumbled the quietest: yeah, it felt fucking good in response to your question, but refused to meet your eyes.

“we could do this more often, what you think?” you reached up and placed your hand under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“fuck- fine, yeah whatever, but don’t fucking tell anyone about this,” he growled, his angry eyes and twisted eyebrows finally meeting yours.

“of course,” you smiled, standing and tossing him his pants to put back on, “i just came here to grab a sweatshirt, so i better go before anyone comes looking for me. i’ll come find you later though, promise”.

and with that you were walking through the door, wiping your sticky lips on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and heading for the elevators. katsuki sat on the edge of your bed for a few minutes longer, mind blown by the curves of your mouth and the skill of your tongue.

katsuki didn’t hate you before, and he really doesn’t hate you now, but he’s coming to terms with it this time. letting his walls down for you doesn’t sound all that bad if it means you’ll keep making him feel like this.

[antihero-writings]

Before it Kills You Too (Ch2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3)

Fandom: Lore Olympus

Chapter Summary: When Hera gets into a car accident after a fight, Zeus has a moment to ruminate on their relationship. Written using the song “Wait” by Maroon 5 as a prompt.

Character Focus: Zeus

Please note!! This is the previous Ch2 snippets I posted + a new snippet (the new snippet starts with “I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”)

I’ve been having trouble with this chapter for a very long time, so I’ve decided to post it snippet-by-snippet, because that seems like the only way I’ll successfully finish this fic. 

While this should be as close to the final version as it can be, anything in this snippet is subject to change when the full chapter comes out. (And, hey, to that end, if there’s anything you think needs to be edited here, please kindly let me know!!)

Im really excited about this snippet!! Definitely one of my favorite parts of the chapter!!

Thanks again SO much to those who support this fic and want to read more!! The fact that you want to read more really does mean the world to me!! I appreciate your kind comments so much!!

I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I’m not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

Tagging some folks who’ve shown interest!! @jayyy007 @autumnmoon21 @sunsetsofanemoia, @lynnie51 @what-the-fuckaroni @masquejj

And please do let me know if you’d like me to add you to a taglist for this fic, or message you when new snippets/the next chapter come/s out!!

Chapter 2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3:

Hera was standing in the crowded meadow, surrounded by her friends, laughing that girly little giggle full of sunshine that just about made Zeus’ heart ooze in a puddle out of his chest.

Her blue dress made her eyes look like two shimmering sapphires.

“Have I seen her in a dress that color?” Zeus inquired excitedly from behind the bushes.

“How can we know what you’ve seen?” Aidoneus muttered. “With you creeping around, you might have seen her naked for all we know.”

Zeus punched him in the arm, (lightly).

“I don’t think she’s worn a dress that color!” Posiedon bubbled.

“Thank you, Posiedon. At least someone can answer a question.”

“I think she looks like the sea on summer day.” He put his hands on his face, them sliding slowly.

Zeus eyed him. “Alright, keep it in your toga, Little Green Man.”

“Should we really be here?” Aidoneus muttered. “We weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on,” Zeus stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Who wouldn’t want to see the King of the gods here?”

Poseidon grinned and stood up behind his brother. “No one!”

“Hestia, Demeter… assorted sane people.” Hades muttered as he stood to follow.

“If that’s sanity I’m glad I’m insane.” Zeus trilled as he strutted up to the entrance.

A cute pink nymph—(rather well endowed in the chestal region—not that he noticed!)—greeted them at the archway.

“Oh! Zeus!” She flushed and bowed. “It’s an honor. Welcome!”

“Why it’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” He kissed her hand, and she giggled. “See?” he turned to his brothers. “They’re delighted to have us.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Hades muttered.

Hera was closer now; she smelled like summer, and she looked like it too. Poseidon was right about the ocean thing; she practically shimmered as she spoke with her friends.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Wait—!” Hades was soon swallowed by the crowd.

Zeus scooched behind her at lightning speed. One by one her friends began to take notice, their eyes widening.

Hera took a step back and would have tripped in surprise if he hadn’t caught her.

“Careful there, you might fall, Birthday Girl.”

“Oh, Zeus!” She looked up at him, the back of her head hitting his chest, “hi!”

That golden smile.

“I made you something!” As she spun to face him, he produced a little carving of a bird from his pocket. (And, no, he didn’t make it).

“Oh!” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gently taking it from him, “It’s beautiful!”

All his responsibilities and stresses melted away with the sight of that smile, and he forgot there was anyone else at the party…in the world.

(…He wished he saw that smile anymore.)

Zeus’ chair was spinning empty at his desk before his assistant could say another word—

And Olympus wept, distant peals of thunder rending the sky into pieces.

Lightning crackled and cackled through his hair, creating violet tracks through the air, as Zeus sped through the sky.

It was freezing, and people were staring, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to his wife.

“My you look stunning.” Zeus sidled up behind his wife, running his fingers gently along her arm. “Is that a new dress?”

“New as that girlfriend of yours.” Hera grunted.

His eyes widened with shock, his voice with an indignant undertone to it. “Is something wrong?”

She paused a moment. He could see words fluttering behind her lips—(like they did so often, too often)—the words Yes you did something wrong, how can you not know?

He knew she wouldn’t believe him when he said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You weren’t invited,” she said softly.

“Not invited? Me?” He put his hand to his chest, like the thought of him ever not being welcome to somewhere was absurd. “To what?”

“The party, you nitwit!” She whirled around, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. “You just came barging in like you owned the place!”

“Well…to be fair—”

He stopped short at the look in her eyes, like two blue-hot flames.

He knew it was taking her a great amount of effort not to slap him.

“Do you know how long I’d been preparing for that?! How long it took me to get everything just right? I told you, but you never even listened, did you? And then you just barged right in!”

“Why are you so upset? What’s so important about a party?!”

“They were my friends.” Her gaze softened, and her tone became more serious. “They were—” Until she cut herself off, and her expression hardened as she whirled around, her hair billowing behind her.

“Bunny, wait!” His tone was softer too.

He wished she’d just turn around. That he could say sorry.

Was it really so hard? He should have started there.

Had he ever apologized for that?

He was always doing that; barging in where he wasn’t welcome. The world was his, yes but…he had to concede there were some parts of it he ought not just barge in on.

When he burst into the hospital, however, they wouldn’t dare tell him he wasn’t invited, wouldn’t dare tell him he couldn’t see her.

“Where. is my. wife?” Lightning slammed into a lamppost just outside the front door, shattering its glass box, and making the light spark, the rain pounding at the window like rabid dogs.

The desk clerk looked like she was about to pee out of sheer fear.

“Sh-sh-she’s not out of surgery yet, your majesty...I understand you want to see her, but I can’t let you…until-until they’re finished.” She was practically vibrating. “I assure you the moment she gets out, we’ll notify you.”

Surgery? He wanted to demand. She’s the queen of the gods, how could she be in surgery?

Electricity sparked in his eyes, trailing throughout his hair. He could say I demand you let me see her. He could say I don’t care! She’s my wife, and I’m not waiting! She’s fine! She’s the queen—she’s my queen—she won’t be hurt from a little car accident!

But there were some places he ought not just barge in on… and the surgeons room was probably one of them.

The lightning let out a sighing crackle, before he closed his eyes, his hair falling back upon his shoulders. It was then that he noticed he was dripping wet from head to toe. He sighed himself before muttering something like a garbled “I understand, thank you.” And turning to sit in the lobby. Behind him the desk clerk’s coworker held her to keep her from fainting.

He snapped his fingers, drying off, so as not to get their nice, barf-colored carpet all wet. Once he sat down in a chair—(the cushions didn’t have any cush to them)—a kid in the chair across from him scooched away.

He could have that kid lightly charred if he wanted.

Instead he settled for a nice glare, and reached over to pick up last month’s—(or maybe it was a few months ago)—issue of  “Goddess weekly” listening to the rain die down to a drum.

The same old gossip. Usually if he picked one of these up he’d check for any news he ought to be aware of. You know, as the king. Not to mention the ladies weren’t unappealing. Now he flicked through without seeing any of it.

Speaking of ladies, there was a nymph sitting across the room from him, her skin blue, her ears down, and a cute little half smile. She surely wasn’t in here for anything serious. She kept glancing from her own magazine to him—but not in a nervous way. If he wasn’t mistaken, she wouldn’t be opposed to a session of hide-the-German-sausage.

If he wanted he could take her there in a darkened closet in the hallway. It wouldn’t take long—(if it didn’t need to…or it could take all night). That would be a nice way to relieve the stress bubbling in his body.

—Someone was laying next to him, her skin smooth, practically glowing. There was rather a lot of it exposed.

She turned over, her eyes fluttering open, a small smile creasing her features as she rolled onto his chest, tickling his chin with her fingers.

“I had a wonderful time,” she twittered, and he practically purred, staring into those big blue eyes, glittering like river stones.

He pushed her green hair behind her ear.

“Is that all? I’d like to think a night with the King of the gods would be more than merely ‘wonderful.’”

She giggled. “No no, it was much more than wonderful! It was spectacular! Mind-blowing!” She threw her arms in the air.

“That’s more like it.” He grinned—

When was that again? Two years ago, or two days ago?

It could have been either.

Had he apologized for that?

Would it have mattered if he had? Would she have forgiven him? Would he have stopped?—

Bile rose in his throat, and he dove his nose so hard into the magazine he almost smacked himself with it.

His wife was bruised and bleeding, and potentially worse in a nearby room, at the mercy of some quack holding a scalpel and a few comforting words…and here he was thinking of betraying her for the…

How many times had it been now?

He threw the magazine back on the table and sank in the chair till his head was nearly on the bottom cushion, his lip flapping his he blew out a breath, making his hair fly up a little.

The kid and his mom got called, and seemed glad of a reason to leave.

After a healthy dose of moping he pulled out his phone. After checking fatesbook and playing a few games he decided it was time to open his messages.

He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted some sensible and non-conjugal company.

He scrolled through and clicked on a name.

A number of old conversations sprinkled the page, often detailing Zeus asking about getting together and the correspondent saying they were busy.

He thought a moment about what to say—(a rare occurrence for him)—before deciding any vague requests would probably get ignored, so he simply decided the boldfaced truth:

Hera’s been in a car accident. She’s in surgery.

“WHAT?!” The word was spoken aloud—and very loudly at that.

Hades was standing in front of him. If the king being here wasn’t enough reason for weird looks, this outburst had sent more than a few eyes their way.

Zeus did a finger wave at the nymph, before he grabbed his brother’s arm, whisking him off to a less crowded hallway.

The only thing here was a vending machine, and a few overly picturesque pictures of trees.

“How did this happen?!”  Hades shout-whispered.

“I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”

“I could have gathered that myself, thank you very much!” Hades was clearly trying not to shout. “What was she doing?! Where was she going?!”

Zeus rolled folded his arms. “Does it matter?”

“Sure it matters! Well at least it’d be good to know!”

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! What do you mean you don’t know?! She’s your wife—!”

“I said I don’t know!” he kicked the vending machine.

The air shattered and reformed itself.

Zeus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice softening. “I…I don’t know.”

Two sides of him warred. One wanted to shout at Hades. He expected him to know where she was at all times? Oh yeah, that would go over well with her. What kind of helicopter husband would he be then?

And yet, it felt wrong for him not to know. Like some sort of failure. She was his wife. Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he have asked? Shouldn’t he care?

Hades’ gaze softened.

“I upset her.” Zeus murmured. “We got into a fight.”

Hades leaned against the wall. He was probably resisting the urge to say he could have gathered that too.

Zeus leaned his head forward onto the glass of the vending machine, his hair falling to the side, his reflection vaguely eyeing him.

“We got into a fight and she…I hadn’t even realized she went for a drive.” He paused, observing the chocolate and chips sitting in neat rows in the machine. “Do you think she liked Twyx?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think she liked Twyx?”

Hades pondered it a moment. “Probably. She tends to like things with caramel in them.”

Zeus smiled wryly. “See? I didn’t even know that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to ask her all your burning questions about her favorite candy flavors very soon.”

“That’s not the point.” Zeus whispered.

Zeus was feeling a little off-kilter.

He nearly fell into a three-thousand drachma vase.

Okay, make that a lot.

The sound of heels on the staircase. The white one they’d painted for that one event…what had they been celebrating again?

His hazy gaze made her glitter even more than usual.

“Have I ever told you that you’re like the sea on a summer’s day?” Zeus’ voice came out blurry. He put his hand in his hair, trying to look sexy, you know, like the kind of guy you’d wanna forgive.

This was met by her hair slapping him in the face as she walked by him. She paused a few steps below him, turning.

“Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

“I may have had one—“ He hiccuped, “or five, appletinis.”

“And this is what? An intelligent conversation you’re trying to have?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“Actually,” he held up a finger. The action made him feel off-balance so he leaned against the railing, trying to land in a sexy pose. “There is something I wanted to say.”

“You’re barely coherent when you’re sober, at least spare me until then.”

He rolled his eyes—(and made himself feel even dizzier).

She turned to go back up the stairs.

“Wait!” He shouted.

She stopped, looked over her shoulder, eyes narrow as a cat’s. “What?”

“I-hic!” He covered his mouth as if embarrassed. Clearly emotion was dangerous. “I wasn’t trying to get wasted! I just-hic!-needed more than three or four to say this.”

“Oh yeah? Spit it out Grape Sorbet.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I’m…” he held on to the railing for support. “I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You…You were right.” He took a step closer.

“About what?” Her breath bated.

“I just…I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t…” He looked away. “I couldn’t tell you sober.”

“About what?” The words had a rough edge to them, her chest heaving with breath.

Ah. She knew. She knew what he was going to say, even before he said it.

“I…I did cheat on you.”

“Wh-What?” Her eyes tinted red…but there was so much hurt in the word.

Fear and shame rose in tandem like ocean waves, threatening to bowl him over, and he realized that the truth wasn’t going to help at all. But all he could do was let it pour out of him.

“You-hic-You asked if I was with-hic—”

“Stop.” She covered her mouth as if to keep the worst words from spilling out, tears welling in her eyes.

“But I—”

“I said stop!” Her voice rang through the room like something shattering.

Maybe something was.

Her heels against the stairs, fast and sharp, and away.

“Wait!”

Turn around please, let me apologize, let me explain, I won’t do it again.

He threw up in the vase.

“Daddy? What was that all about?” The small voice made his blood run cold. “What did you cheat at? Were you playing a game?”

Zeus turned, horrified, to see Ares, hiding behind a crack in the door.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her.” He breathed. “It was stupid, really.”

Hades put a dollar in the vending machine and punched in a number.

“People say all kinds of things when they’re angry. Doesn’t mean you’re bad, just means you’re people. Which…” Hades looked him up and down, adding under his breath, “I wonder about sometimes.”

“...You must think I’m a terrible husband.”

Hades grabbed two chocolate bars and handed one to his brother.

“I think you need something sweet, maybe a little hydration, and some rest.”

Zeus unwrapped the bar and took a bite, not really tasting anything.

After a moment Hades sighed.

“It’s not so simple as that.” Hades said between bites, “I don’t necessarily think there’s such a thing as a ‘terrible husband’ or ‘the best husband.’ I…I don’t even think there’s such a thing as good and bad people. There’s just…people. There’s just husbands. But there are rules that come with being a person, and/or being a husband and…” he paused, trying to choose his words carefully, “you don’t always follow those rules.”

Zeus fell back against the wall, looking at the floor, denials dying in his throat.

It was raining.

No, actually it was pouring. And thundering. The lightning was like cracks in a collapsing sky, and Zeus’s gut was twisting like the snakes on the head of a gorgon.

“What? You-you think you can just undo this?!” Hera’s words were biting. “It’s done!” Her laugh was wry and sardonic, like an ache in her throat, red tainting the blue of her eyes. “You can’t just fix something like that! Once someone cheats at the game no one else just keeps playing!”

“It was a mistake! One stupid night!”

“One stupid night, huh?! Then how do you explain this?!” She held up his phone. The pictures. The…Oh Gaia.

The snakes in his gut bit down, and he bit his lip looking away. He hadn’t known she knew about that.

“You’ve got it all wrong! That was just—!”

“I thought you were different!” She bit off his excuse, the anger cracked, and the pain was bleeding through, and he wasn’t the only one making it rain: A tear fell down her face, then another, her mascara running black along her cheeks. “You made me smile, you made me laugh! You saved your brothers from your father. And I thought we could make a kingdom—a world—together!” She shook her head, grimacing, trying and failing to keep more tears from falling. “I thought we could be something!”

“We are! We have! I just made a mistake! I—!”

“No, Zeus.” There was a finality to her tone.

Tears streamed down her face now. He hated it when she cried. She didn’t do it often, and whenever she did he was ready to smite whoever hurt her but…he’d hurt her worst of all.

“I thought you were different. But you’re—“ the words were like an antique vase, riddled with cracks. “You’re just another bad guy.” She punched him in the arm, and the vase broke, the defiance into pain. She punched him in the arm…but it was weak and far too soft, and that’s how he knew she was really hurt; she could bring the sky down on him if she wanted.

She looked down at her hand, twisting her wedding ring with a finger.

“I’m staying with a friend tonight.”

Her wedding ring tinkled on the floor.

As she turned and walked away the word rang out like he was hoping his voice alone could rewrite his sins and bring her back:

“Wait!”

She didn’t stop, didn’t turn, didn’t make any indication she’d even heard him.

“Please…Please just wait.” These were soft.

He fell to his knees on the marble, scooping up her wedding ring and enclosing it in his fingers, holding it to his forehead, and trying not to bring the sky down upon himself.

He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her sad. But this? Seeing her break for him…was so much worse.

It reminded him too much of another time. Of a scar on her stomach. How she broke herself just to be his.

—(And he wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it would have been better if he had been the one to break.)—

“There you are!” Said a voice. “You can come see her now,”—a cleared throat— “your Majesty.”

*

Notes: Aright, so this chapter had a few things I was unsure about I thought I’d ask about here!

1. Does anyone have any other clever play-on-words for candy brands? I feel like Zeus would know that she likes caramel in general, so it’d make more sense if Hades said “she likes [X similar candy] so she’d probably like Twyx.” But Twyx is all my brain came up with and I don’t even know that it’s all that good XD

2. I’m aware that the gods don’t call each other “people” they call each other “beings.” However, Hades’ lines don’t have as much impact with “beings.” Did the fact that I used “people” stick out too much? Should I change it to “beings”?

3. I know Ancient Greek wedding ceremonies are different from ours, and they might not even have wedding rings. But that image was so impactful for me I decided to use it. Should I remove it? Or did you find it impactful?

Please let me know if there’s anything you felt was inaccurate to their characters!!

Thanks so much for reading!! 💕💕

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

72 Hours In Montreal [Part I]

A/N: Many moons ago, the incomparably lovely @im-an-adult-ish​ pitched a Montreal concert fic idea (jokingly, I think), and quite a few of my followers fell in love with it. They were even kind enough to vote on which Queen member should be the love interest, and there was a clear winner: John! 

I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and at last, here is the first of three chapters of this new mini-fic. I’m going to tag some of my past readers, but I WILL NOT TAG YOU AGAIN unless you ask me to. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. 💜

Series Summary: John Deacon is a rock star at a crossroads. Y/N is a world-weary employee at a Yankee Candle shop. They’ll only ever have three short days in Montreal together...or will they??

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (not graphic). 

Word Count: 6.8k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @escabell​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​ @deacyblues​ @tensecondvacation​ @brianssixpence​ @some-major-ishues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @youngpastafanmug​ @simonedk​ @rhapsodyrecs​ ​​​ @joemazzmatazz​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​​ @namelesslosers​​ @inthegardensofourminds​​ @sleepretreat​​ @hardyshoe​​​ @sevenseasofcats​​ @jennyggggrrr​​ @madeinheavxn​​ @whatgoeson-itslate​​​ @herewegoagainniall​​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​​ @pomjompish​​ @allauraleigh​​  @bluutac​​ @johndeaconshands​​ 

The obnoxious British men are still laughing. The one with the mustache, suspenders, and illogically tight red leather pants is standing on the tiptoes of his equally red Adidas shoes to paw candles off the top shelf so he can sniff them. The blond one has no less than eight jars balanced precariously in his wiry arms. Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing is billowing through the shop speakers.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna break something,” you moan in a whisper, covering your eyes but peeking through your fingers. Your apron is suddenly too tight around your waist; your cheeks are roaring with blood as you envision the inevitable confrontation: Sir, unfortunately you ruined some of our giant tacky overpriced candles and so now you have to pay for them. So sorry. Paper or plastic? We take Mastercard.

“Who?” Kevin asks. He’s holding a broom in one pudgy, pinkish hand and a dustpan in the other. He has surrendered.

“That one. Suspenders and moustache guy. Red shoes guy. Dorothy without Toto.”

Kevin cracks a smile. “That is frighteningly accurate. He is rather whimsical, isn’t he? Maybe he’ll click his heels and disappear back to London or wherever.”

“We aren’t in Kansas anymore,” you mutter in commiseration. Actually, to be perfectly literal, you’ve never been to Kansas in your life.

“Wait, I think I might have met that guy before somewhere.” Kevin squints with great concentration. “He looks oddly familiar…”

“Hm.” You check your eyeliner wings in your reflection in the cash register screen. From what you can tell, they’re every bit as tragically asymmetrical as you remembered. Spectacular.

“Staring won’t make it better,” Kevin notes, very unhelpfully.

“I know,” you reply, miserable, toying with your bangs so you can hide behind them.

“How does that even happen? The right one is practically a 90-degree angle. The left one looks like you drew it on with a Sharpie.”

You groan. “I’ll try to scrub them off during my break.”

“If you’re not too busy helping me sweep glass off the floor, sure,” Kevin says. “I told you, I took an electrical engineering class as an elective once. I could totally take a look at your bathroom.”

“I thought you said you failed that class.”

“No, I said I got a D in that class. Ds aren’t failing.”

“Well now you’ve convinced me.” You scrutinize your reflection again, frowning. You rent a rather dilapidated one-bedroom apartment above a bakery just a few blocks from the Yankee Candle shop. The apartment always smells like powdered sugar and baking bread, which you like. What you don’t like is everything else about it: the peeling paint, the low water pressure, the windows that you can’t wrestle open, the occasional mice, the shoddy electrical wiring. On any given day, there’s an approximately 27% chance that the bathroom light won’t turn on when you flip the switch. This morning you had been on the losing side of those odds, and with the only mirror in the apartment being the one mounted over the sink—and the overcast November skies outside offering painfully little natural light—you had haphazardly guesstimated your way through your makeup routine before dashing off to work. Your guesstimation skills, apparently, are not all that great.

“If he’s The Wizard of Oz...” Kevin points his broom handle from the snickering moustached man to the gangly, poodle-haired one who has been trying to decide between two candles—Christmas Cookie and Cinnamon Stick—for twelve uninterrupted minutes. He’s wearing a parka spotted with patches: a NASA emblem, a soaring rocket, a smiling green extraterrestrial face, Saturn and its rings. “That guy’s gotta be Star Wars.”

“Or Alien,” you suggest, clutching your chest and pretending to die melodramatically.

Kevin laughs. “2001: A Space Odyssey.”

“Close Encounters of The Third Kind.”

“What about that one?” Kevin nods to the guy who has large blue eyes and bleach-blond, fried tufts of hair sticking out in every direction and a grin that is simultaneously childish and foxlike. Under Pressure comes on the shop speakers, and the British men all start cheering and high-fiving each other, leaving their candles momentarily tucked under their arms or quivering precariously on the edges of wooden display tables. You are entirely mystified. “God, he’s gorgeous.”

“Bye Bye Birdie,” you decide. “Beautiful. Charming. Beloved by all. Perhaps a little dangerous. I can picture teenage girls sobbing themselves to sleep as he gallantly marches off to war.”

“You think he’s gay?” Kevin asks hopefully.

“I don’t think he’s dressed well enough for that.” The blond man is wearing a shapeless, polka-dotted sweater that has ‘NIVEA’ spelled across the front, for reasons that are difficult to fathom.

Kevin sighs, crestfallen. He suffered a nasty breakup with his boyfriend Patrick two weeks ago, and is enthusiastically on the hunt for a rebound to distract him. “You’re probably right. Okay, last but not least.” Kevin aims his broom handle at the fourth and final British stranger. “What shall we call him?”

You consider the man who has wandered away from the others. He’s wearing Levi’s, a black bomber jacket, aviator sunglasses, a mop of unwrangled auburn hair, thoughtful lines that break around the corners of his hidden eyes. He is browsing unhurriedly, perhaps even distractedly, through the fruit-scented candles. He picks up a jar of Macintosh Apple, sniffs a few times, then sets it back down precisely where he found it. He even spins the jar so it’s label-side-facing-outwards again. You warm to him immediately.  

“One of the James Bond movies?” Kevin offers. “He seems…enigmatic somehow. Esoteric. Yet still clearly leading man material.”

“Casablanca,” you say, not tearing your gaze from the stranger. “I can imagine him waving off some old flame on a foggy, night-draped airport runway, breaking hearts with sparse words of wisdom. Can’t you?”

“Oh, that’s exactly right!” Kevin sighs again, dreamily, yearningly. And whether he’s yearning for his ex-boyfriend Patrick or Bye Bye Birdie a.k.a. NIVEA-sweater man or passion or sex or love or maybe just the ineffable high that accompanies the beginnings of things, you couldn’t say.

You peer at your reflection in the cash register screen once again, feeling more self-conscious than ever. “Maybe if I—”

“Freddie!” Star Wars cries, and you whirl just in time to see The Wizard of Oz, whizzing around and giggling and preoccupied with teasing NIVEA-sweater man, stumble into the six-foot-tall tower of Christmas Tree-scented candles and send countless jars crashing to the tile floor.

“I knew it!” you unleash in a rush of misery and exasperation, the biting threat of tears in your eyes and the back of your throat. And of course, it isn’t just about the mess on the floor, it isn’t just about having to tell your manager and hoping to God he doesn’t fire you. It’s about your derelict apartment, it’s about your fucked up eyeliner, it’s about everything that’s happened in the past eighteen months; it’s about the never-ending feelings of helplessness and inertia and predestined ruin, it’s about not being able to get fifteen meters down the street before life throws up another red light, another jagged sinkhole gaping like ravenous jaws. And none of that is these ridiculous British men’s fault; yet still, in that moment the fury you feel towards them is overwhelming.

“Jesus christ,” Kevin mumbles, stepping out from behind the counter to survey the damage, his hands still clutching the broom and dustbin.

“You couldn’t just mosey around and ask which candles are on sale and maybe sniff one or two like a normal person?!” you explode. “You had to come in here acting like goddamn animals and destroy like a third of our inventory?!”

“I’m so sorry,” The Wizard of Oz sputters, looking at you and Kevin with wide, profusely apologetic dark eyes. Star Wars and NIVEA-sweater man are helping him to his feet, albeit with very spirited chidings. Kevin is grudgingly asking if he’s alright. Casablanca is already trying to sort through which candles are broken and putting those that survived aside. And when he casts furtive glances from behind his aviator sunglasses, they’re directed not at Kevin or The Wizard of Oz but at you.

“Freddie, bloody hell,” NIVEA-sweater man laments.

“I’ll pay for them all,” The Wizard of Oz tells you. “I’m so, so, so terribly sorry, you’re absolutely right to be cross with me, and I’ll pay for everything. Here, let me get my wallet…” He digs around in the pockets of his preposterously tight red leather pants.

“Uh…sir…” Kevin begins uncertainly, not wanting to break the bad news.

“It’s going to be hundreds of dollars,” you inform The Wizard of Oz. “Maybe over a thousand. You’re really going to pay that? Or are you just going to wait until we start sweeping up and then sprint out the front door the first chance you get?”

“Hey,” Kevin warns you quietly. He wants you to keep this job probably even more than you do. You are, by his own admission, far and away his favorite coworker.

“No, no, darling, please, let her scold me, I deserve it.” The Wizard of Oz at last locates his wallet. He sashays to the counter, brushing nuggets of glittering glass off his clothes, and counts out two thousand Canadian dollars in hundreds. “Will that do? You can keep the change as compensation for the inconvenience. And we’ll help clean up as well, has anyone got an extra broom?”

As you stare down at the money, shocked into speechlessness, three hulking men dressed in black come barreling into the shop.

“Lord in heaven, Freddie, what happened?!” one asks. He has a thick beard and an Irish accent and closely resembles a grizzly bear.

“I made a complete ass out of myself and am now trying to win the affections of this marvelous creature,” The Wizard of Oz replies, flourishing a hand towards you. “Is it working, dear?”

“Kind of,” you admit, still stunned.

“Oh my god.” The broom tumbles out of Kevin’s grasp and clatters on the floor. He points at The Wizard of Oz. “I know where I’ve seen you before. You…you…you’re Freddie Mercury, right?”

In reply, The Wizard of Oz only flashes an enormous, toothy, dazzling grin.

“Oh my god,” Kevin says again, a starry, awed smile rippling across his round face.

“Please don’t make his ego any bigger,” Star Wars pleads.

“And you’re Brian May!” Kevin replies. “And you’re…” He turns to NIVEA-sweater man, snapping his fingers, trying to remember. “Robbie…no, Ronnie…uh…Ricky…?”

“Roger Taylor.” But it comes out like ‘Rogah Taylah.’ NIVEA-sweater man extends a hand for Kevin to shake, not the least bit offended. “It’s a pleasure. Sorry about the candles.”

“No problem, sir!” Kevin squeaks as he takes Roger’s hand, beaming. The men in black—the band’s security, you’ve gathered—have descended upon the crime scene, confiscated Kevin’s broom and dustbin, and are rapidly clearing glass and chunks of candlewax from the floor and discarding the mess in a trash bin that usually collects only chewed gum and unwanted receipts.

“So I guess I probably shouldn’t have yelled at you,” you tell Freddie Mercury guiltily, all the venom in your voice evaporated. You’re no Queen superfan, true, but everyone knows the words to Bohemian Rhapsody and We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions. And Another One Bites The Dust. And Killer Queen. And Crazy Little Thing Called Love. And Somebody To Love. Your thoughts are suddenly a racing, indecipherable blur. Your knees are boneless. You’ve never met a celebrity before. Well, not unless you count professional hockey players, which you definitely don’t.

“No, you absolutely should have,” Freddie retorts. “I was dreadfully discourteous. I’m positively mortified about it. I should be punished severely. Have you got anything behind the counter to whip me with? A riding crop, perhaps?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not that I know of. I’m sorry I called you an animal.”

“I’m sorry about the candles. There, now we’re even. Wait, not quite yet.” He calls over to Kevin: “Darling, how would you and your friend like front row seats at our show tonight?”

The squeal that bursts out of Kevin is not human.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Freddie Mercury says, very pleased.

“This is really too generous of you,” you protest, although your heart isn’t in it; Kevin might legitimately strangle you if you screw this up, and you’re finding that you want to see Queen in concert too. It’s something to interrupt the powerless, unrelenting monotony; it’s like something that might happen in a movie or a dream.

“Nonsense!” Freddie announces cheerfully. Star Wars and NIVEA-sweater man—or, rather, Brian and Roger—are chatting with the security guys and nodding along as the bearlike Irishman reviews the day’s itinerary.

You peer over at Casablanca. Now that the floor is mostly clear, he’s migrating towards you and Freddie. You glance apprehensively down at your reflection. “Goddammit,” you mutter, manipulating your bangs again, wishing you could disappear. “I meet a rock star for the first time ever and I look like this.”

“It’s not that bad,” Kevin says, obviously lying.

“I like it,” Freddie tells you, propping his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his knuckles. “It’s very goth raccoon chic.”

“My bathroom light wouldn’t turn on this morning and I was late for work and I guesstimated and that was clearly a poor decision.” Poor decisions are my expertise, you think instinctively, and feel a tug of something you don’t quite have the words for. Shame, grief, disappointment, a raw sting like a flame beneath your palm, a dread like a child who’s lost their mother’s hand.  

“I’ve offered to take a look at the wiring!” Kevin exclaims. “I told you, a D is passing!”

“Kev, babe,” you reply. “I really, truly appreciate your enthusiasm, but you’ll probably just make it worse. And then my landlord will hate me and keep my security deposit and write me awful references and I’ll have to live in an endless string of ancient, hideous apartments until I die.”

“It’s an electrical problem?” Casablanca asks, pushing his aviator sunglasses up into his unruly hair. His unveiled eyes are a blueish grey—they remind you of one of the candles, maybe Beach Walk or Bahama Breeze—and very direct. He stares at you and you stare back, and at some point you realize that everyone is waiting for you to answer.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so. Sometimes nothing happens when I flip the switch. That’s the extent of my handyman knowledge, unfortunately.”

Casablanca nods. “I could take a look, if you like.”

Not Beach Walk. Not Bahama Breeze. Warm Luxe Cashmere, maybe. “Now that really is too generous. I couldn’t possibly put a rock star to work on my terrible apartment.”

“John’s got a degree in electrical engineering, that’s right in his wheelhouse,” Brian counters.

“Yes,” Roger says, grinning, teasing in a way that has absolutely no malice in it. “He’s more of an engineer than a rock star anyway, isn’t he?”

“Seriously?” Casablanca—John, you mentally correct yourself—doesn’t seem much like an electrical engineer. But Roger’s right: he doesn’t really seem like a rock star, either. What John seems like is steady and abiding and perceptive, attentive, unflinching. He studies you like some people study paintings, like you once studied paintings; not in a passing-by-in-a-crowded-hallway type way but in a patient way, a methodical way, with the quiet that comes from knowing that vision in the frame is older than you will ever be and will still be hanging on that wall when you’re bones in a box somewhere.

Freddie lights a cigarette and puffs on it decadently. Smoking definitely isn’t allowed inside the Yankee Candle shop, but you aren’t about to snap at Freddie Mercury for the second time today. “Oh, let him tinker around in your flat, darling. It’ll make his day.”

“Is it far?” John asks you.

“No, really, Casa…uh, I mean, John, I appreciate the offer more than I could possibly express but I—”

“It’s just a few blocks north,” Kevin says, and tosses you a wily smile.

“How convenient!” Freddie trills. “When does your shift end, dear?”

“Not until 5:30.”

“She can take a long lunch break.” Another smile from Kevin. “Honestly, there’s not much to do around here now that the Great Candle Massacre of 1981 has been remediated.”

“Splendid!” Freddie says, radiant.

You shake your head, very slowly. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“Then you clearly haven’t lived enough,” Freddie quips.

“Fred!” Roger presses. “Are we going to the bookstore down the street or not? That was the whole deal, we suffer through your candles, you suffer through our books.”

“You didn’t seem to be suffering,” Brian says.

“Of course I’m suffering. That cashier over there almost murdered me,” Roger slings back.  

Freddie sighs and rolls his large, dark, expressive eyes. “Yes, darling, of course, don’t give yourself an aneurism. We’ll go to the bookstore, John can rendezvous with us later.” Now he turns to you. “We’ll send a car to your flat at 7 to pick you and Kevin up for the show tonight. Don’t let John leave without knowing your address. Wear something deliciously opulent. Lots of sparkle. Maybe furs.”

“I make eight dollars an hour,” you tell him.  

“Or you could just wear nothing.”

“Sparkle and furs it is.”

Freddie chuckles and turns to the men in black. “Chubby, my dear?”

The towering bearlike Irishman replies: “Yeah, I’ll go with John. Don’t wreck anything else while I’m gone. Don’t get yourselves deported before the show. EMI will have your heads on spikes.”

Freddie pretends to be scandalized. “Causing destruction? We would never.” He saunters towards the shop door, jingling the bells as he swings it open, and waves like royalty. “See you tonight, darlings!”

“Bye!” Kevin shouts after him. And then, after Freddie, Roger, Brian, and the two non-bearlike men in black have departed: “Oh my god I just met Freddie Mercury and he’s amazing and he knows I exist and he spoke to me and tonight he’s sending a car to take me to a concert and I’m going to have front row seats and what if he invites me to have a drink afterwards oh my god.”

John, evidently unaffected, prompts you: “So your place is just a few blocks away?”

“Yeah. Just let me get my coat…”

The man in black—Chubby, as Freddie had introduced him—fetches your coat off the rack by the door and holds it up so you can slip inside it. No one has ever done that for you before.

“…Thanks…?” You button your coat, feeling a little like royalty yourself at the moment.

John pulls open the door, the tiny metal bells jangling, and gestures out into the streets of downtown Montreal. He’s wearing his aviator sunglasses again; the November wind gusts through his hair. You catch threadbare ghosts of cigarette smoke and cologne that the breeze lifts from his skin like pages of a book. And he smiles, just barely. “After you.”

You walk north together along the path of the sidewalk with your hands in your pockets, your breath fog in the cold, weaving through the bustling crowds of tourists and holiday shoppers, Chubby trailing not far behind and displaying his talent for keeping watch while not letting on that he is. To even your own horror, you can’t seem to shut up.

“John, this is so kind of you, this is completely unnecessary, you really shouldn’t feel like you owe me anything because Freddie already paid for the candles twice over and I was totally unprofessional for yelling at customers, even annoying customers, and Kevin and I are already getting a free concert tonight and so—”

“Okay,” John says firmly. “You have to talk about something else now.”

“I can’t talk about anything else. All I can think about is how ridiculous this is.”

“Have you lived in Montreal long?” he asks, very casually, as if you’re strangers in line next to each other at Starbucks.

“My whole life.” Minus a little over three years, but you don’t need to get into that. “My parents live over in Verdun, right on the St. Lawrence River.

“Sounds scenic.”

“It certainly is.” You’re trying not to look at John, because every time you do it’s hard to stop. You look at the cars rolling by instead. “This is super embarrassing, and I don’t mean to offend you, but what exactly do you do in Queen?”

He’s not offended; he thinks it’s hilarious. “I’m the bassist.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, bassists are quiet and reliable or whatever. Bassists don’t terrorize Yankee Candle employees.”

“You’re not a Queen fan?”

“I’m a casual and appreciative listener, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I couldn’t pick any of you out of a lineup, clearly. Roger is the drummer, right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Drummers are feral, almost universally. Which means Brian must be lead guitar.”

“And what do you think of lead guitarists?”

“Word on the street is that they are brilliant yet micromanaging egomaniacs, but I don’t want to bash your friend or anything.”

John chuckles, like there’s some joke you aren’t in on yet. “No, please, bash away. So you prefer bassists.”

And finally you do look at him, and you regret it immediately; because now you’re caught in the thoughtful crinkles around his eyes and the barely-there stubble of his cheeks and the playful curve of his lips and how the wind ruffles his auburn hair the same way it steals leaves off of slumbering trees. You almost walk right past the bakery. “Oh, wait, we’re here.”

You lead John and Chubby upstairs to your chronically irritating apartment. John removes his sunglasses, inspects your bathroom light switch, then asks if you have a specific kind of screwdriver. You bring him the toolkit that has lived beneath the kitchen sink since before you moved in and he roots around, finds what he’s searching for, and unfastens the light switch plate from the wall.

“Please don’t electrocute yourself,” you fret, as Chubby meanders around in the living room and tries not to intrude. “If you die your groupies will never forgive me.”

“Who says I’ve got groupies?” John replies, amused.

“I just assumed all rock stars do.” Your eyes flick down to his hands as he fidgets with the wiring; and you notice randomly—or, maybe, not all that randomly—that he’s not wearing a ring. You’re still ruminating over that when he returns the light switch plate to the wall, secures each of the four screws with a few deft twists of his wrist, and performs a test flip. The light turns on immediately.

“Mission accomplished,” John says mildly.

“What?! No, no way, no freaking way.” You flip the switch again. The light turns off and on obediently. You try it at least five more times. Perfection. “…How?!”

“Just a few loose wires. No great hardship.” He tucks the screwdriver back into the toolkit.  

You gape at him. “That took you…like…two minutes.”

“Aren’t you glad my band wandered into your candle shop and almost demolished the place today?” He rests his hands on his waist; his sturdy, skillful, ringless hands. “Anything else I can fix for you?”

“Definitely not.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He stares at you. You stare back.

“Stop looking at my fucked up eyeliner.”

John laughs. It’s a delightfully clear, disarming sound. “That’s not what I was doing.”  

“I should fix my makeup and go back to work now. And you should probably go help your friends burn down the bookstore or blow up a Starbucks or do whatever else is on your agenda for today.”

“Soundcheck and dinner, actually,” John says. He slides the toolkit back beneath your kitchen sink, meets Chubby by the front door, and pauses there to give you one last lingering, laden gaze. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“In my best furs,” you purr in your most convincing Freddie Mercury impression.

“Or nothing at all,” John suggests levelly. And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

It turns out better than you thought it would. Your tan, knee-high suede boots are celebratory without being too uncomfortable. Kevin brings you a faux fur jacket that he stole from Patrick during the breakup. You find a glittery black dress in the back of your closet that you once loved, then couldn’t stand to look at, then forgot existed entirely; but tonight it’s like you’re seeing it with brand new eyes. It fits even better than you remember. In the mirror, you look like a stranger and a hauntingly familiar acquaintance and yourself all at once.

Chubby arrives in a black limousine at precisely 7pm, parks along the curb next to the bakery, and honks the horn twice. You and Kevin dash down the narrow steps and climb into the backseat, finding complimentary cigarettes and bottled water and chilled champagne. As the limo rolls though Montreal under changing traffic lights, Kevin prattles on about the band, their history, their albums, their tours…and John in particular. He tries to tempt you. You resist valiantly…for the first fifteen minutes, anyway.

Finally, you sigh in capitulation. “Okay. Fine. I get it. What do you know about him?”

“I know he’s divorced,” Kevin says, wiggling his eyebrows. “I saw it on the cover of a tabloid a while back. Very contentious, spicy stuff. He’s got like eight kids.”

“He does not have eight kids!”

“Okay, maybe not eight. But he has a lot,” Kevin insists.

You rearrange your hair with deliberate flippantness. “What do I care if he’s divorced?”

Kevin grins. “You know why you care.”

“Stop,” you plead.

“Look, all I’m saying is that he definitely likes you. And you like him. And I haven’t seen you like anybody, ever, in the…wait, let me count…the nine whole months that I’ve known you. When was the last time you even had a boyfriend? When was the last time you got laid? Oh my god, it hasn’t been nine months, has it?! That’s way too long to go without sex. No wonder you’re so serious all the time. It all makes sense now. You poor thing. You’re in dick withdrawal.”

“Assuming that’s my problem—which it isn’t, by the way—if I wanted to get laid there are far easier ways to accomplish that.”

“Sure,” Kevin says. “But you don’t want just any dick. You want British bassist dick. John Deacon dick. Casablanca dick.”

“This friendship is terminated.”

Kevin cackles, pouring himself a glass of champagne that bubbles over the top and spills onto the limo floor. “I’m really glad you’re here with me. I’m glad we can do this together.”

You fill a champagne flute with bottled water and clink your glass against his, smiling. The limo is turning into the parking lot of the Montreal Forum. “Me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The backstage room that Chubby escorts you and Kevin to after the show is full of chatter and heavy smoke and roadies and fans and musicians and journalists, trays of hors d'oeuvres, wine and Stella Artois and vodka and tequila and rum, the electric promise of things that will go unmentioned in the morning. There are stacks of stereo speakers in the corner rumbling out Another One Bites The Dust. You and Kevin camp out on a green velvet couch—making small talk with each other to avoid making it with anyone else—until the band arrives.

John is still wearing his concert outfit: blue pants, blue shirt, a black leather jacket that gives him an edge like a knife. He passes out a few polite nods; but Freddie and Roger are undeniably the suns in this room, and the guests their planets. Freddie is soon surrounded by a constellation of followers and whisks Kevin away with him. John, meanwhile, comes straight to where you’re sitting on the couch and stands in front of you with his messy hair and his veil of cologne and his mystery-candle-blue eyes.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks in that calm, measured way that you’ve learned he has. “Rum and Coke? Moscow Mule? Hurricane? I’ve been on a mojito kick recently.”

“I don’t drink.” And you wait for the inevitable awkwardness that usually follows that sentence, when he says why? or seriously? or maybe just oh in wilted disappointment.

Instead, what John says is this: “No problem. Rum minus the Coke?”

You smile up at him. You can’t help yourself. “That would be perfect.”

There are innumerable drinks already poured on a table, dark carbonated liquid trembling in red plastic cups as the bass from the stereo speakers quakes through the crowded, droning, smoke-hazed room. John moves from cup to cup, taking tentative sips before shaking his head and putting them back down on the table. After each attempt, he casts you a rueful smirk before continuing on to the next cup. At last, he finds two unadulterated Cokes and brings them to the couch: one for you, and one for him. He sits beside you with one of his legs crossed over the other, a lit cigarette in his right hand, a red plastic cup of Coke in his left, and his eyes on you in a way that isn’t hungry or arrogant or restless but merely, benignly contemplative. You find yourself thinking of paintings in museums again, you even start to feel a little like one; and you wonder what colors he sees in you, what types of brushstrokes, what signatures scribbled in the corners of the canvas, what shadows painstakingly penciled in to mimic the angles of the sun.

You tell John about growing up in Montreal, about autumn strolls along the St. Lawrence River, about snowfalls and Mont-Royal and Chinatown and the Notre-Dame Basilica, about the exhilarating turmoil of the Summer Olympics in 1976. You tell him about how Kevin is in his last year at Concordia University and works part-time at the Yankee Candle shop for money to invest in his hair gel and travel fund. You tell him so many things he doesn’t notice all the parts you leave out. In return, John tells you about himself; not about John Deacon the bassist of Queen, but about the understated man who likes cars and electronics and the Beatles and tea in the evenings beside a roaring fireplace. And when his arm comes to rest on the back of the green velvet couch, and then across your shoulders, and then around your waist, it doesn’t feel strange at all. You lean into him as you exchange stories and clandestine giggles until you’re nearly in his lap, and that doesn’t feel strange either. And you haven’t had a drop of alcohol—you haven’t in almost a full year, in fact—but you feel a little drunk tonight, because your cheeks are hot and the room is blurry and the world is brimming with a pure, rose-gold, uncomplicated happiness.

The other band members periodically stop by to say hello, clutching their drinks and making stilted pleasantries as you and John smile drowsily up at them, looking nothing like the soberest people in the room. Chubby and the rest of the men in black are simultaneously omnipresent and scarce, which you are beginning to think is a requirement inked into their job description. Kevin, having been fully absorbed into Freddie’s entourage, is beaming and flushed and extremely, blissfully tipsy. And they all watch you and John not with scandalized sideways glances but with warm approval swimming in their gleaming eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you yet,” you tell John when you are alone again. “For improving my dreadful apartment. So thank you. You really didn’t have to do that. I hate that I marred your time in Montreal with unpaid labor.”

He shrugs it off. “I like fixing things. It’s what I’m best at.”

“Besides being an internationally acclaimed rock star, you mean.”

“I’m honestly not so sure I’m cut out for the rock star life.”

“You are, though. I saw you. I watched you all night.”

John just stares at you, and then he leans in even closer, inhaling deeply. You can feel the heat of his breath on your collarbone, your shoulder, your neck; goosebumps spring up across your skin like stars at twilight. “What the hell is that? Perfume? Lotion? Shampoo?”

“It’s probably sugar and baking bread, because I live on top of a bakery.”

“Does Yankee Candle make anything that smells like you?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “They definitely do not.”

“They should,” John murmurs. And with the rough whirlpools of his fingertips he turns your face to his so he can kiss you.

It should be kind of humiliating, right? Making out with some guy you just met on a green couch in front of thirty strangers, your hands getting tangled in each other’s hair, your lips meeting again and again, taunting darts of the tongue and quick painless bites and stifled moans and grasping tugs at clothes that you’re starting to wish weren’t there at all. It should feel embarrassing, you should feel overexposed, here in this land of unfamiliar expectations and accents and faces. But no one seems to be watching too closely. This must be so tame in the world of rock stars, it occurs to you; almost wholesome. And you can’t remember a time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“There’s a pool table in the next room,” someone says, startling you, and you break away from John to discover Roger perched on the arm of the couch, grinning coyly as he sips his emerald glass bottle of Stella Artois. “I mean…you know. If you’re into that. John’s got all sorts of moves, we played for days at a time at Ridge Farm. You could challenge him to a round or two. Place bets. But be warned…he’s a total pool shark.”

“Is he?” you ask mischievously, clasping the lapel of John’s leather jacket. Even if you freed him, he shows no indication of retreating. He’s raking his knuckles back and forth along the length of your thigh that your little black dress leaves exposed, never venturing above the hem.  

Roger winks. “Just thought you might want to know.” Then he hops off the couch and disappears into the crowd again.

John is trying to keep his eyes locked on yours, and no lower. He’s trying to not be even vanishingly forceful. He’s trying not to sway you. But you know exactly what he wants. “Do you…?”

“Show me how to play pool,” you whisper. And you lead him through the shuffling bodies and boisterous, increasingly intoxicated laughter and cumulus clouds of cigarette smoke to the door on the other side of the room.

Beyond the threshold you find a pool table and not much else. It’s terribly unceremonious; it’s absolutely perfect. You can hear Blondie’s Call Me playing back in the packed room where the rest of the band is still reveling, the bass crawling through the walls to radiate in your eardrums, your bones. You lock the door and reach out to flick off the harsh florescent lights, but John stops you. You don’t have to ask him why. He wants to be able to see you. He asks if this is okay—again, wordlessly, with the forthright blue of his eyes—and you nod. And then he kisses you as you drag him in, breathing in his cologne and nicotine, tasting the virgin Coke on his lips that he drank just for you.

John tears off his leather jacket. You toss the faux fur that Kevin lent you to the floor. You climb up onto the pool table, and John follows you. You yank off his shirt, link your suede boots around him as he positions himself between your naked, down-soft thighs. And then John stops.

“Look, I have to be honest,” he says. His hands tremble as they cradle the small of your back, just barely. “I’m newly divorced, and I’m really out of practice, I mean really out of practice, and this is not at all my usual way of doing things, and if I’m total rubbish or only last like thirty seconds or something I just want to apologize in advance and swear that I’ll do absolutely everything I can to make this worth it for you. Because I like you. I really, really like you.”

“I’m a little rusty too,” you confess with a small, sheepish smile. But he doesn’t need to know exactly how rusty you are, or in how many ways, all those layers of blood-hued ruin that spin webs from the skin down to the marrow.

John seems relieved. “Then maybe we’re even.”

You’re not even, you’re nowhere close; but it’s comforting that he thinks you could be.

John kisses you again. His hands find the zipper on the back of your dress, and then the tiny metal clasp of your bra, and then the black lace of your panties…and then everything else as well.

~~~~~~~~~~

Afterwards, you return together to the green velvet couch in the next room, not with bashful swiftness but with your hands entwined, your eyes satiated and calm, your clothes unapologetically rumpled. The partying is winding down. The song pouring through the stereo speakers is In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins. And now you and John don’t talk very much at all; you just sit there with fresh cups of Coke, your head resting against his chest, his left arm draped around you, watching the rest of the universe spin on like a carousel as your feet stay rooted to the earth.

“So you’re the smart one,” you say eventually. “You must be, with an electrical engineering degree.”

“You’d be surprised. We’re rather erudite, as far as rock stars go.” He smiles drowsily down at you. “Freddie’s got a degree in graphic art and design. Roger has one in biology. Brian has the better part of a PhD in astrophysics. He might even go back to finish it one day. He probably will, just to be able to lord it over us.”

“Wow,” you reply, distantly, suddenly feeling very small.

“What did you study?” he asks you.

In truth, you never finished college; but you aren’t going to tell John that. “Something useless.”

John is intrigued, and perhaps a little concerned as well. His brow furrows with grooves like lines of fortune in an open palm.

“I wanted to be a painter,” you explain, smirking at the absurdity. “But the world doesn’t need painters anymore. They have pictures and videos that are just as clear as real life. They don’t need my fantasies or interpretations. They have reality.”

“I think we still need painters,” John disagrees, his calloused fingertips tracing lazy circles around your bare shoulder.

“Really?”

“Yeah. For when reality requires improving.”

You let a few moments of silence tick by. And then you put on your faux fur jacket, finish the last of your Coke, stand and find your balance on the low heels of your boots with exhausted, shaky calves.

John jolts upright, somewhat alarmed. “Hey, you don’t have to—”

“This was great, John. This was the best night I’ve had in a long time. So thank you for that. But I have to go home now.”

“Okay.” He studies you, processing. “Okay, okay. I’ll have Chubby drive you.”

“That’s really not necessary, I can get a cab…”

But John has already waved Chubby over, and the massive man appears serendipitously with an impossible degree of stealth. Kevin finds you, staggering, babbling breathlessly about all of his adventures, showing you where Freddie and Roger and Brian signed his chest with a black Sharpie, repeating the same stories on an identical loop every few minutes. As you leave, you offer John a brief parting wave; and he returns it, like a reflection in a mirror, but he’s wearing a pensive frown and eyes dark with thought. Then again, maybe you are too.

Chubby leads you and Kevin outside to the waiting limousine. You slip into the backseat, ply Kevin with bottled water, open the sunroof so moonlight and cold, reviving November air can flood in like a river.

Kevin is coming down now from the high of the champagne and the concert and the carousing with Freddie Mercury. He blinks, soaking you in, really seeing you for the first time in hours. “Wow, you had a good night with Casablanca. You had a really good night.”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, resting your head against the window and watching the stars and streetlights pass by above like seasons. “And it will never happen again.”

[mirinda03]

A MURDER OF CROWS

@inkytrinket-irii

Or, a fic about Phil’s crows/chat and the resulting effects on his family

Philza Minecraft.

Many tales were known about the man. Some said he was an immortal, nicknamed the Angel of death, who spread death throughout the lands. Others argued that actually served death as the most fateful of angels. Some suggested he was just a really old man, while others knew better. With black wings spanning on his back that carried him across both earth and sea.

People knew a lot about Philza, be it because of legends or tales.

What was not as well known about Phil was his murder.

And no, not as in Phil was secretly a murderer who got away with a crime in the middle of the night by escaping out of the third floor window and taking flight so as to not be seen by any passerby.

… anyways

Murder as in a group of crows, reminiscent of Phil’s crow-like black wings, that followed the Angel in mass.

Not many people knew about the crows, not from a want of secrecy but rather a lack of asking. If you were to ask Phil, he’d simply tell you that’s ‘chat’, but if you were to remain silent and assume Phil just.. had a bunch of domesticated birds then that was what you were left with.

There were only three people who really knew about Phil’s crow.

The second best kept secret of the angel.

His children.

————

Crows were a constant in the Minecraft Household.

Wherever you walked, it was almost a given that you’d come across a crow sitting by the window or on the beds.

Sometimes they brought trinkets of coins (which Tommy was more than happy to try to steal) and even though they couldn't communicate with the three younger members of the family, they all knew they were Phil's.

If they were ever in trouble, they could know their dad was watching by simply spotting one of the crows from the murder flying high.

However, it was almost impossible to discern the difference between Phil’s crows and normal crow’s.

Not only that but most people were unaware of the crows, or even that the angel of death was a father to three kids (two of which he found inside a refrigerator. Don't ask)

As expected, chaos ensued

———-

Tommy was almost outside his window, ready to sneak out of the house. He’d been grounded after he’d tried to claim one of the birds as his own and named it ‘Puss Boy’ (resulting in the bird now being permanently tagged as such.)

The murder, bunch of snitches they were, hadn’t been very happy about it and they snitched to Phil about it which earned Tommy a scolding and a grounding.

Which, fuck that. He’d promised Tubbo the two would go explore the nearby cave to try and find some bats. He wanted to name one Bartholomew, it was a pogchamp name for a bat after all.

How was he supposed to get a bat named Bartholomew if he was fucking grounded huh? It made, in his oh so humble opinion, no fucking sense.

So, he decided on the most obvious choice of course.

Sneaking out of the house.

He waited until his family members were asleep to climb down his window and across the roof of the porch, getting ready to jump and make a run for it when he heard a ruffle from behind him.

Slowly, he turned around to look at the big tree which leaves covered part of the roof.

Crow eyes stared back, a name tag around its neck standing out from its silvery color.

‘Puss boy’

. Ah fuck

He’d ended up getting ANOTHER scolding from Phil for trying to sneak out and even more days grounded. However apparently Puss Boy had spammed hit Phil with small pebbles on his head so it was grounded too, and alongside tommy to top it off.

“You are the most annoying fucking bird in the world” Tommy said, trying to get the crow to stop picking up his stuff from its bookshelves “Fucking DIE already”

The crow squawked, dropping yet another small object on Tommy’s head.

“I fucking hate you you fucking pussy bird i am going to get phil to cook you for dinner” Tommy warned as he tried to swat off the bird by jumping high.

The crow squawked again

“Dont you say that to me you absolute fucking bitchass bird— i dont actually know what you say BUT IM SURE IT WAS FUCKING STUPID”

Puss boy ended up sticking around Tommy even after the grounding was over, for some fucking reason.

Tommy, despite his increasing protests and remarks against it, kept the bird.

——-

The day the spirits appeared, Techno was actually having a pretty normal day. He’d woken up, tried not to step on too many crows and ended up stepping into some anyway, had stolen the last piece of bread right before Tommy could eat it and he’d started up with reading a brand new book from the family library.

Then, the spirits came.

It wasn’t a gradual thing that he realized as hours passed, no.

The voices were loud and sudden and brash

‘BLOODFORTHEBLOODGODBLOODFORTHEBLOODGODBLOODFORTHEBLOODGOD’

Who the fuck was the Blood God?

Techno shrugged, flipping another page on his book

‘EEEEEEEBLOODFORTHEBLOODGODETECHNOTECHNOBLADETECHN—‘

Techno ignored the spirits currently crowding him that demanded blood and focused on his book.

He didn't find this all that weird anyway. After all, Phil had birds that also spoke to him right?

Same thing

—————

Wilbur smiled as people came forward to praise him for his singing. The young 12 year old had just gotten done with his first recital.

His music teacher frowned

“Oh Wilbur, i’m sorry your dad didn't show up” The teacher said, patting him on the shoulder as the other kids excitedly talked to their parents.

Wilbur simply shrugged, a ‘what can you do about it’ gesture. His dad, as the angel of death, was honestly busy.

However, he certainly noticed the almost dozen crows watching the recital from the rooftops.

His dad wasn’t here physically, but he was certainly gonna hear all about it.

—————

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tubbo called out from the ground, staring at the level of altitude Tommy was up on “Are you planning to jump up from the branch? Cause if so, do a backflip!”

“No, you bitch, i’m not” Tommy said like it was the most ridiculous thing before turning back to where he was trying to hold a conversation with a bluebird.

“Call philllllll you stupid pussy” Tommy said “Cmon go fly back to dadza, you little snitch. Ill even give you something to gift him so hell pay attention to you”

Tommy threw a small coin at the bird, watching as it stared at the coin in confusion before ruffling its feathers and flying away coinless.

“OII. YOU FUCKER. ANSWER TO ME, CALL PHILLLL. PHILLLLLLL”

Tubbo stared at his friend in the tree, rolling his eyes and beginning to shake the tree

“Will you get down already, Tommy? Its almost curfew!”

“STOP SHAKING THE TREE IM GOING IM GOING—“

——————

Wilbur was having a staring contest with a crow.

Well, to be exact, Wilbur was planning to win a bet thanks to this crow.

“Wilbur just give up” Techno said boredly from his place on the ground “You’re never gonna guess it, can i go back to reading?”

The twins were sitting in their shared bedroom, sitting on the carpet floor.

One of them was being a ridiculously obstinate bastard wanting to win a stupid bet.

The other just wanted to read his book, thank you very much.

Neither of them were getting what they wanted it seemed.

Wilbur tired his gaze from the crow, glaring at his twin

“I’m telling you techno, I can guess whether it's one of dad’s or not. Just give me a couple of minutes”

He went back to his staring contest.

Techno sighed, putting his hands over his face

“Bruhhhhhhhhh”

————

The crows were a constant in the boy’s lives, following them around and telling them that no matter what their father was there. They just had to look for a crow nearby.

They were also very fucking annoying, in the youngest opinion.

However, he found himself looking for the familiarity of the crows as he walked into the new SMP Land. He found a trio of crows sitting on the branches of the tree and rolled his eyes, keeping eye of the following crows.

“Come on Puss boy” Tommy said to the crow, which was smuggled inside his backpack because of course it fucking was. The annoying bird was so clingy, ender “We’re gonna dominate this fucking Dream Smp Land!”

[gr0vndz3ro]

Prove Your Worth

Ceo!Bakugou x Reader(NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, slight bondage, slight degradation, dirty talk

Word count: 3,968

A/n: My friend gave me this idea because she really wanted to see a ceo bakugou and this is how I imagined it would happen but also im a hoe for some ceo sooooo. I enjoyed this a little to much so it turned out longer than what I expected that's what she said. Also I have had to rewrite this so many times because my computer is stupid. I’m also going to be taking requests for other characters in the BNHA fandom. This was my first smut so I hope y’all like.

You stood in front of the two daunting glass doors, a lump growing in your throat as you hold onto the intern paperwork. You’re in your third year and at the Sports Festival you were finally able to make it up to 2nd place. For the first time you had more than 50 offers, a LOT more. You knew that in order to become a successful hero you were going to have to try to get in with a Pro. You were surprised to see an offer from one Pro let alone two. Deku . . . and Ground Zero, shuddering at the thought of the intense Hero. 

You take a step forward and pushed open the door, looking around the lobby and spot the receptions desk and walk over. A lady with short pink hair is typing away at the computer.

 “How can I help you there?” She said without looking up or even pausing her ferocious typing. It had honestly caught you off guard as you were just going to wait for her to finish.

“I’m Y/N L/N, the 3rd year from UA, and I was here because of the offer I got for the internship?” you hand over you hero license and show her your school I.D. She takes both cards and looks at them. You glance down at her name tag as she continues typing in the computer looking up the information, noticing that it says Mina. Wasn’t she in the same class as Deku and Ground Zero, as a matter of fact all of Ground Zero’s old high school friend group work at this agency.

“Alright it looks like in here you have a meeting with the big guy for 1:00. He’s in a meeting right now and he should be out soon... hopefully. If you head to the top floor there is going to be a waiting lounge to your right once you get out.” Mina says, interrupting your thoughts. She gestures to the elevator and flashes a quick smile.

“Thank you so much” you smile back to her and head over to the elevator. Once you enter you notice just how many floors there are. I’d expect nothing less from the Number 2 hero. You click on the top floor and make your way up. Once the elevator hits the top floor you spot the waiting area and make your  way over

. ~time skip~

The meeting Ground Zero was in went over schedule to say the least. It was currently 2:30 and you were still sitting in the lounge. Mina had even come up for her lunch break to keep you company once she found out the meeting was going over. Maybe I’ll just go with De- your thought was cut off by a door down the hall being opened.

 You quickly stood up and fixed your skirt and looked at who exited the room. You soon recognized them as the Pro Heroes Deku and Ground Zero themselves. They start to walk down the hall towards where you am standing, still in conversation. Once they make it to where you was the green haired man notices in there and turns to you and smiles.

“You’re Y/N, from the Sports Festival right? I’m sorry I wasn't able to make our meeting this morning, as you can see now, something had come up. I do hope to reschedule and talk to you about joining my agency for your internship. You’re very talented with that quirk of yours.” Deku says to you. He then turns back to Ground Zero and says, “I really hope you change your mind Kacchan.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that you damn nerd.” Ground Zero glares back at the him at the nickname. Maybe it’s an inside joke? Deku chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh yeah, sorry about that Bakugou. I do hope to hear from you though.” He turns away from him and back to you “And you too.” and with that he headed to the elevator. While watching him walk away you hadn’t even realized that the angry man that was once in front of you was no longer there. You look around to find him when you hear

“Oi are you coming or what?” come from the direction of where the two heroes had originally came from. You scramble to grab your stuff from next to couch and rush over to where he was holding open the door. As you walk in you mumble a thank you to which he only replies with “Tsk-” and then go to stand in the middle of the office. It was very spacious with all black furniture and state of the art technology. The office was surrounded with ceiling to floor windows that covered the three walls that lead to outside. A door was off to the left that lead to his rap-around balcony that you could sort of see due to the half open blinds.

 “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take a seat?” Bakugou says while seating behind his desk, grabbing a file that was put off to the side. You take a seat in the chair in front of his desk, placing your bag on the floor next to your feet. Looking up you can see him going through what you believe is to be your academic file. You take the moment to look at who you could possibly be interning with. He was quite handsome... and by handsome I mean fucking hot. His blond hair was slightly messing from what you could assume was from his prior meeting and was starting to fall in front of his deep crimson eyes. He slightly bits his lip focusing on the paperwork in front of him, those same intense eye darting back and forth. Your eyes start to travel down his torso to see that his black button up had the top few buttons undone. Then to his arms seeing that the fabric on his sleeve is tightly accentuating the muscles trapped inside of them. Hell the whole shirt was tight on him and you can’ t tell if it was because the shirt was a size to small or he was just that built. His hands start flipping through the file and you catch him lick his finger to help turn the page. You shouldn’t find someone flipping a paper this attractive but seeing the way his long fingers curl around the page sends a chill down your spine. You start thinking about the things those hands could probably do, and you press your legs together so that you can try to ignore the warm feeling that was starting to build. I have to be professional! Behind him you could see a discarded tie and a suit jacket that was probably on him at some point of the day. I wonder how intense his last meeting had to be in order for him to start stripping. What would have happened if it had continued? You’re interrupted by your thoughts once again by him speaking.

“So it looks like here that your first year in the Sports Festival you only had made it into the calvary battle, your second year you had only made it passed the first round in the battle tournament and then this year you finally managed to place 2nd. While I will say you’ve improved a lot, how do I know that what you did this year at the Festival wasn’t just a fluke and that you are actually talented enough to be one of my sidekicks?” He places the file down on the table looking up at you with one brow quirked. You pause in shock but shake out of it, not to sure why you were shocked though, he’s the 2nd best hero so of course he’d only accept the best in as his sidekick. You looked down at your lap but quickly brought it up when you heard him clear his throat.

“Well I-I think t-that it shows just how m-much I have improved over my time at UA and h-how much I more I could improve at your a-agency.” you stutter under his intense stare. Get it together! I press my hands together and hold the edge of your skirt trying to calm yourself.

“Yet I’m not the only company you’re interested in interning with am I?” He questions you while standing up from his desk. As he walked around to front of his desk he continued talking, “Your first choice was with that damn nerd. So tell me, why should I take you in if your showing such interest in him?” He sits in front of you on the edge of his desk. You took a deep breath in so that you could get your next sentence out with some form of confidence, even if you had to fake it.

“I actually was originally only interested in trying to get and internship here, as I think that I would be able to develop my quirk and fighting skills better here. But it wouldn’t have been smart to keep my options so limited so I made sure to check out his agency as well, seeing as he’s the Number One-” you quickly got interrupted by a loud slam causing you to let out a squeal.

“Don’t- Fucking- Say- It. It’s bad enough I gotta hear it all over the news and from the idiot himself. I’m not going to be hearing it again and that gonna be your only warning.” Crimson eyes glare into you. You swallow the lump in you throat and squeeze your thighs harder together, suddenly getting very warm. He takes in a deep breath as to calm himself down. He pauses before going to ask his next question. 

“Can you explain your quirk a little bit” he looks back, running his hand through his hair, waiting for you response.

“Oh yeah. My quirk is called Atmokinesis. I’m able to control weather but after some intense training I’m starting to be able to work on the individual elements that go into each type of weather. So far I’m really good with lightning, water and air but I think I struggle most with the raw power behind fire, which is why I thought it’d be really good for me to intern here seeing how good you are with controlling your explosion quirk.” you explain to him and you see him start to smirk at the indirect complement.

“Well you fucking got that right.” he scoffed “What made you want to become a hero?” he asked. It sounding like these where prewritten questions used on everyone who sat in this chair. You laugh a little and respond

“I feel like my reason is the same as most. When I was little I was obsessed with All Might and I always told my parents that I was going to be just like him. They pushed me toward that dream and helped me along the way. Although I will say when All Might had to retire I think is when I made up my mind for sure. I knew that the world was going to need more heroes out there to replace the symbol of peace.” I smile a little thinking back to the fond memories of my childhood. and continue “but then again I guess he’s sorta been replaced huh? Seeing as how Deku has such a similar power to the great hero-”

“I thought I fucking warned you about talking about him” your eyes snap to his crimson ones as you realized what you had said. The anger on his face prevalent from hearing about the status of his rival.

“I-I’m so sorry I-I didn’t mean to I swear I had just forgot about-” 

“Shut up” His voice cuts you off. You look down at my lap hoping to avoid his gaze. I just blew this interview. He leans up from his desk and walks over to your chair.

“Stand up, I’m going to show you something” his voice much deeper than It was just moments before making your knees week. You look up at him in confusion but realize he was probably kicking you out. You stand up, your head hung low as you go to reach for your bag when you’re stopped by his hand grabbing your wrist. You go to look up but when you do he starts leading you toward the door. As you go to start apologizing again he stops you both at a display case that was next to his door. 

“What do you see” He lets go of your wrist and takes a step behind me so that I can get a proper look at the case. 

You look and see a key to the city that is given to each of the top 10 heroes, A few trophies for various achievements and a lot of medals from his time at UA. On the wall next to the case you could see various newspaper clippings from major accomplishments he achieved. Top ten most successful 20 year old's, his first appearance in the newspaper, his first solo debut, and many more including some of his most difficult wins.

“What you see there is the work of a real hero not some god damn wanna be you got that?” you jump as you feel his hot breath against your ear, you shiver as chills cover your arms. You turn around to face him and start backing up when you notice how close we are.

“I’m really sorry sir, I really didn’t mean to bring Deku back up, I had just gotten carried away and I-” you look back when your back hits the wall next to the display case. But your head quickly whips back around when you feel heat in front of you. You let out a gasp as his hands slam on the wall on either side of your head. His head dipping into the crook of your neck.

“You better listen to me now. The only name that’s going to be coming out of those pretty little lips of yours is mine... you got that princess?” your eyes widen when you hear his request. His lips trail along your neck the warm sensation making you whimper. He continues moving around as if looking for something.

“I don't understa-” a moan slips out as he kisses a certain spot on your neck. You feel him smirk against your neck as he found what he wanted. His hands move front the wall, one finding there way to you hip, the other to the door right next to you and you hear it click. He locked it. He moved back up to you ear and growled

“Don’t think I didn’t see you earlier, checking me out and squeezing your thighs, this is probably exactly what you were thinking of, isn’t that right. I want you to tell me what it was that was going through that dirty little mind of yours.” your body shakes and you’re left there speechless, but you try to pull yourself together.

“I was thinking about your h-hands and how your long fingers curve a-and the things you could do with them.” you stutter as you feel his hands travel further down and start to hike up your skirt as you tell his about your lewd thoughts, his hands assaulting your thighs, sliding his rough hands up them toward your now throbbing core. You let out a moan when his thumb rubs against your clothed clit, damp with your own slick.

“Look at you, soaking wet just thinking about me. dirty little slut. I haven't even done anything to you yet you’re all ready for me.” He pushes aside your underwear and runs his finger up your core, gathering it all on his finger. “so fucking wet” he groans against your neck more to himself.

He digs his finger knuckle deep into you causing you to gasp but it’s quickly cut off by his mouth meeting yours. His tongue entering you mouth to prove to you his dominance. He slowly starts pumping his finger in and out, catching you by surprise when you feel his second finger stretch you out. Every time his finger enters you, you can feel him curl it up too hit your spot. A breathy moan leaves your lips as you feel a knot start to build in your core.

“Fu-uck Bakugou” you let out as you feel the tingling sensation start to take over your body, your hands traveling up to his hair so you could have something to grab onto.

“Call me Katsuki” He smirks at you increasing his speed of his assault on you, knowing how close you are. Just as you felt yourself almost come undone he pulls his fingers out making you let out a whine at the loss of contact. You felt so empty and you knew you needed him to fill you up.

“P-please Katsuki I need you” you mewl moving your head to his jaw, kiss down to his neck stopping right underneath his ear. You pause when you hear him let out a groan. You start to lick and nibble at the spot needing to hear that sound come out of him again. “I want to feel you fill me up”

“Fuck that's it, jump” His hand on the back of your thighs. You do as he says and jump, rapping your legs around his hips, his hard on pressed against you. You shuttered at the size of it, even through his pants you could tell just how big it was. You brought your mouth back to meet his as your tongues battle for dominance, this kiss so much more passionate than before.

He walks the two of you over to his desk placing you down on it. Your hands make their way from his hair to his shirt to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. You place your hand on his chest feeling his muscles while his hands move up from you thighs to the edge of your shirt. You comply with his silent demand by taking of your shirt while he undoes the clip on your bra causing the garments to fall to ground. He pulls you off the desk.

“Turn around for me” You look him in the eyes, confusion all over your face. “Did I fuckin stutter? Now be a good girl and do as your told.” you immediately turn around, feeling his hands go to the zipper of your skirt pulling down, taking his time to squeeze your ass as he passes it. His hands suddenly leave your body as he whispers in your ear “There you go, close your eyes and don't move okay babygirl.” 

You hear his foot steps leave you and you hear rustling from somewhere in his office. It goes quiet and you were about to open your eyes when a pair of hands grab your wrists and pull them behind your back. You open your eyes as you feel a soft fabric get tied around them. You turn around to see Katsuki wrapping his discarded tie that you saw earlier. Him biting his lip focusing on knotting it tight. You feel him put his hand on your back and push you against his desk. Pressed against your back his breath hits your ear.

“I want to hear you beg for me, I’m going to have you screaming for me to stop. When I’m finished with you, you’re not even going to remember that damn nerd’s name, I can promise you that.”

He roughly pulls down your underwear and goes to remove his own pants and boxers. You hear ruffling of plastic and look back to watch him slide on a condom, slick running down your legs as you get a view for how massive he was. He aligns his tip with your entrance rubbing it up your folds gathering your juice.

“So wet, just for me”  he groans as he pushes himself inside of you. You let out a loud moan as he fills you up, your eyes tearing up as he stretching you out. “F-fuck you’re so tight Y/N”

“P-please Kat-suki move, I-I need more” That aching feeling returning to your core. 

“Ask and you shall receive” He pulls out of you and then slams back into you, only slowly moving at first before picking up his speed. His hips hitting your ass as he fill you out, every thrust making your knees week. All you wanted to do was run his hands through his hair, run them down his back, hold his arms, touch every inch of him, but his tie restricted you adding to your neediness. You whimper as his hand comes down on your ass, a warm sting traveling across your cheek.

“I-I’m getting cl-close, can I please t-touch you?” Barely able to form your sentence due to the pure pleasure overwhelming your body.

“I don’t know if a dirty slut like you deserves it” He lets out an almost animalist growl.

“I promise I’ll behave j-just P-PLEASE” the last part of your sentence coming out louder from him slamming into you hard and stopping.

“Well when you say it like that..” His hand moves to your wrists untying them while still giving you shallow thrusts. You aren’t even able to wrap your head around how he’s still able to keep up such a pace. You’re taken out of your trusts when he flips you over so you can now see his flushed face, hair sticking to his forehead as he stares into your eyes. You are quick to throw your hands into his hair and connect your lips. Tongues fighting for dominance as you pull on his hair at the nape of his neck making him let out a deep moan. He presses you back down against his desk and slams himself back into you. Now it was your turn to let out a moan. You wrap your legs around his waist, allowing his to get deeper in you.

“F-FUCK” He slams into your G-spot hard and you know that at this rate you wont last long. And by the way you clench around him, Katsuki knew that too.

“Oh you like it like that? Fuck- filling you up like this? You take me so well princess, it’s like your pussy is made just for me” He’s kissing your neck desperately wanting to hear you scream out his name.

“Ooh Katsuki I’m-” the intense heat building up in your core becoming almost to much.

“Cum for me baby girl” he purrs into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive neck. Hearing his deep voice say that sent you over board, Lightning shooting up from your toes to your core, spreading out from there. A loud moan leaves your mouth as euphoria rushes over your body. His trusts start to get sloppy watching you fall apart beneath him.

“F-fuck Y/N” He groans out your name as he comes undone as well, his seed spilling out into the condom, feeling the warmth through the thin plastic.

He pulls out of you as you both attempt to catch your breath. He leans down to you mouth giving you a kiss, much different from earlier sending butterflies to your stomach as you feel the passion in this kiss instead of just lust. He breaks the kiss to remove the piece of plastic and put on his clothes and you do the same. You start fixing your hair as you stand infront of where his desk is flustered by what just happened. You look up, your eyes meeting his crimson ones as he smiles at you. You return a shy smile back at him before looking toward the floor. He walks over to you and lifts your chin up with his finger. A smirk on his face as he says

“Your internship starts on Monday. Don’t be late.”

[dramaqueeenamby]

Waves: The Dinner

A/N: Not a single soul asked for this, but I couldn’t shake the idea, so here we are. Let me know if you like Waves content where the twins are older or naw.

Words: 3.5K

Warnings: None

TAGS: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @missyperle @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar​ @valkryienymph​ @letsshamelessqueen-m​ @liquorlaughslove​ @lettytheletdown​ @hello-therree​ @missdforever​ @mani-lifes​ @toni9​ @koko-michelle

Waves

“You ask him.”

“Me?”

“No. Doggy. Yes, you, dummy.”

Elysha ignored the insult and settled for her initial follow-up question. “Why me?”

“Because he likes you better.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed, reaching to steal one of Emmett’s pretzels. She scowled, however, when he snatched it from her and swallowed it whole. “Creep.”

“Lee, you know the rules.” The twins neglected to hide their surprise when Christopher sauntered into the kitchen, a faux stern expression on his face. “No bullying each other when the other person can hear it.” 

While Elysha smirked, Emmett rolled his eyes and muttered, “told you.”

Christopher chuckled and walked to the fridge, leaning over to pull out the pack of meat he’d pulled from the freezer the night before. “So, I take it you don’t want us to go to the dealership this weekend, eh?”

As Emmett’s eyes lit up with excitement, Elysha groaned and crossed her arms. “Papa, that’s not fair. Why is it he gets a new car and I don’t?”

“Because your brother held up his end of the bargain, while you, my beautiful little girl, did not,” Christopher reminded, handing the meat to Emmett who placed it on the counter and waited for his dad to reach him the rest of the ingredients. He checked the time on his Apple watch and mentally cursed. Damn, it was already time for dinner.

Elysha was seconds away from pouting and stomping. “Papa, I saved up money, too.”

“Yes, you did,” Christopher agreed, closing the fridge with a bottle of beer in one hand. “And you spent it all on a pair of boots.”

“But they were Gucci!”

“Good luck driving Gucci to school next week.”

“Shut up, Emmett!”

“What did I just say about bullying?” Christopher lectured as he instructed Emmett to hand him the stainless steel skillet. “Not when the other person can hear it.” A beat. “And you’ll be driving your sister to school, mate, so don’t be too smug.”

Elysha rolled her eyes and caught the way Emmett nodded his head in their father’s direction, eyes widening to convey the unspoken but urgent message.

Do it now!

Clearing her throat, she sauntered over to the counter where her father was starting to prep, hopping up, and earning a sideway glance.

“You’re lucky your mom’s not here,” he murmured, failing to tell her to get down. “Alright, what is it and how much is it gonna cost me?”

She shrugged casually. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Christopher wasn’t even trying to hide his disbelief. “Elysha, do I need to call our lawyer?”

“Papa,” she interjected with the sweetest smile that she could muster. “Emmett and I were wondering, if, well-” She took a deep breath while playing with her fingers. “We want to invite two people over for dinner.”

Christopher looked over at the meat. “How much do you think they’ll eat?”

“Not tonight,” Emmett interjected. “Maybe this Friday?” He took a deep breath, scratching the back of his neck. “And it’s not just any two people, dad. It’s….the two people we’re talking to.”

Deep down, Christopher knew what his kids were trying to tell, err, ask him. However, if he wasn’t anything else, he was stubborn and could play the hell out of the obtuse role. “Jesus, all the people you have in my house for parties and you mean to tell me you two only talk to two of them?”

“No, papa, he means talking to, as if, ya know, dating.” A beat. “And mama said this is her house, you’re just a renter.”

“What? When did she say--never mind.” He could come back to that. One problem at a time. “So, why invite them over for dinner? Why not just throw another party you think your mother and me won’t find out about?”

Emmett ignored the sly remark about the parties. His dad was right. “Because we actually want you guys to meet them.”

Christopher carried the bowl over to the sink, turning on the faucet. “Is that so?” He saw the kids nod out the corner of his eye and asked, “have you asked your mother about this?”

“Not yet,” Elysha answered. “We figured we’d ask you first since you actually do all the cooking.”

“And because we were also hoping you could ask her for us.

“See, push long enough, and the truth always comes out from you two.” As the twins exchanged nonverbal communication, Christopher pondered their question. In the long line of expensive and wild things his kids had requested over the years, this was relatively tame, and it would cost nothing. Nothing monetary, at least. “Fine. Friday at 5. I’ll talk to your mother.”

“Seriously?” Elysha didn’t want to give him time to rethink his answer. Hopping off the counter, she gave him a tight side hug. “Thank you, papa. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled dismissively, seconds before Elysha buzzed out of the kitchen to call Jason and tell him that they were on.

“Thank you, dad.” Emmett kept it brief, squeezing his dad’s shoulders while sliding his phone out his pocket to see if Madi could Facetime when Christopher called out.

“Where are you going, mate? It’s your night to help me fix dinner.”

“But--”

“Unless you want to switch shifts with your sister, so you clean and she helps.”

He could have put up a fight, but considering Christopher had already agreed to both the dinner and talking to Summer for them, Emmett realized he had to pick his battles.

“What do you need me to do?”

------

“What are they even doing dating in the first place? They should be focused on school.”

“Babe, they’re straight A Honor Roll students.”

“Well, then, their sports.”

Summer sighed, securing the silk scarf around her edges. “Both are captains.”

“Work with me here, Elsa.”

She looked at him through her vanity mirror, eyebrow raised. “You want my help?” Standing up, she sauntered over to her husband, placing her arms around his waist. “Let it go, Kristoff.”

“Summer, our children are in the middle of a teenlife crisis. This is no time for games.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed him away, going to remove the decorative pillows from their bed. “Most parents would kill to have their kids let them know who they’re dating--”

“They’re not dating them. They’re talking.”

“--Our kids are inviting them over just so they can meet us, and you’re upset?” Hearing it aloud made her laugh. “Baby, people are dying. Find something else to grow gray hairs over.”

Christopher paused, watching her peel back her side of the blankets and climb in. “That’s low, swimming pool. Even for you.” A beat. “Maybe they’re being blackmailed.”

Summer sighed as he finally joined her in bed. She moved her body across the mattress, pressing herself into his side as he wrapped his arms around her. “You need a hobby.”

“How can I enjoy life when my children are suffering?”

“Oh my god.” Summer sat up in the bed and forced him on his back, climbing on top of him, hands restricting his wrist. “Christopher, the kids are alright. You, however, I am starting to worry about.” Any trace of humor depleted as she frowned while caressing his cheek, fingers playing with the hair of his beard. Scruffy Christopher was always her favorite. “Our babies are growing up, babe. We can’t stop it, no matter how much we may want to. We just have to be there for them, be supportive of them, so long as they’re not hurting themselves or anybody.” She moved her index finger to his mouth to silence him. “You will be fine, sir.”

He sighed, gently moving her hands up and down her sides. “How can you be so calm about this?”

“Oh, I’m imploding on the inside,” she admitted casually, lowering herself so her lips grazed his. “But, I’m also an EGOT winner, baby.” She moved her mouth to his ear, giving a slight tug with her teeth. “I can fake anything.”

Summer yelped when he switched so that his body was over his. “Not anything.”

------

“This is a bad idea. A terrible idea.”

Emmett looked over at Madi who was currently looking into her compact mirror, applying another unnecessary layer of mascara. She caught him looking and motioned to the road. “Focus.”

Emmett rolled his eyes and reached over, placing a hand on her lap. “Would you relax? They’re going to love you.”

“That’s easy for you to say. They’re your parents.” She leaned her head against the car window, mindful of her bun. It wasn’t easy fighting box braids in a bun, and she surely did not have time to do a redo. “You don’t get it. Your parents are….you freaking mom is….she’s my idol. She’s every little black girl’s idol, and now I’m just supposed to walk up to her, extend my hand, and say, ‘Hi, Mrs. Hemsworth. I worship you. Also, I’m dating your son.”

Emmett shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” Madi reached over and shrugged him when Emmett grabbed her hand and brought it to her mouth. “I promise it’s going to be fine.”

She sighed, leaning back and looking at him while she gently asked. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled. “Do what?”

“Make me feel better so easily.”

Emmett smiled and winked. “I got my daddy’s charm.”

Madi smirked and lowered the armrest. “You also have his car.”

Emmett sucked his teeth. “I’m getting mine soon.” She laughed. “I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are, baby. I’m sure you are.”

------

“Are you insane, Elysha?”

She sighed, switching out her textbooks. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Jason’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he stared down at her. “Your dad is going to kill me. That’s the big deal.” Elysha laughed, checking the time on her watch. Being late for class was a pet peeve of hers. There was no excuse. “Oh, I’m glad you find my upcoming murder funny. Why don’t you just livestream it, too?”

“You are completely overreacting,” she sighed, shutting her locker and keeping her hand flat on the locker. “My dad isn’t like that. He’s super chill.”

“Chill?” He repeated her term while accepting the books she handed him so that she could adjust her uniform top. “I’m sorry, but have you seen your dad? He’s freaking huge.”

Sighing, she relieved him from the books after being satisfied with her tie. “Okay, and?”

As she began to walk, Jason kept the same pace with her, lowering his voice so that the other students couldn’t overhear. “Wait, are your uncles going to be there too? Fuck. I’m so screwed.”

While she understood his concern, she couldn’t help but find the whole thing humorous. Everyone seemed to believe her dad’s size meant he was a holy terror when it was the complete opposite. “Jason, my uncles are even more chill than my dad. Trust me.”

“On your mom’s side too?”

She laughed. “Oh no, they’re all crazy.” Elysha placed her arm around his waist when he moved his around her. “No, I promise my parents are going to love you, and that includes my dad.”

“I’m the first guy you’ve ever introduced to them, huh?” Her silence didn’t help. “Even better.”

She stopped walking, forcing him to do the same. Naturally, people walked around them, no one wanting to interrupt one of the “it” couples on campus. “Look, Jason, if you don’t want to do this, then you don’t have to. I just-I just wanted you to meet my parents, because I want them to know about you.”

“Stop,” he interrupted, shaking his head and cupping her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just, I really like you, and I just-I want to make the best first impression that I can.” He dropped his hands, taking hers in his. “I want them to know how crazy I am about their daughter.”

She smiled, looking down to hide her bashfulness, only for him to bring his finger under her chin. He matched her smile. “What time do you want me to be there?”

------

“They’re here!”

Summer and Christopher shared a look, his sigh of exasperation forcing her to walk over to him, placing her hands on his chest. “Be nice.”

“I’m letting them in my house, aren’t I?” Summer slapped his arm, forcing him to relent. “Fine. I’ll be fair. For now.”

“There will be no embarrassing stories or threats of violence issued, do I make myself clear?” Summer wagged her finger and turned away, purposely switching her hips, hiding her smirk when her husband slapped her ass and whistled.

“Mama! Papa!”

“Coming,” Summer called out, speeding up her pace as she made her way out the study and down the hall, allowing a kind smile to grace her face as she was met with her children and their friends.

Elysha was the first to speak, clearing her throat. “Mama, this is--”

“Jason,” she guessed, withholding her laugh when Elysha seemed surprised, while Summer pointed to the tall young man with striking green eyes and dark brown hair that grazed past his ears. Strangely enough, he reminded her of Christopher in some of the family albums she’d been shown during one of the many family dinners with her in-laws.

“I told you I have eyes in the back of my head.” Jason gave a nervous laugh that prompted her to take it easy on him. He seemed terrified.

Finally, he spoke, giving a weak clearing of his throat.. “Yes ma’am. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Elysha cleared her throat, reminding him about the flowers in his hands. “I’m sorry. These are for you.”

“Thank you.” Her smile widened as she sniffed them. “Gardenias. One of my favorites.”

He seemed relieved by that information, prompting her to turn to the young wide eyed girl who also looked as though she was close to passing out.

Emmett took advantage of the opportunity to introduce Madi. Summer smirked when she saw he had his hand on the small of the young lady’s back. “And mama, this is-”

“Madi.” Again, Summer was correct and almost offended by the surprise on their faces. “Do ya’ll not believe me when I tell you that I know everything?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s so nice to meet you as well--”

“--Madi.”

“--I love you.”

They spoke at the same time. Summer laughed and placed her hand on Madi’s shoulder who was clearly mortified by her unintentional confession.

“I mean--I don’t--I mean, I do, but….” Madi shut her eyes and quietly murmured, “I’ll just shut up now.”

Summer shook her head, never once dropping her friendly smile.

“You both need to relax. I promise you have nothing to be nervous about.” She nodded in the direction of the dining room. “Come on.” Summer guided the four to the room, stepping aside to allow them to enter while she turned around to direct them to their seats when Christopher finally decided to make his presence known.

“Sorry about that.” He rubbed his hands on the towel in his hands before tossing it over his shoulder. He approached Madi first. “Madison?”

She was clearly awestruck, eventually shaking her head to accept her handshake. “Please, call me Madi, Mr. Hemsworth. It’s so nice to meet you.”

He waved her off and smiled. “Chris is fine.” That smile dimmed when his eyes landed on Jason. “Hello.”

Elysha grabbed his hand, giving a light squeeze. “Papa, this is Jason.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason,” Christopher forced, squeezing Jason’s hand tighter than necessary but just enough to get his message across. “You play any sports, mate?”

“No. I mean, yes--basketball.” He swallowed deeply, remembering something else. “I also surf as well, Chris.”

“Mr. Hemsworth will be fine,” he corrected.

Summer rolled her eyes and shoved him. “Pay him no mind. Ya’ll sit down and make yourselves comfortable.”

“I’m sure you already have, though.” Christopher joked, earning a glare from Summer. “Come on, babe. No one throws a party like the twins.” A beat. “Speaking of, I’d say we could give you a tour, but I’m sure you both already know your way around.”

“Ignore him,” Summer interjected, shooting him a glare. “He’s still upset that you kids are able to throw a party better than we ever could when we were your age.”

That seemed to alleviate more of Jason’s nerves. “You used to party, Mrs. Hemsworth?”

“Boy,” she laughed. “If you don’t call me Summer.” Elysha smiled up at him, giving him a slight squeeze of his hand. “And what do you mean used to?”

Madi was also fully invested in the conversation, her fangirling almost impossible to contain. “You really are even nicer in person.”

“Don’t be fooled. It’s all an act.” Christopher interjected, walking over to pull the chair out for her. He noticed how Jason did the same for Elysha, and of course, Emmett with Madi.

“Ignore him. He’s actually hired help.”

Summer and Christopher shared a look as he rolled his eyes while murmuring. “Cute.” Sitting in his own seat, he jumped into the questions. “So, kids, tell us about yourselves.”

Madi and Jason shared a look when he told her to go first. Again, something else Christopher noticed.

“Well, I’m a junior, an only child, and my dad is in the Navy--”

“So, your family is stationed here?” Summer surmised.

“Yes ma’am.” Christopher and Summer exchanged a look, but unlike the previous ones, this was not a warning from wife to husband. This one was of silent concern. Madi wasn’t an Australian native. She would eventually return to the states. Both mother and father quietly wondered if that was something Emmett was taking into consideration.

After briefly discussing the shared commonalities of having active duty family members, Christopher turned the question back to Jason. “And what about you, young man?”

Summer contained her sigh at the way his eyes widened before he tentatively spoke. “Well, sir--”

“Chris is fine.”

Both Summer and Elysha looked over at that last statement, Summer with a smirk and Elysha with a small smile. Chris looked at his daughter and shot her a wink.

Jason, to Summer’s happiness, seemed thrilled by the stripping of the formal address.

“I, well, my family is originally from Melbourne--”

“Melbourne native, eh?”

“Yes, sir. My, uh, dad got a job up here when I was eight, and we’ve been here ever since.”

“Any siblings?”

Jason chuckled. “Believe it or not, two. I’m the middle child.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Christopher shrugged. “I’d say we’re the best.”

“Elysha and Madi.” Summer stood up and nodded to the kitchen. “Help me prepare the toss salad.”

“Yes ma’am.” Elysha also stood up and shot a reassuring look to Jason while Emmett gave one to Madi as well. As soon as the ladies were in the kitchen and the swinging doors shut, Summer released a sigh of relief. “Finally, that was too much testosterone.”

Madi laughed. “You and Mr--Chris are really nice, Summer.”

Elysha nodded and playfully bumped Madi with her hip. “Told you they were chill. Even my dad is being surprisingly nice to Jason.”

“Ladies, trust me, if Chris didn’t really like either of you, he would let you know. He’s just giving Jason a hard time because Elysha is his little girl. He’s always going to be protective.” She reached the bowl to Madi while speaking. “Just how I’m protective of my little boy.” Madi’s smile dimmed. “So you can imagine how proud I am to see his amazing taste in women.” She winked and laughed when Madi placed her hand over her chest.

She straightened up and spoke truthfully. “I really do like Emmett, Summer. He’s….he’s amazing.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“Shut it, Elysha,” Summer warned with a small head shake. “You know, Madi, you should join Lee and me on one of our spa days.”

Her jaw dropped. “A-are you serious?” She looked at Elysha who seemed just as thrilled by the idea of a spa day with her mom and good friend.

“Of course, and Emmett told me you’re in theater with Lee, so if you ever need any advice or have any questions, I’m always available.”

“I’m going to pass out.”

Summer laughed and gave Madi a side hug. “Welcome to the family, Ms. Madi.”

Just as Elysha and Madi shared excited squeals, Emmett stuck his head in the door.

“Mama, ya’ll almost done?”

“Boy, don’t rush us.”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry, mama, it’s just that Uncle Liam is here--”

“What?” She interrupted, hand on her hip. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“I don’t know, but dad just asked Jason how he feels about weekly, random drug tests.”

“Christopher!”

[whitexwingedxdoves]

a love like war | part two

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/her Warnings: Language Summary: Sequel to The Other Side: It seems like Negan’s efforts to win you back are too hard to fight off. A/N: I had so much fun with this sequel <3 Again all the thanks goes to @jinxeee <3 Tags: @aubageddon91  @phoenixblack89 @chloe-skywalker​ @srhxpci @browneyes528​

Read part one here.​​

When you arrived back at Alexandria, Daryl wasn’t best pleased when he saw you with Negan. In fact that night he gave you a lecture on how you should have found a way to tell him. You could barely even think for yourself that night, all you could think about was what Negan had said to you but you realised quickly that it was a dangerous territory for you to be in. You had come to the conclusion that you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that again, you’d do your very best to stay clear of the ex leader.

Michonne had taken it upon herself to join Daryl in a hunt leaving you with babysitting duties, Judith had gone off to work on her homework and RJ seemed content playing in the street, you watched him dance around the street giggling at the story he had made up in his head from the kitchen window, it was the first time since the hoard that you felt at ease. You turned away for just a second to place down your empty glass and when you returned to the window, RJ was much further down the road crying. It looked like he had fallen over and hurt himself which only panicked you, you took off running out of the house and in his direction.

Before you made it to RJ’s side you noticed the very man you had been avoiding bent down by his side, making the child smile and forget about the scrap on his knee. You could feel all the muscles in your body tense as you slowed your pace, your heart was racing as you made your way to the boy’s side. You noticed Negan rubbing his hand over the graze that now occupied the child’s skin reminding him it was nothing and just a bump. He managed to calm RJ down completely as you bent over to check on him. “What happened buddy?” your voice was soft and calm as you reached your arms out to the boy, instantly he clung onto you in the form of a hug.

“Little fella just had a fall” Negan now spoke, nudging RJ gently before sending him a wink “but you’re alright now, aren’t ya?” RJ seemingly turned shy and nodded at the question.

Your head only seemed to grow foggier as you watched the way Negan interacted with the toddler, your heart seemed to swell at the sight “Thank you” you whispered to the tall man as you both rose to your feet. He shrugged off your appreciation as if his actions didn’t require a thanks.  “You know its cheating when you use the kids too get me to forgive you” though you passed it as a joke, you felt it fully, you couldn’t believe a simple act of kindness towards a child would almost make you forget the torture you endured at the hands of the man. Negan simply laughed at your words allowing his tongue to guide his bottom lip between his teeth. You looked down at RJ letting him back down on his feet now that he seemed confident enough to brave walking again. “Thank you, again” your eyes now met with Negan’s again and he sent you a sincere smile. You’re not sure why but you stood on the tips of your toes and gave him a small kiss on his cheek and turned away from him following RJ back down the street. You instantly regretted your actions, a moment of weakness on your behalf only confirmed Negan’s plans to win back your heart were slowly working.

You gave it a lot of thought and now that Daryl had gone to Hilltop to help out some more up there, you decided to give Negan the benefit of the doubt. You told Gabriel you were willing to take your share of shifts on ‘Negan watch’ though you weren’t fully ready to forgive him for what he had done, he had proven his willingness to change and that seemed like enough to build some sort of friendship with him and start your healing process.

The shifts went well, not once did he ever say anything out of place or make you feel uncomfortable. He’d ask you about your day and offer you a joke about his, you got on fairly well for the first two days. You had mentioned to him that Judith was struggling with her math work and he offered to help with your supervision. You’d take her to the cell and let her ask him questions and laugh whenever she responded to him with nothing but pure sass. When she had finally had enough of her work, Judith took off leaving you alone with Negan.

You unlocked his cell door and asked him to hold out his hands so you could shackle him. “Thank you for that “ you giggled, taking his hands in yours and clasping the handcuffs on. You were taken back slightly when your skin touched his but you didn’t let it show.

“She sure has an attitude” he allowed a chuckle of his own pass as he looked down at you, your eyes slowly met with his and it caused instant tension. It confused you how he still had such a hold on your heart despite all the horrible things he put you through. You barely noticed his eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips. When he slowly lowered his head that when you pulled away, pushing on his chest a little to make him stand further back into his cell.

“What the fuck!” you shouted in his direction, your breathing seemed to become short as you tried to piece together what just happened.

“Im sorry, I thought-“ you cut him off instantly, the anger quickly bubbling to the surface.

“You thought what? You thought that just because you helped a kid with their math homework I’m gonna instantly forget what you did to me?” He hung his head in shame as you scolded him. “You can’t just pull that shit! It’s not fair! Every time I see you, there’s always some new attempt to get me to forgive you but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter how much I love you, it’s never going to change the fact that you broke me. I can’t trust you” tears now streamed down your face like a constant flowing body of water.

“I’ll never stop” Negan shouted back at you, your face starting to crease as he spoke. “I won’t stop until I make it right, until I make it up to you. You’re the only thing that matters now.” His words managed to take away your ability to breathe. Your stomach felt as though there was a large pit that occupied it, shaking your head you turned away from him and ran out of the room, ignoring any stares you seemed to attract as you made your way down the street. You tried your best to mask the emotion that spilled from your eyes but the wet tracks on your face gave you away.

-

 You found yourself sitting in one of the newer buildings, people often gathered there for prayer and though your faith had been tested by the new world, you seemed drawn to it. You sat on one of the many chairs available and admired the woodwork of the beams that supported the room, you thought you were alone until you heard footsteps creeping up behind you. You turned to meet their maker and were met with the priest himself, you gave him a soft smile before turning your attention back to the beams. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you in here” Gabriel’s words were soft as he pulled up a seat next to you, you let a breathy laugh pass as you let your head hang a little “something on your mind?” what wasn’t on your mind, you looked over at the man sending him an obvious look.

“You could say that” you joked back pressing your lips into a thin line. “I’m not much of a believer but I think only a higher power can help me with the situation I find myself in”  you sighed to further prove the stress you felt. Gabriel let a small smile creep onto his lips before placing his hand on your shoulder and just like that you let everything out, you explained your situation with Negan and how confused you felt by his recent pass. You’re not sure how Gabriel made you feel safe enough to trust him with your honesty but he did and he did it well.

He allowed the information to settle for a moment before a sigh of his own passed his lips “anyone who is given the chance can change” you weren’t convinced of his words, you knew people could change but you also knew that once someone had crossed a line, there was no going back and you were sure Negan crossed the line long ago. “You and I both know that a second chance can go a long way, maybe Negan deserves one too but only you can decide that ” Gabriel left you to your own thoughts after that, he figured he helped as much as he could. You stayed in your seat for a while thinking over the new advice you had been given, tears seemed to cloud your eyesight as you grew closer to your conclusion. Eventually you allowed yourself to leave the building, even though you weren’t fully convinced of your decision you made your way in the direction of Negan’s cell.

Negan was laid on his bed, staring up at the concrete wall when you made your way back into the room. He instantly pulled himself from the bed and made his way to the bars, he opened his mouth to talk but you cut him off before he had chance “I thought about, about you” at first your words came out as whisper, you seemed shy as you kept yourself close to the door but the way he looked at you in that moment made you sure this was the right decision. “I’m not sure how it will work, I mean your in prison for crying out loud” you bit down on your lip as you allowed your eyes to meet finally “but I can’t deny it anymore, I’ve tried to fight it, to bury it so deep that it can’t resurface but it always does. I don’t know why after the shit you put me through but I do, I love you” you tried to disguise the crack in your voice but at that point it didn’t matter, your feelings were now stripped bare and you felt naked as you stood before him. “I’m willing to at least try put it behind me, give you a second chance but if you do as much as put a toe out of line in anyway, I’ll make sure they keep you locked in this cell until you die” You stood your ground and did your best to stay stern but the wobble of your chin gave away your nerves.

Negan didn’t say a word he just nodded waiting for you to finish your speech but he still didn’t have a word to say. The room fell silent after that, you watched the former leader with tears in your eyes, noting how desperate he looked as he waited by the door of his cell for you. You were slow with putting the key in the lock and once you heard the sound that signalled it had unlocked your eyes met with his again, slowly you pulled back the metal bars until even he couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed through the bars and his hands engulfed your face, your heart felt like it was on fire when he touched you, your eyes flickered slightly at the pure euphoria your skin felt against his. It wasn’t long until his lips were entangled with yours, the way he attacked your lips like there was nothing else he wanted more made you let out a soft moan. It was like music to his ears. You allowed your hands to find the back of his neck as he let his hands slowly fall down your body and wrap around you to bring you closer to him. As he slowly pulled away from you, your eyes started to well up again. You pressed your head against his chest your hands clutching onto the fabric of his shirt “please don’t break me again”

[rafecameron]

super spies - r.c

Summary: In which reader follows her boyfriend to try and catch him cheating and Rafe tags along

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: This kinda sucks but im posting it anyways

*GIF is mine*

You were almost one hundred percent sure your boyfriend was cheating on you. You thought it, your friends thought it, but you needed some hard evidence before you broke up with his sorry ass. You didn’t want to throw a two year relationship down the drain over a misunderstanding, though the niggling in your stomach should be proof enough that you were right.

You text him asking him his plans for the day and he replies saying he’s staying home as he’s not feeling well. You already know this is a lie as you’re sat in your car staring at his car from across the road, you were parked close to the town centre. You supposed he really could be ill and he had stopped off to get some medicine, but you highly doubted it.

Getting out of your car you stuff your phone into your bag and head towards the shops, not sure where you would find him but determined to do so. You checked multiple shops, no sign of him in any of them. You sigh audibly to yourself, almost ready to give up before you catch a glimpse of him from across the road. You quickly duck into an alley way, poking your head round to watch where he was going, you saw him disappear into the cafe across the street.

Checking the coast was clear you bolt across the street, sneaking up to the cafe and poking your head round the corner of it to peek through the window, it’s busy inside but you can see him at the counter ordering. He didn’t look very ill to you. You glare through the window at him, watching him smile and chat to the girls behind the counter as he waits for his order, you could feel yourself getting more annoyed by the second. 

You were so engrossed on watching your boyfriends actions that you didn’t notice someone coming up behind you, their head practically touching yours before the finally spoke into your ear, “What are you doing?”

You sucked in a breath of air out of shock and spun round, glaring at the amused person behind you, “What the hell is your problem?” You yell at him, hand over your pounding heart, you quickly look back into the cafe hoping that your yelling hadn’t given away your position. Luckily your boyfriend didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Why are you sneaking around? You’re acting really weird.” Rafe laughs, hands in his shorts pockets as he waits for an answer.

You sigh running a hand through your hair, you quickly grab his arm and pull him out of view of the cafe window, “I’m watching my boyfriend.” You admit, not really sure why you were telling him the truth. Sure, you’d known him your whole life, he was your best friends brother after all, but that didn’t mean you should tell him about your cheating ass of a boyfriend.

Rafe raises an eyebrow at your confession, “That’s a bit stalkerish, don’t you think?” He asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“I guess,” You shrug, “But I need to see where he’s going.”

“Why?” Rafe asks, but you don’t have time to answer him as the cafe door swings open and your boyfriend appears, walking in the opposite direction with two coffee cups in his hands.

“Be quiet.” You warn the boy beside you as you head off in the direction your boyfriend was going, you could feel Rafe following behind, you hadn’t actually expected him to tag along.

“What are we? Super spies now?” Rafe laughs behind you but you just slap at his arm and shush him in annoyance.

You follow him into a small park on the outskirts of the town, keeping close to the tree line in hopes that he wouldn’t notice you and Rafe tailing him. You quickly put a hand out to stop Rafe walking as your boyfriend comes to a stop next to a bench, handing one of the drinks to a pretty blonde girl who was sat there. She stands up as he speaks to her pulling him into a hug. His free hand goes to her waist and he leans down and kisses her quick on the lips. 

Your jaw clenches in anger, gripping onto the strap of your bag harshly as you shoot daggers at the pair by the bench, “I knew it.” You said through clenched teeth.

“What a fucking asshole,” Rafe fumes from behind you, “You want me to go beat the shit out of him? Cause I will.”

You glare at them for a moment longer before turning to Rafe, eyes wet mostly from anger and frustration than from hurt, you shake your head. “He really isn’t worth it.” You reply, wiping a tear off of your cheek as you begin to head out of the park.

“You’re not even gonna confront him?” Rafe asks running up behind you, his hand rests lightly on your shoulder and you don’t have the energy to shrug it off.

“No, I’m not. Let him be happy with her, I’m over it.” You huff out, the tears on your face telling a completely different story.

“You don’t look over it.” Rafe comments, falling into step beside you.

“And what would you know about it?” You snap at him, finally pushing his hand off your shoulder.

“I know that there’s a pretty girl in tears beside me because of some absolute tool.” He states, putting his hand back on your shoulder but this time stopping you from walking, “You were right when you said he’s not worth it. He was never good enough for you.”

You scoff and shrug his hand off again, “You don’t have to be nice to me, Rafe. You don’t even know me, you’re talking shit.”

“I don’t know you?” Rafe raises his eyebrows at your statement, “I’ve known you my whole life, Y/N. I know that you spend Saturdays in Sarah’s room eating ice cream and watching shitty girls movies. I know that you broke your arm when you were seven falling off the swing in your garden. I know that when you’re sad and hurt you get angry like you are now. I also know that you’re one of the nicest people on this stupid island and you don’t deserve that asshole hurting you like this.”

You blink up at him, fresh tears falling from your reddening eyes, shocked that he paid any attention to you at all, “Rafe, I-“

“You don’t have to say anything. I get it, I’m your friends asshole older brother and you hate me, but I don’t want to see you like this.” Rafe sighs out.

You take a second to process his words before replying, “I don’t hate you, Rafe. I could never hate you.”

“Yeah? Well then why don't you let me try to cheer you up?” He suggests, smiling now which only served to pull a smile onto your own lips.

“Okay.” You nod, wiping your face free of the last of your tears and following Rafe out of the park which was now your least favourite place on the island.

“So what are we doing?” You ask him after walking in silence the whole way back to the town centre.

“I’m cheering you up.” Rafe states again, “Wait here.” Rafe pulls you to a halt and sits you down on a bus stop bench before disappearing.

You knew you should probably call Sarah and tell her exactly what’s happened, let her come and pick you up and comfort you, but for some reason you were a little excited to be spending the day with Rafe. It was probably best you didn’t tell Sarah about that part. Before long Rafe returned, handing you a cone of ice cream which caused your face to light up.

You took it from him, licking at the cold scoop on top, “This is my favourite flavour.” You state as you begin walking beside him.

“I know.” Rafe states matter of factly.

You eat your ice creams in silence as Rafe leads you to his truck, by the time you climbed into the passenger seat you had finished eating and were curious as to what you were doing next.

“So, what are we doing?” You ask, buckling yourself in and watching Rafe excitedly.

Rafe shrugs, “There’s a couple things we can do. Or I could show you somewhere, if you want?”

You furrow your brows slightly, “Show me somewhere?” You asks and Rafe just nods his head in reply, “Okay, show me.” You smile and nod.

You were expecting the drive to feel awkward, you’d never really been alone with Rafe for more than a few minutes and you were worried you wouldn’t have anything to talk about, but you were worrying for no reason. The Rafe with you today was a side of Rafe that you didn’t see very often. He was friendly and open and extremely funny. He had you in stitches in the passenger seat, making comments about the stupidest things just to hear you laughing.

You were almost upset when the truck came to a stop and it was time to get out, “I could drive round with you all day.” You admit, a slight blush on your cheeks at you confession.

“Well we can do that next then.” Rafe smiles as he climbs out of his truck.

The devastation from early this morning was completely gone from your mind as you followed Rafe, the area he had brought you to looked a little run down, somewhere between figure eight and the cut, not somewhere you expected Rafe Cameron would hang out. 

He reaches out and grabs your hand, “Watch where you’re stepping.” He warns you as he leads you off the path and into a wooded area, still gripping tightly onto your hand.

“Is this where you murder me and bury my body?” You ask playfully, eyes on the ground as you follow his steps so as not to fall over the many branches scattered across the floor.

“Am I that easy to read?” Rafe asks with a chuckle.

When Rafe’s feet stop walking in front of you you look up, peeking round from behind him, “Is this-wow.” You cut yourself off, fully stepping out from behind him, “This place is beautiful.” You comment, stepping in front of him to get a better look.

He’d brought you to the tiniest cove you had ever seen, the sand stretching no more than fifteen feet either way, rocks lining the edge of the sand and trees bunching together behind you. The ocean looked bluer her, like that pale blue water you imagine in exotic places and it lapped gently at the sand.

“How did you find this place?” You asked, finally turning away from the view to look at the boy behind you.

Rafe shrugs, “Needed to get away one day, somehow found this place. I come here whenever I need to be alone.” He admits.

“Thank you, for bringing me.” You smile, “I promise I wont keep turning up and ruining your peace.” You laugh gently.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Rafe admits, he moves to sit down in the sand and you follow suit, sitting beside him and looking out across the water.

“It’s so peaceful here, I can see why you come.” You mumble out, fingers burying themselves in the sand.

You spent the whole day in that cove with Rafe, laughing, messing around, having heart to hearts. You never imagined Rafe would have such a soft side to him, you were sure he would never want anyone else to find out.

“Are you cold?” Rafe asks, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side, you smile up at him appreciatively before looking back out across the ocean at the sun set, pink and orange glowing across the glittering water.

“Would you call me crazy if I said considering I caught my boyfriend cheating on me this morning I’ve had the best day ever?” You laugh softly at how stupid that sounded.

Rafe shrugged lightly, “I wouldn’t call you crazy. I’d just say you’ve learnt he was an ass who isn’t worth shit and moved on pretty quickly, it’s admirable.”

You look over at the boy sat next to you, “You think I’m admirable?” You ask.

Rafe’s eyes meet yours, the sunset casting an orange glow across his skin, “I think you’re incredibly strong, I always have.” Rafe admits.

You smile softly and don’t stop yourself when you feel yourself leaning forward, you rest a hand against his chest as your lips meet his. The kiss was soft and gently and didn’t last nearly as long as you would have liked it.

“I’m sorry-“ You start.

“Don’t me.” Rafe cuts you off, his hand coming up to the side of your face and pulling your lips against his again, this time with kiss was longer, his lips pressed against yours with more pressure. Before you knew it you were laid back against the sand, Rafe’s body hovering over yours as you got lost in the feeling of your lips together.

That’s how you spent the rest of the night, laying in the sand, pressing kisses against each others lips, noses, foreheads, cheeks. Lost in the feeling of each other and not caring about anything else, not needing anything more.

From that day onwards that became your spot. It’s where you held most of your dates, having picnics and drinks by the sea, it’s the first place you slept with Rafe and the first place you shared I love you’s and you couldn’t be more thankful to your ex for giving you the opportunity to let Rafe into your heart.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 2

Wordcount: 10,129

A/N:  I thought this part 2 would total up to 10k words, but when it hit 10k, I realised that I was only about 65 percent done. So based on the responses I got from tumblr, I decided to publish this first and then conclude the story later on!

TW:  mentions of r*pe, mentions of torture, mentions of drugging someone (??) , mental breakdowns, vulnerability, descriptions of anxiety

Also, HERE’S MY FAV MEMES!! I’m so sorry that I can’t tag respective meme creators, because I saved them on my phone and some of them I forgot to include your usernames!! I’M SO SORRY!!! And honest to god is wear there were more but i must have lost them im so sorry im so incompetent lmao

memeesss

You glanced at your phone.

It had already been a week in Hawaii with your friends, and Jason still hadn’t texted you.

Well, you should have expected it, really. Jason was a traumatised, mentally ill man who had been locked away for two years.

Of course he wouldn’t text you first.

You had contemplated texting him over the past few days, typing in an array of messages ranging from a simple “hey” to a whole paragraph, and deleting all of it without hitting send. Did he even switch the phone on? Was he surfing the internet? Or was the phone still there on the shelf where you had left it.

It was driving you crazy.

“Do you have a boyfriend we don’t know about?” a voice called.

You looked up and squinted at the man who was standing up, looking down at you. You were sitting on the beach, a little further away from the ocean where your friends were.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as Alex plopped down next to you.

“You’ve been fidgety the whole time,” he pointed out, combing back his dark shoulder length hair with his fingers, getting sand in them. “We’re on a private beach, and you’ve been fussing over your phone. Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” you grumbled truthfully.

“The girls have been gossiping,” he gestured to the two other girls playing in the water. Your closest friends. It was four of you in that inseparable group.

“Of course they have,” you groaned, “Tell them to SAY IT TO MY FACE, COWARDS!”

You shouted at them, earning you grins and middle fingers from the distance.

“They’re saying you’re in love with someone,” he chuckled, “But they always say stupid shit like that without any evidence. But sometimes, a girl’s intuition is just right, ya know?”

“Stop beating around the bush, Alex,” you rolled your eyes at him despite knowing he couldn’t see past your sunglasses. “No, I’m not in love. I’m just waiting for a text that might never come.”

“Why don’t you text him first?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that!” you flailed your arms, “He’s… complicated. I can’t just text him anything.”

“Girl, unless he’s Mr. Nottingham, or related to you, then it really isn’t that complicated,” he joked.

“Ugh,” you groaned again, falling back onto the cloth you spread out. “Fine. I’ll text him.”

“Atta girl,” Alex grinned, “I’m gonna head back in the water. Join us after. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved.

Opening the text window for what had to be the thirtieth time, you finally decided to text him.

You: Miss me yet?

Staring intently at the small ‘sent’ below your message bubble, you waited for it to turn to ‘delivered’.

“Yes!” you hissed. It meant that Jason had indeed switched on the phone.

But after twenty minutes you realised that it didn’t matter if Jason switched on the phone if he didn’t want to talk to you. Cursing to yourself, you decided to join your friends in the water, hoping it’ll distract you from checking your phone every five minutes for a text message that might never come.

After an hour of actually spending time with your friends, all four of you returned to the villa, your mood elevated. Checking your phone, you could have jumped for joy when you saw not one, but four consecutive texts in a row.

Jason: Duck off. Jason: What the duck Jason: WHY CANT I SAY DUCK Jason: I DUCKING HATE THIS

You couldn’t let out a string of giggles.

“Oooh, lover boy texted you back, huh?” Alex peeked over your shoulder. “Gimme, I wanna mess with him.”

He snatched your phone from your hands, surprisingly swift and smooth for a civilian, raising it way above his head so you couldn’t reach it and opened the camera.

“Alex-!”

He threw his other arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his bare chest, crushing you before you could tackle him down. He snapped a picture and sent it.

You froze in horror.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I was just messing around,” he gave your phone back to you.

“You don’t- you don’t understand, you fucking asshole!” you screamed.

“I- I’m sorry,” Alex stuttered, surprised by your reaction. “I was just-”

“Fuck off!” you snapped.

Panicking, you saw the little notification below the picture turning from Received to Read.

No. No, no, no, no.

This was bad.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason by sending him photos of your activities, thinking that he might react badly to the sudden surplus of familiarity and sense of being close to someone. Now you were worried that he might start to push you away in fear, reverting back to how he was before, and months of progress would have been all for nothing.

He would probably start swearing at you, or worse- switch off the phone and reject any form of communication completely. You hurriedly texted a reply.

You: I’m so sorry! I didn’t send that, my friend was just messing around.

Expecting the worst, you braced yourself for the inevitable. Instead, he sent you:

Jason: Who the hell is that guy?? Jason: Why are you in your underwear??

Your mouth hung open as you stared in shock at the screen. Because you took so long to recover from the shock, he sent you another message.

Jason: ???

Snapping out of it, you texted back.

You: That’s just my friend. Sorry about that! And I’m not in my underwear, it’s a bikini! I’m in Hawaii.

You waited for him to reply, but ten minutes of you sitting anxiously on the turquoise sofa in the middle of the villa listening to the waves of the beach outside from the open doors passed by, and he still hadn’t.

Perhaps he’s busy- wait. There’s no way Jason would be busy. You tried to coax him into a conversation.

You: You can turn off your autocorrect if you want to swear without hassle. Go to your Keyboard settings.

You plopped your phone on the empty seat next to you and dried your hair.

“Ugh, come on!” complained Natalie, fully clothed and washed, walking towards the open concept kitchen from her room. “You’re getting sand everywhere!”

“Woops, my bad,” you grinned.

“There’s a shower outside on the porch for a reason you know,” she flipped her blond beach waves at you, looking through the fridge.

Alex stood quietly at the kitchen island, now scared to say anything.

You rolled your eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Okay, I promise!” he grinned.

Ding.

Jason: fuck. fuck. fucking fuck. Jason: found it. You: Proud of you, man.

You went to your room and showered, then dried off and put on fresh clothes while waiting for Jason to reply.

Of course, he never did.

Groaning, you had to remind yourself that he was not used to human interaction, and texting would come unnaturally to him. Which meant that you had to be the one to keep the conversation going.

You: Do anything interesting since I left?

You saw him typing almost immediately this time.

Jason: no.

Of course not.

You: Have you been eating properly? Jason: yeah.

God, it was so difficult. You were in the middle of typing something when he replied again.

Jason: yoire not my mom Jason: yoire Jason: YOIRE Jason: FUCK WHY CANR I TYPE

You felt guilty for laughing, but you did anyway.

You: Now that you switched off autocorrect, it won’t correct your typos and misspells anymore. Jason: i fucking knw that. Ive been gone for two yeard not twenty. You: Then why do you sound like a grandpa? Jason: BECAISE YOU GAVE ME A FUCKINF IPHONE!! I USED AN ANDROID!!

Now you were really laughing out loud, so you sent him a GIF of a woman rolling her eyes.

Jason: wtf you can send gifs throug text now?? You: Welcome to 2020, my dude. Jason: im not your fucking dude

Typing a reply, Jason interrupted you once again.

Jason: teach me how to do that

Smiling widely, you found that you couldn’t wait for the next week to pass by so you could go back and see him.

***

“How’s Jason?” you asked the minute you reached the Cave computers, panting from the run down.

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Dick chuckled, spinning towards you on the wheeled chair.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Bruce and Dick were in front of the computers, discussing a case that had connections to Bludhaven Police Department.

Gone for two weeks, you had a lot to catch up on.

“According to Alfred, he’s doing well,” Bruce answered, “Even started to ask for seconds last week. Now Alfred has been making portions for two.”

“He asked? For seconds?” you gasped. “How?”

“He left a note on the tray two days after you left. He’s been making meal requests, too. Texts Alfred in the morning to let him know.”

“Texted?!”

“Alfred slipped his number on the tray in case Jason wanted anything specific.”

“I slipped mine as well, but he hasn’t texted me yet,” Dick pouted.

“When did he start texting?” you ignored Dick.

“Last Sunday.”

So the same day you started texting him, then.

“He hasn’t texted me,” Dick sighed, looking dejected like a kid who was told Disneyland blew up.

“He’ll come around, Dick,” you offered him a smile, “I mean- he’s already texting Alfred!”

“Yeah,” he lamented.

“Okaaay, nice talk. I’m gonna go see him now, bye.”

You ran to the box, but stopped right before you opened the internal door. After checking your hair with your phone camera, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach.

Ugh, you were so fucked.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Jason’s muffled grunt answered you.

Pushing it open, your eyes immediately went to the bed only to find that he wasn’t lounging around reading a book like you expected. Instead, your mouth dropped open when you saw him on the floor, doing push ups.

Shirtless.

Jason had changed drastically during the two weeks you were gone. You noticed that he had definitely gained weight, as well as muscle mass.

“Uh, wh-what are you..?”

He stood up, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

His muscles were much more prominent and defined now, and he looked like he was going to achieve Dick’s physique if he kept it up for another month or two.

“Welcome back,” he simply said before taking gulps from a water bottle you definitely had not seen before.

“Thanks,” you walked over and sat on his bed, “I’m glad to see that you decided to start taking care of yourself again.”

“What, this? This isn’t for me.”

“Huh?” you cocked your head in curiosity.

“I… I lost a lot of muscle mass. My body- it isn’t how it used to be,” he frowned, “And I can’t have you lusting over it when it’s not at its peak.”

“What- what do you-?” you stammered, suddenly getting hot.

Jason merely smirked and then continued his push ups.

You watched as his developing muscles rippled, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glisten in the light. It was amazing how he had progressed so much in such a short period of time. You guessed that he must have just been occupying his days by working out.

No wonder he’s been asking for seconds.

“Enjoying the view?” Jason breathed, pausing with his arms straightened, his head angled upwards towards you.

“No, shut up,” you looked away.

“Here, be useful,” he started, “Sit on my back.”

“What?”

“I’ve gotten used to my own body weight, I need extra resistance,” he elaborated, “Come on, sit on my back.”

“But it’s all sweaty,” you whined, pretending to protest. Definitely pretending- for the sake of your own dignity.

You got up and went over towards him anyway.

Carefully, awkwardly, you sat on his back as you would a park bench. You rested your palms flat against his sticky skin to stabilise yourself. Suddenly, he dipped down without warning, earning a soft squeal from you.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” he strained, but continued to do the push ups. He was shakier, struggling with the weight, and after twenty-five, he paused. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

But before you had the chance to get off him, he suddenly stood up, throwing you off his back to have you fall on the floor on your ass.

“Jason, you assho-” you clapped your hand over your mouth, realising what you had just said.

Oh, no. Oh, fuck.

He stood towering over you, his jaw clenching as he stared you down with his cold, blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot! It was a reflex and-”

“Whatever. I don’t care anymore,” he rolled his eyes, reaching for his bottle.

You blinked. Then scrambled to your feet.

“You don’t care anymore?” you repeated slowly.

“I don’t care if you call me that,” he huffed.

That made your heart swell and melt at the same time.

“I got used to your voice,” he mumbled, expression changing as he looked away. He frowned, as if he was angrily staring at a distant object.

You had just guessed that he didn’t like to be called his name because of a sense of familiarity, but now you were thinking that there was much more to that than what you had originally thought.

“So, I can call you… Jason?” you tested.

“Yeah, call me whatever you want,” he sat on his bed, looking up at you.

You smiled, thankful that you had finally crossed that bridge. “You know, I could get some workout stuff for you? Weights, bands, that bar thing that you can put at your door frame for pull ups…”

“You’d like to see that, huh?” he smirked.

“You flatter yourself too much,” you scoffed.

“How was Hawaii?” he changed the subject all of a sudden.

“It was fun. Beach was great, locals were great, loved the vibe- what are you doing?”

Jason had stood back up and started to walk closer and closer to you, getting all up in your space like a predator finally cornering its prey. You kept on taking steps back until your ass hit the edge of the desk.

Nowhere else to run, your heart started hammering. He leaned in, his hands resting on the desk on either side of your body, trapping you against the table and himself. You looked up and gulped. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

“Are you afraid of me?” he muttered lowly.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” you whispered.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Well, I’m not afraid of you,” you stated.

“Oh really?” he raised an eyebrow. Then, you felt his hand grip your wrist tightly, pressing down on your skin with his fingers. “Your pulse is very fast for someone who’s not afraid of me.”

“It’s because you’re all up in my space!” you argued.

“Didn’t look like you mind when your friend,” he snarled the word, “was all up in your space.”

“My friend? What- oh,” you widen your eyes in realisation, “You mean Alex.”

“Is that his name?”

“Alex is just a friend, nothing more. He’s just someone I’m close to,” you reassured him.

Which then made you think about why you were reassuring him.

“Oh, you were definitely close to him,” Jason growled.

“Wait- are you… jealous?” a smile creeped your lips.

He scowled at you for a few moments, and you could see the little tics in his expression that said he was annoyed. The flared nostrils, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching, the very slight twitches at the corner of his left eye.

“No,” he finally said, taking a step back from you. “I’m going to shower. Since you couldn’t stop staring at me, the invitation is still open for you to join.”

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I prefer it when you were broody instead of this. Please go back to your depressive mental state,” you sarcastically replied.

Jason barked out an actual laugh. Though his laugh was odd, like someone who’s only now discovering that humans were indeed capable of laughter, you found comfort in it. It was no longer hysterical and devoid of humor. He was getting better, learning to embrace a connection with someone, and it made you extremely happy.

“Maybe I should,” he answered with a cheeky glint in his eye, “Then that way you can give me more sponge baths.”

He left you alone in his room, flushed and at a loss for words.

***

“I find it very odd that people would yell ‘Batman!’ when they realise you’re there,” you rambled while climbing out of the Batmobile.

You were absolutely drenched from the downpour that had been going on all night. It was 4 am on a friday night and you had just returned from patrol.

Bruce took off his cowl immediately, revealing tired eyes despite the relatively slow night.

“It’s like they’re saying ‘Look at me! I’m here! Please knock me out or hang me upside down from the-’ Bruce?”

Bruce had stiffen, staring at something behind you. You turned around and was shocked to see Jason in the mid-distance, sitting on the ground outside the black box that was his room, leaning against the cool metal.

He himself was staring intently at Bruce, not even sparing you a glance.

You looked back and forth between the two men, sensing a high tension silent conversation.

Then, Bruce’s eyes relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly in that hardly-there-Bruce-smile.

He gave Jason one stiff nod of understanding, then walked away to the computers at the other end of the cave, leaving you alone with his son.

Jason relaxed as you walked over to him, wringing your hair to squeeze out all the excess water.

“Aw, you waited up for me,” you teased, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips, grinning away.

“Fuck off,” he snorted, “I was bored.”

You noticed him clenching his jaw as he looked at you from top to bottom, eyes lingering longer on the ‘R’ on your left breast.

Ah, it was his first time seeing you in your uniform.

His uniform.

Suddenly, you felt like an imposter in those colors and had the strong urge to rip the uniform off.

You wanted to say something, but Jason beat you to it.

“There were times in that shit hole where I wanted to burn that uniform off my skin,” he grit, “Kept on thinking to myself. I wish I never became Robin. I wish I never met Bruce Wayne.”

Your heart shattered at his confession. It was extremely rare for him to bring up anything related to his two year torture, and the previous times were never in such detail.

Realising you needed to say something, you opened your mouth. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Yes, sometimes you knew that he just wanted you to listen.

You nodded silently and went to sit next to him on the floor.

“It… suits you,” he forced out.

“Hmm?”

“The uniform. It suits you. More than it ever suited me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think your ass would look quite nice in green,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He chuckled deeply, nudging you back even harder- hard enough for you to lose your balance and topple sideways, earning another breathy laugh from Jason.

***

Another month passed by, and you found yourself falling deeply for Jason- much to your dismay. You knew Jason wasn’t ready for any kind of intense emotions, and that it would take a very long time before he was.

So you swallowed your emotions down, stifling them and hoping it would go away.

The two of you had developed a pleasant friendship, often bickering and joking around, with Jason teasing you about your obvious physical attraction to him.

He also now occasionally waited outside his cube for you to come back after patrol, never really venturing too far from it, and still avoiding contact with both Bruce and Dick. Only you and Alfred had the privilege to speak to him.

Even then, sometimes you would visit his room but only getting a “I’m not feeling it today. Please leave.”

Understandingly, you would nod silently and leave him alone. You knew he still had his bad days, sometimes not eating his meals.

But mostly, he was getting better, both mentally and physically.

With nothing much to do the whole day, Jason was now obsessed with working out and bulking up. He now had a few simple equipment in his room- mostly weights.

You figured that it was a coping mechanism for him, a healthy outlet to channel all his rage and negative emotions into.

But come on. He was getting even hotter and it was making it extremely difficult for you to stop yourself from checking him out, fantasizing about him when he wasn’t around. Still, you couldn’t complain. Even though he hadn’t reached Dick’s size yet, he was very near to it, and his naturally bigger body frame and build made up for the still developing muscles.

Hell, he was now sporting a six pack.

But you knew that he was still not as well as you hoped he would be. The bloodshot eyes he had was proof that he doesn’t sleep well- and you soon found out why.

It was a little past midnight on your night off from patrol, and you were using your break in the best way you could think of- by sleeping. Something woke you up that night.

A soft knock on your door.

You frowned, eyes still closed, wondering who it was.

Bruce would usually knock twice. Strong, clear, and with purpose. Dick would start pounding rapidly on your door, annoying you intentionally. Alfred would give three soft knocks followed by a ‘Miss?’

Your eyes flew open. There was only one other person in the manor.

Throwing your covers aside, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door to open it.

Jason stood outside your door in the dim lights of the hallway, frowning and running his fingers nervously through his messy dark hair. He was wearing a t-shirt with boxers, standing awkwardly.

“Jason?” you hated how your voice sounded so sleepy. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay? Would you like to come in?”

He nodded silently, and you made way for him to enter before closing the door behind you.

“Sit on the bed,” you told him while jumping back into yours, sitting up cross legged.

The bed dipped when he sat on it, copying your motion and crossed his legs.

You waited for him to say something, your eyes straining to catch his in the dark. But he just remained silent, staring into space and avoiding your eyes.

“How did you know this was my room?” you asked, starting with a light topic.

“Only one that was locked. I already know where everyone else sleeps,” he explained.

“That’s right,” you realised, “I tend to forget that you’re probably even more familiar with the manor than I am.”

“Did you know there’s an old dumbwaiter in Bruce’s room?” you saw him smirk from the shadows that was casted on his face, “I used to hide in there, waiting to catch him off guard.”

“What? Why?”

“Dick and I, we had a bet,” he recalled the memory, “Whoever gets to surprise Bruce first would owe the other a special favor. Only rule was that we had to have it on video as proof.”

You appreciated that moment, the first time he ever spoke about both Dick and Bruce as a fond memory.

“I won, by the way,” he continued, “But- I forgot to press record on my phone.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned for him.

“Yeah, and Dick refused to believe me,” he chuckled, “That old man didn’t want to admit it either. But I swear- the look on his face when I jumped out while he and some model were going at it- priceless.”

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst into a fit of laughter, tears filling your eyes.

“You- you- you jumped out on him while he was having sex?!” you squealed.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I didn’t even care that it sort of scarred me, because I managed to catch Batman off guard.”

The both of you laughed, his deep voice mingling with your own on that quiet night.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jason,” you smiled warmly at him.

But then, his smile fell.

“I hate my name now.”

“I’m sorry,” you began, “You said it was okay to call you that, so I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he started running his fingers through his hair again, “It’s just- I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything,” you reassured, “It won’t leave this room. I promise.”

He looked at you, worry in his eyes. “Okay. Fine. Yeah.”

You waited for him to begin.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been having nightmares. Almost every night. It’s always the same one.”

“You want to tell me about it?” you prompted him after waiting for him to continue.

“I hate my name because he said it a lot. Joker,” he scowled, “After repeatedly burning my skin for my name, it’s like that’s all he said. In that annoying, high pitched, sing-song voice of his. Jason, Jason, Jason. It made me hate my name. It made me hate hearing it.”

“I- I didn’t know how much time passed when I was in there,” he continued, “But, fuck. It was- it was hell. And the worst part was that I kept on waiting for Bruce. Waiting and hoping for him to find me and save me. I was so desperate. You- I-”

He choked on his words. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips tight.

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him, tell him that everything was okay now. But you didn’t. You waited for him to collect himself so he could finish telling you his story, just like how he wanted to.

“Anyway, I- despite all that,” he sighed, “That was the only thing that kept me sane. I kept on clinging onto the hope that he was out there, searching. And that helped for a while. Until- until that happened.”

He was breathing heavily now, fidgeting more. Jason was definitely getting increasingly agitated the deeper he went.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck.”

The moment you realised he was crying was when he let out a sniffle. You automatically took his hand in yours, squeezing it as a form of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you told him, “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I need to. I have to. I can’t take this anymore. Keeping everything in, I feel like I’m about to fucking explode.”

“Okay, then take it slow,” you said, “No rush. Anytime you’re ready.”

He nodded, eyes still closed, as if he was afraid of letting you see him cry.

“One night,” he began, “I think- I don’t know what was different- but I think something went wrong for him. Or right? That’s how it was. Tormenting me was fun, but it was also an outlet for him. But at the same time when he was happy, he also tortured me. He came to me, and- injected me with some sort of drug. That never happened before. He made sure that my head was clear whenever he hurt me so that I could feel everything he did.”

“But- he did- and- immediately, I felt weak,” he continued, “I mean, I was already weak. But my head. It was cloudy. I remember everything clearly, but it was like my brain couldn’t process it, couldn’t communicate with my body. I felt like I was looking out through a window that was my eyes- like I was in someone else’s body, experiencing someone else’s moments.”

“He released me,” Jason’s voice was now barely a whisper. “He released me from the ropes, and I fell to the floor. And then he- he- fuck.”

He let go of your hand and started pulling at his hair, rocking back and forth on your bed. He was sobbing now, his shoulders jerking up in sharp intakes of breaths. The only thing you could do was to stay silent and hold back your own tears.

You rested your hand on his knee, giving him a textile connection with reality so he doesn’t fall into his own thoughts.

“You- he- he- ruh- ruhp-”

Your heart sank to your stomach in horror as you realised what Jason was trying to say. It was as if you were plunged into icy water, chills running down your spine at the true revelation of what he had gone through in that cursed cell.

“Oh, no,” you breathed.

“He pushed me down,” he choked, “Pushed me down and climbed on top. I- I couldn’t even fight him. I was- I was conscious the whole time and I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

Your tears were falling down now, both at the sight of Jason looking so vulnerable and fragile, and at his confession. Not being able to help yourself, you threw your arms over his neck and crashed into his hard body, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

His arms immediately wrapped around you, clutching you so hard it was painful as he buried his own face into your shoulder.

“And he kept on saying my name,” he said in muffled cries, “Jason, Jason, Jason. The whole fucking time. And- and I knew. He didn’t do it for pleasure. He did it to torment me. He- he didn’t even- he didn’t even finish.”

Jason sobbed into your skin for the next few minutes, his tears soaking through your night shirt. “But I did. Even though it was painful. Fuck, the pain was worse than anything he had ever done to me before. But- he- I- I fucking came.”

The both of you were sobbing now, his ragged breaths mingling together with your own on that quiet night.

His grip on you was tight, as if he thought that if he let go, you would disappear. So he clung onto you with all his might to keep you there with him as he recalled the horrific events.

“That's what broke me. I was so disgusted with myself. I hated myself. And he- he saw everything and- and laughed. He laughed so hard, I thought he was going to choke and die. I’ve never seen him laugh like that. And I remember every single fucking moment of being helpless on that fucking floor while he- fuck. Fuck.”

“And then he left. He left me on the floor bleeding and I never saw him again. And I went fucking insane. I tried to kill myself so many fucking times. So many times, I lost count. That’s what I dream about every night. His laughs, and his ‘Jason, Jason, Jason’.”

And that was that. That was the story.

The end of Jason Todd.

The both of you cried long and hard that night in each other’s arms. Eventually, you both lied down on the pillows together, underneath the covers.

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” he whispered to you.

Your head was on his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist, your legs tangled with his.

You smiled at that. Even with the trauma, even with the sense of abandonment he felt, he still wanted to protect Bruce from knowing the truth.

Because the both of you knew that the truth would kill him.

“I promise,” you whispered back.

And then the both of you fell asleep together.

***

“Has Jason been sleeping in your room with you?” Bruce asked you on one fine Saturday morning at breakfast.

It had been about a week and a half since the first time Jason knocked on your door and poured out his feelings to you.

“He gets nightmares,” you tried to explain.

He thought that if he told you everything, the nightmares would stop. But it didn’t. But he then realised that the only thing that made it better was sleeping by your side, having someone there to wake him up from living his own hell in a loop.

“And do the two of you… Just sleep?” Bruce frowned.

“Yes!” you widen your eyes in horror at the insinuation. “Bruce! Come on!”

“I know you have feelings for him, and I’m sure he does for you as well. But I don’t think something like that is what Jason needs right now,” he stated.

“Yes, I know!” you groaned at the thought having that kind of conversation with him, “Jesus, Bruce. I know. I’m just there to wake him up or help him fall back asleep. Nothing more.”

Bruce nodded, deep in thought. “Has he… told you? About what happened?”

You pursed your lips. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” his frown went deeper. “I understand. He will tell me when he is ready.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, hiding the fact that Jason may never tell Bruce what happened. Never the full story.

“He still hasn’t left the manor?”

“No,” you sighed, “I asked him if he wanted some fresh air. Just outside the main door, not even going down the steps. But he refused. Told me to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off’.”

“Well, he’s only just left the cave, and it’s just to your room,” Bruce thought out loud, “It’s still progress. Especially since he’s been talking to you about the past.”

“He only spoke about it one time,” you said, “And then never again.”

“I see,” he hummed, “And you’re okay with him sleeping with you?”

“Next to me, Bruce, sleeping next to me,” you corrected.

“Yes, and you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you assured him, “I can kick him out any time I want- but I don’t want to. He looks like a lost puppy sometimes.”

“An angry lost puppy.”

You chuckled at that and couldn’t agree more.

*** While Jason got the sleep he needed when he was next to you, it was counterproductive on your end. You had never been with anyone before, and definitely had not slept on the same bed with another man.

So to feel his body heat and breaths against your skin, his occasional light snores, it made your mind go on hyperdrive.

Most of the time, the two of you would just lie down, your back against his front, or your backs against each other, or both on your backs just staring at the ceiling- and talked. You would be the one talking the most, of course, about anything you could think of. You would tell him about your day, your patrols, something you read about online, or the current news.

But that one particular night during week three of him sleeping next to you, the two of you were silent. It wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, but the kind of silence that was pleasant and was better described as a peaceful quiet.

You had your back pressed against his front and his arm was lazily draped over your waist. It was a cold night, and you were wearing just a tank top and pyjama shorts, snuggling under the covers that went up all the way to your nose.

Shifting a bit while snuggling comfortably, you pressed yourself against Jason’s body to get more of his heat. But then, you were met with something poking against your lower back.

“Ngh, please ignore that,” Jason huffed.

Oh.

For some reason, you forgot that Jason was a physically healthy male who was capable of having sexual thoughts and feelings. All this while, you thought you were the only one.

“Are you- uh- is that- uh-” you stuttered, feeling your face flush with heat.

Feeling your body suddenly alert with excitement.

“Yes, it’s my fucking penis,” he grit almost angrily, “What, never heard of an erection before?”

“Of course I have!” you argued rather defensively, “It’s just- I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?” he demanded, “You didn’t think I could get it up or something?”

“No, of course not!” you denied, “It just didn’t cross my mind, that’s all.”

A pause. Then-

“Well,” he sighed, “You wouldn’t have been wrong.”

Your mind blanked for a second.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

“It’s my- fuck- it’s my first time,” he confessed.

“Your first time getting an erection?” you gasped.

“No, you idiot,” he snapped, “It’s my first time getting hard since… since… then.”

Oh. Oh, you were an idiot.

“It’s just- after that- even when I was downstairs, alone and safe, I- I couldn’t,” he told you, “I kept on thinking back to that time and- and I couldn’t. I found it disgusting.”

And immediately, like someone doused you in cold water, any feeling of horniness you had when you first felt his erection against you disappeared. You just felt so sad for him, but also angry. Angry that he had to go through all of that, and angrier that there was nothing you could do about it.

“So, why do you think you’re getting it now?” you asked. Perhaps talking about it in an objective manner would help guide him through his thought process.

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You’re fucking pressing your ass against my dick, what did you think would happen?”

“Wait, what?” your eyes widen, “You’re hard because of me?”

“No shit,” he said, “You’re hardly wearing any clothes, too.”

You shouldn’t feel happy due to the circumstance and context, but there you were ecstatic that he found you attractive enough to pop a boner after so long.

“Fuck,” he sighed, suddenly pressing himself closer to you.

His hand that draped over your waist when to actually grip it. Then, then, he grinded his hard on against your ass.

“Mmm,” he rumbled deeply, “Feels good.”

There. That was it. You were once again flooded with the feeling of heat that pooled at your stomach, a tingling sensation started at your core. Feeling hot despite the low temperature of the night, you clenched your thighs together, needing the slight pressure.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he grinded on you again, and then unexpectedly let out a chuckle.

“What is it?” you smiled, loving it whenever you heard him laugh.

“I thought… For the longest time, I thought I was broken. That he broke me,” he revealed, “I thought I needed to get all Wingardium Leviosa on this little fucker.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed and groaned at the same time, “You’re so fucking embarassing.”

He laughed along with you and continued. “But now I’m hard and- and horny. You made me feel like I’m normal again. Like I’m sixteen again, and getting horny over everything.”

Sometimes, we take the normal things for granted. Food, shelter, clothes. In this case, it was a goddamned boner. In a way, Jason’s erection was symbolic- however funny it sounded. Getting your sexual appetite and need back after being so traumatised was a massive leap for many people who had experienced the same thing.

It meant that Jason was healing well.

“Does that make you happy?” you asked.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, “But I’m definitely not sad either.”

“That’s good enough for now, then,” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Another few moments of silence. You could feel it, his cock pushing into you. However tempted you were to push back and grind, you held yourself still.

“Uh, Jason?” you voiced.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to like, take care of it?” you asked, “I mean. My bathroom is available. Or- there are many empty rooms.”

“No,” he simply stated.

“No?”

“No.”

“It’s kinda poking into me.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” you gaped, “How can I ignore it? You’re literally pressing it into my ass.”

“Well, then do you want to take care of it?” he teased.

You couldn’t argue back. “Fine, I’ll ignore it.”

He chuckled. “I’ll turn around.”

When he made the movement, you suddenly grabbed him by the wrist. “No, it’s fine. Stay here.”

You expected him to tease you like he usually would, make a crass comment, or even a ‘fuck off’.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you again in silence, and the both of you drifted to sleep.

***

“Do you think this color suits me?” Natalie asked, holding up a floral red dress.

The four of you were at the mall in Diamond District. Now that high school was over, and everyone would be going off to separate colleges in a few months, you tried to spend time with each other as much as you could.

“Any color suits you, Nat,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re hot stuff.”

“Jesus, it’s like you’re shoving it in our faces at this point,” Sarah added, flipping her brunette hair to the side, tight curls flowing down.

“Aw, you guys,” Nat pretended to tear up, “I’m gonna miss you guys so much!”

“Not again,” Alex groaned, “We’ve been through this so many times.”

“I’m gonna be so miserable without you guys,” Natalie continued on, ignoring Alex’s interruption.

“I don’t know,” Sarah shrugged, “I think I’d enjoy New York. I can have pizza parties with the rats in my overpriced apartment.”

You chuckled at Sarah’s joke. Everyone was leaving Gotham except you. Deciding to continue with Robin, you opted for Gotham University- prestigious, old, and most importantly, close to home.

Your phone dinged in your pocket. You opened it to find texts from Dick.

Dick: OH MY GOD. Dick: I’m at the Manor. Dick: Was going to the Cave gym to work out. Dick: AND Dick: JASON IS HERE!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!

That was new. Jason would usually just use whatever basic equipment he had in his room to work out. The fact that he was at the Cave’s sparring area where all the other fancier work out equipment were was out of the ordinary.

You: Just go. See if he reacts. If he suddenly stiffens and just stay there not doing anything, then leave. If he continues on, then it’s okay to stay- but don’t initiate anything! Dick: OKOKOK

You waited anxiously for Dick’s update. All four of you were now walking towards the food court, but you hardly listened to their bickering. Forty-five minutes passed before Dick texted you again.

Dick: OMG HE TALKED TO ME You: What did he say? Dick: He asked me to pass him his towel. You: That’s all he said? Dick: IT’S PROGRESS OKAY!!

Dick was right. It meant that Dick was now the third person Jason had spoken to. Adding another person to his list of contacts was definitely progress.

You were happy for him.

You:Is he still there? Dick: Nah he left Dick: But WOW he’s looking good. He must have been really going at it. I think he might get bigger than me soon You: All he does now is work out. He’s obsessed. Dick: Yeah I can tell

You decided to leave it at that for now and try to concentrate on your friends, but Dick sent another message.

Dick: ARE YOU TWO HAVING SEX?!?!

You spat out your drink, earning weird looks from everyone.

You: DICK!!!! WTF NO!!

Dick never replied.

***

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Jason asked, his voice breaking the silence of your dark room. The two of you were on your bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

“Of course,” you said. It didn’t matter to you what Jason asks for. He hardly ever asked for anything.

“Could you… Take me out tomorrow?” he requested, “If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”

“Uh, sure!” you nodded, surprised. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, okay,” you hesitated, “But- are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to go so far so quickly. Maybe you should start with just going to the backyard?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’m not a kid.”

“Okay then,” you agreed. “Tomorrow.”

You kept on glancing anxiously at him the next day as he climbed into the passenger seat of your car. He was quiet, but looked perfectly fine.

Switching the engine on, you drove out of the garage and out the large automatic gates. Trees soon surrounded the lonely road on both sides as you descended downhill into town.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought Robinson Park would be nice,” you said. It was around three in the afternoon, yet Gotham was dark as though the day was ending. It was cloudy, skies grey and wind blowing.

“You’re taking me to a park?” he scoffed.

“It’s more quiet than anywhere else,” you reasoned with him, “Less people. Spacious. Lots of greenery.”

“Whatever.”

Reaching the parking space of the park, you noticed that there were a few cars. Mothers and nannies liked to bring children out to the park around that time. Joggers and teens, college students and retired elderly seeking a little escape from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass.

You turned the engine off and proceeded to open the door, only then noticing Jason stiffening. Looking over to him, you saw that his eyebrows were pulled down in a deep frown, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists on his knees.

You didn’t say anything or make any comment. Leaning back into your seat, you waited until Jason was ready.

About five minutes passed before he took a deep breath, gave you a nod, and then opened his door.

The two of you walked along a path at the park, going deeper inside and further away from your car. There were a few joggers around, some tourists, and some teens taking photos. You saw a group of kids in the distance playing frisbee, and the others were walking their dogs.

An empty bench stood in the middle of the park, overlooking a clearing. You headed there, Jason following closely behind.

“It’s a bit gloomy today,” you pouted, “As if Gotham could be anything other than that, of course.”

You looked at Jason.

He looked like a scared dog being brought out for the first time.

His jittery knees were bouncing rapidly, his wide eyes were darting at every movement, his forehead was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and his breathing was heavy.

“Woah, woah,” you reached out to him, putting an arm on his back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just listen to me talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he gulped.

“Try to calm your breathing,” you instructed, “Deep breaths, Jason. In… out… In… Out… Yeah, see that’s great.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, now calmer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled warmly, “You’re doing just fine.”

“No, I’m not,” he strained, “I feel like everything is too big. Too vast. The fucking sky looks like it’s going to crash down on me and at the same time suck me up into a void.”

“And despite all you’re feeling right now, you’re not breaking down or anything, are you?” you tried, “You’re okay, Jason. This is progress.”

“I guess,” he sighed, “I’m just- I’m so used to having four walls and a ceiling. Now everything feels too big.”

“I understand,” you empathized, “Whenever you want to go back, just say the word. Or we can even just go and sit in the car. No problem.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” he stood up.

The walk back to the car was faster.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“No, you’re not,” you reassured him, “That was great, Jason. Come on, it was your first time outside in two years and a half. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I’m so fucking broken,” he choked.

“Don’t say that,” you scolded, “You’re not broken. And you know what, even if you think you are, we can always fix it. Baby steps. Maybe we can do this once a week. We were out for like, ten minutes? Next week we’ll try fifteen. How’s that sound?”

“Twice a week,” he stated, “I just want to be normal again.”

“Okay, twice a week, then,” you agreed, “We’ll try again in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay,” he paused, “Thank you.”

“No problemo,” you grinned, “Would you like to stay here a bit longer or shall we go back?”

“Let’s go back.”

“Wanna stop by the diner? You can wait in the car while I ask for a take-away?”

“...okay.”

***

Jason and you had gone out twice more. Once three days after the first time, and the other a week later. The second time he went out, he lasted twenty minutes, though you were sure he was being stubborn on his part. He looked like he was having a heart attack, but he insisted on staying until he hit the twenty minute mark.

The third time, he was much much better. Surprisingly so. The two of you sat down on that bench for half an hour, with you even leaving him alone for a few minutes to get two ice cream cones.

After that, you took him for a drive around the city. He seemed to be more comfortable in the car, so you went all the way from Robinson Park to Diamond District, and back to the manor.

Bruce seemed very pleased with your update, and you swore you could see him actually smile.

“Thank you,” he had told you. “You’ve done more than I could have ever asked of you.”

“It’s no problem, Bruce. Really,” you reassured him.

“I’m his father. He is my responsibility. It’s my fault he’s even in that state. I wish I could do more for him,” he said solemnly.

“The fact that you understand what he needs is more than helpful, Bruce,” you smiled, “Not many parents can do that. You understand and respect him. That’s enough for now.”

He simply nodded.

Ever since your scheduled outings, Jason had become more and more relaxed whenever he was in the manor. He now walked to the kitchen on occasion to mess with Alfred while he cooked meals for him, sometimes sitting in the living room lounging on the couch while reading. Most of the time, though, he was down at the sparring zone of the Cave, working out.

But at night, he would never fail to knock on your door.

And at that particular night, you found yourself in the same situation again while lying down on your side with your back to his front, for the fifth time.

“You officially have to stop calling yourself broken,” you grumbled, “Because that thing poking into my ass is definitely not broken.”

He chuckled lowly. “You complaining, sweetheart?”

Oh, and yes. Jason now had started calling you ‘sweetheart’. Why? You had no clue. It was just a thing that happened. The look on your face when he first slipped it in was probably a sight to behold.

“No shit, I’m complaining, Jason,” you groaned, “You haven’t jerked off, yet? Not even once?”

“Nope,” he popped the P, “I just… I don’t want to… I don’t want to come.”

You sighed, understanding the situation. He had been disgusted with himself because he had ejaculated when Joker… Well, that. You hated to even think about it, so you always shoved the thought away.

“But unfortunately for me, I still get super horny,” he rumbled deeply, pushing his hips into you even more, “So fucking horny.”

“And then I have to suffer,” you complained.

“I can assure you, blue balls are more painful than something poking into you,” he bickered.

“It’s not that…”

“Then?”

“I get horny too, come on man,” you whined, “I’m a hormonal teenage girl. What did you expect?”

“You get horny too?” he whispered after a pause.

“Uh, yeah,” you admitted nervously. Somehow, the mood shifted, and your heart started drumming against your chest.

“Because of me?” he asked.

“Not you specifically, I mean,” you tried to back track, “You’re… Your dick pressing up against me like that, I mean, come on, Jason.”

“Simple question sweetheart,” he told you, “You get horny because of me, yes or no?”

You gulped. “Yes.”

Fuck, why did you say yes? You could have lied. You could have not answered.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You noticed that his hand was now on your hip, right above the waistband of your sleeping shorts, drawing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

You were nervous. The butterflies in your tummy was not helping you calm down.

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut, as if to protect yourself from anything he had to say.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping your hips and grinding his hard on against your ass even more. And did it… Fuck, did it get even harder?

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, and also out of nervousness, you remained silent. Jason’s chest rose and fall against your back, his respiratory rate increasing. His pinky finger slid underneath the waistband, testing the waters before slowly slipping his hand into your pants.

He went in so slowly, as if waiting for you to tell him no, to rip his hand away, to wrench yourself away from him. But you never did, so he went in deeper, caressing the skin beneath your pelvic bone, his heat just burning into you.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he commented, voice suddenly husky.

“I don’t wear them to bed,” you informed him.

“You mean to tell me,” he growled, “That all this while I’ve been sleeping next to you and you never had your panties on?”

“It’s more comfortable that way,” you mumbled.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. “Thank God I never knew. Would have been torture, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Jason,” you gasped.

“It’s true,” he said, “Damn, sweetheart.”

He went lower, closer to your center.

Your core was tingly, small pulses of electricity buzzed through your body as Jason came closer and closer and closer and-

He slipped his hands between your closed thighs and cupped you.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly, “Warm. Fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?” you laughed, even though you felt like screaming on the inside. Screaming for more.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, burying his face into your nape, taking a deep breath. “You smell nice.”

Oh, shit. You totally forgot about Jason’s aversion to strong smells.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “I can switch to an unscented shampoo as well so it wouldn’t be too strong for you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I like it on you.”

He ground his hand into your center harder.

“Mmpf, Jay,” you breathed, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’ve never touched a girl like this before.”

“Really?” you widen your eyes in surprise.

“I was kept in a cell for two years, I couldn’t exactly talk, let alone touch, anyone can I?” he quipped.

“Right.”

“Teach me,” he said.

“What?” you whispered despite knowing what he meant.

A pause of silence. A deep intake of breath, a slow exhale.

“Teach me how to touch you,” he purred.

Fuck, you felt like exploding.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. If you… If you want to.”

Your mind quickly tried to analyse the situation. Bruce had specifically said that Jason didn’t need any complicated matters in the relationship. It made sense. You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason with any confusion or uncertainty.

But at the same time, you’ve been figuring out how Jason thought, bit by bit. He’s told you many times that he just wanted to be normal again, to feel normal, to do normal things. And this was something that was normal, that he should do, that he wanted to do.

And you knew that he probably would take the rejection even worse.

“O-Okay,” you agreed.

Slowly, you separated your thighs, raising the one on top and hooking it over his legs behind you. Due to your shift in position, you felt the minute Jason’s fingers dip slightly into your folds.

“So, uh, this is my first time with a guy as well,” you squeaked, “But I’ll try to guide you.”

You licked your lips.

“Uhm, well, I guess you can start by running a finger up and down between my- oh! Yes, just like that.”

His middle finger slid down to your opening, and then up again slowly. His movements were uncertain, brushing only slightly against your clit unintentionally.

It was different, having someone else touch you. Somehow, despite the inexperience, it just felt better.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking wet. Do you usually get this wet?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No? Yes? I don’t know! I can’t feel it.”

“Shit.”

You let him play with you some more, his fingers sliding up and down, sometimes pressing against your fleshy parts, sometimes circling and gathering your wetness, sometimes just parting your lips. Hell, he even tapped the tips of his fingers on you randomly or brushed into your delicate fuzz. You knew he was just exploring, feeling you for the first time.

And that thought made you smile and sigh.

“Teach me how to make you feel good,” he rasped.

“Uh, so your fingers are wet, right?”

“Yeah. Because you’re leaking all over them.”

“Okay, good. Now find my clit. It’s slightly above your finger, okay, to the left a bit. More. Okay, there! Yeah, right there,” you sighed, finally feeling that delicious pressure.

“Here?”

He tapped your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned, “Yes- but don’t just- nevermind, just gently circle it. Clockwise.”

He obeyed, and hell since when did Jason just obey?

He circled you gently, like you said. But he also went so, so slow.

“Faster, Jay,” you panted.

He went faster, making you groan in pleasure.

“Like this, sweetheart?” he muttered, his voice low and cracking, and sexy, and husky. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and it drove you wild.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

“Feel good?”

“So good, Jay. Press a little harder now- fuck. Fuck. Yes, perfect. Just like that.”

The pressure built as his fingers did their magic.

“You- you’re surprisingly good at that,” you stuttered, “You sure- mmm- you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Despite what you think,” he husked in your ear, warm breath tickling you. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“I can see that.”

“But I’m also good at improvising.”

“Wha- oh. Oh. Fuck! Jason! Oh my fucking god!”

He started pressing even harder, and going even faster, throwing away the slow build you were going for and instead pushing you towards orgasm fast and hard, as if he was determined to prove something to you.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he purred, “You gonna come soon?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!”

“You want to come for me?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Yes!”

What the hell? When did he learn how to talk like that?

Because with the mix of his heavy pants, his low voice coaxing you, his barrage of pleasure at your clit, you felt the familiar tightening of your core. You threw one hand back and found his hair. Running your fingers through them, you gripped them tight and pulled.

You pulled on his hair as he forced the orgasm onto you.

“Oh my God. Jason, I’m gonna- fuck- I’m- fuck- ah!”

You moaned loudly as you felt your walls flutter, clenching over nothing as you reached your high.

“O-okay, stop, fuck,” your hand went from his hair to his wrist, stilling him. He withdrew his hands from your pants, and went to grip you tight again by the waist.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he groaned, grinding into you. You pushed your ass back, feeling his hardened length against your flesh in your post-orgasm bliss. “Jesus, that was so hot.”

“That was- yeah,” you giggled, “Fuck.”

His face was still buried in your neck. You could feel his lips on your skin.

“Uhm, I can, you know,” you sputtered, “Try to help you out?”

“It’s fine,” he breathed, body still tight against yours, “Just go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, feeling guilty that he didn’t get off. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. That was great. I enjoyed that. I told you, I don’t want to come.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Go to bed.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Fuck, I’m so horny.”

“Jason,” you whined, “Really, I can help-”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, “Goodnight.”

You pursed your lips.

“Goodnight.”

[shhh-no-ones-home]

how to save a life bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

Good old whump 😌 this is so fucking long (wc: 2113)

also i know some people are weird about dogs so just know reader has a very large typically seen as aggressive kind of dog (but hes not, just a little slobbery and awkward lol)

Song: say something by danny worsnop and matty mullins 

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

"I can't take your shit anymore. If you won't do anything about it then I will! I quit!"

I yelled, untying my apron and tossing it at my manager. One of the cooks had been harassing me for the last couple weeks and he refused to say or do anything. But I had reached my breaking point.

"Come on y/n, we need you! You can't leave me short staffed like that."

He whined and I shook my head, making my way to the back door.

"No, fuck you Rodney, you can find someone else to deal with it."

I said annoyed, clocking out, grabbing my stuff and storming out the back. I gave him the finger as the door slammed behind me, sighing angrily at myself for not finding a new job sooner.

"Fuck!"

I yelled, kicking the brick wall before leaning into it, shoving my head in my hands. Then I heard a harsh cough. My attention snapped towards the man limping through the alley way, seemingly clutching at his side.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I asked, reaching into my bag and gripping my pepper spray tightly.

"Sir?"

I asked again, moving closer to him in the darkness. When he looked up at me I realized who it was. I had seen pictures of him before. What was his name? James? Yeah captain Americas bear friend. From the museum.

"Help."

He managed before falling face first into the dirt. I gasped as I watched his body go limp. In that moment I wasn't quite sure what to do. I couldn't call someone cause I didn't know who to call, and God it was gonna take everything in me to get him back to my apartment. But I couldn't just leave him here. Shit. I sighed before kneeling down and rolling him over. His face was bruised and bloodied, the same as the knuckles on his hand. He must have really gotten into it with someone. I bit my lip before sitting him up with a groan.

"Okay james, work with me here."

I sighed out, going around him and picking him up. He made a soft noise and I looked at him, his eyelids bobbing open for a second.

"Two blocks, that's all it is."

I told myself more than anything, slinging his arm over my shoulder and walking with him dragging his feet. The whole walk was labored breathing and groaning. He was heavier than he looked but then again he was pretty much solid muscle. And though he wasn't much help I could tell he was trying. That endurance was paying off a little bit. But as soon as we were to my apartment he was out, practically falling through the door after I opened it. I only just caught him, laying him on the floor gently and dragging him to the couch. As I tried to put him on it I could hear my dog whining and tapping his toes in his crate.

"Give me a minute Wolf."

I said half annoyed as I got James flat on his back. When I was content with him laying there I let my massive akita-rottweiler mix out of his crate. He immediately went to James and started sniffing him excitedly until I snapped my fingers at him.

"Hey, leave the nice man alone. Let's go potty."

I said, him barking and running towards the door. I quickly got his leash on and took him down to the streets of new York. We walked a good block before finally heading back to my apartment. After I took Wolfs leash off he was right back in James' face.

"Hey, what did I say? Go lay down."

I instructed, him making a sad sound before pouting his way to his large bed in front of the window. I sighed, looking over James with my hands on my hips. Then I noticed a darkened spot just under his jacket and immediately began to worry.

"Shit. Is that blood?"

I said, stepping closer. I watched his face as I knelt down, pushing the coffee table further away from the couch.

"James I don't know if you can hear me but I'm gonna undo your jacket."

I said in a clear voice, watching to see if he moved but he didn't, prompting me to go on anyway. When the front of it was undone I gasped. He was indeed bleeding. It took me a minute to get it fully off, his shirt following right after. To my surprise his whole torso was covered in scrapes and bruises, along with what seemed to be a gunshot wound. Luckily it was only a graze. That I could treat.

"What the hell were you doing?"

I asked out loud even though I knew he couldn't hear me. I shook my head before going to get the first aid kit from under my bed, wolf following me around my apartment. I guess lucky for him I went to medical school, I mean I flunked out my last semester, but still. That's only three months I'd have to finish before I'm a licensed nurse. I had this. Right?

"God I hope I don't have to sew this man shut."

°°°°°°°°°

The next few hours I just sat at my breakfast bar staring at him in the living room, sipping coffee and trying not to wake Wolf who was now fast asleep at my feet. I was waiting patiently for him to wake up, to make noise, to move even an inch. but it never happened. He was however still breathing, the portable heart monitor I had attached to his finger beeping softly.

When the sun started peering through my curtains though I figured it was best to check on him again. After all, I would need to change his bandages soon so whatever it was that hit him didn't get infected. Wolf for one was very excited again for me to be working on the stranger, running to him and getting in his face again.

"Wolf!"

I scolded, James jolting upright as I pulled the collar back on his large black neck.

"Sorry."

I said through a nervous laugh. He looked around for a moment before looking down and wincing in pain as he touched his abdomen.

"Go lay down."

I said harshly, wolf not quite budging at first. But going when I nudged him with my knee.

"Um, I hope you don't mind that. I did as best I could but it's been a while. I was gonna come change them."

He stared at me, looking to wolf in his bed when he sighed.

"Thank you."

He said softly and I nodded.

"Do you mind laying back down? It's a little easier."

I said and he did, slowly, watching my every move as I knelt beside him. I dug into my kit to get new dressing, peeling the old off and shaking my head. It was still bleeding but there wasn't much I could do about it.

"Do you remember much about last night James?"

I asked and he shook his head no, the dog tags around his neck shifting. I focused intently on what I was doing, hearing wolf sigh again. I rolled my eyes, sending him a playful look.

"You aren't afraid of dogs are you James?"

I asked and he shook his head again.

"Okay wolf, come here."

He stood quickly, panting as he came over and stood beside me, looking like he had a wide smile on his face as he sat down. James looked up at him and smiled back, bringing his right hand to scratch at wolf's head. It was a good distraction as I fixed his wounds for a second time. As I put the stuff away I was forced to remember he was still shirtless.

"Oh uh, I washed your shirt too, it was pretty soaked through."

He nodded, making a pained face as he moved to sit up, letting me help as he did. Wolf took that as an invitation to get on the couch, his large dog body taking up a good portion of it as he laid across James' lap. I looked to the ceiling as he laughed, petting him some more.

"I'm so sorry. If you want him off all you have to do is tell him to get down."

I said standing up, going to the kitchen to wash my hands.

"I don't mind it, he reminds me of an old friend."

He lamented as I came back, wiping my hands on a towel.

"They must've been one hell of a friend."

He nodded slowly.

"Hey uh, you can call me Bucky. if you want."

I reached for his hand and shook it.

"Y/n."

"Thanks for this y/n."

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm not gonna lie James, uh Bucky, I was a little shook up last night. I had just quit my job when you came stumbling down the alley I almost wasn't sure what to do with you. And I know as a citizen I probably should have called an ambulance but as an ally..."

I paused. he looked a little more into what i had to say now.

"I've, well, I've been around the block with a string of heroes before and none of them could ever actually get help from paramedics. So I did what I could."

He nodded.

"I really appreciate it y/n, I must've been desperate after all, to go to a complete stranger."

He laughed.

"I'm just glad you found me and not someone else. Or who knows what could have happened."

"those were my thoughts exactly."

there was a long pause, me standing awkwardly and both of us staring at the floor. then Wolf barked, taking both of our attention as i jumped at the sudden sound.

"guess he agrees."

i said and he laughed again.

"ya know i really appreciate this. is there a way i could repay you? some how?"

he asked and i shook my head.

"no, i couldn't let you do that. really."

i said quickly, holding my hand out, watching as he struggled to stand.

"i want to."

he insisted, stumbling forward and i caught him. he panted out a pained noise.

"knowing you're safe is enough. come over here, lets get you something to eat."

i said, walking him slowly to the bar i was just sat at and feeling his back muscles strain against my palm as i held him upright.

"careful, you keep taking care of me i might never leave."

he said through a wince as i placed him in the chair.

"promise?"

i laughed and he sent me a soft look before smiling. i could feel the blush run across my face as i moved to the fridge, making a face like i was an idiot for saying that.

"uh i went to school to be a nurse after taking care of my last boyfriend. he was terminally ill but didnt want to stay at a care facility. i guess ive kind of been missing it since he passed last year."

"im sorry."

he said quietly as i pulled things out of the fridge for breakfast.

"its alright. ive been getting by. plus i have wolfie over there to keep me busy."

i said with a smile, the large dog wagging his tail as he sat at the edge of the kitchen.

"im sure he appreciated all you did for him."

bucky said and i nodded once, moving to the stove.

"uh, how do you like your eggs?"

he turned in the chair to look at me.

"what's your specialty?"

i laughed.

"anything but poached."

he smiled widely at me.

"over easy please."

"great. that i can do."

there was another long silence as i began frying the eggs. then he cleared his throat.

"would it be a little Stockholm syndrome-y to ask you out after saving my life?"

i let out a short, loud, laugh before looking at him.

"oh you're serious?"

i asked and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"unless youre not looking but the least i could do is take you to dinner."

i nodded slowly, plating the food and setting the plates on the counter.

"im not but i wouldnt say no to dinner. and who knows, maybe id be open to seeing you after. maybe with a shirt and not bleeding on my couch."

he picked up the fork and raised it in cheers to me.

"ill take it. and its the least i could do. as a thank you."

"its a date then."