#starts out just ghosting her hands over him; filled to the brim with want but not quite able to touch him yet

[esmes]

look at me baby, dead in my eyes it's the end of our holiday, but it isn't goodbye carry me with you all of the time eat of me baby, skin to the bone body on body, until I'm all gone but I'm with you, inside

🎥 @theriddletrades

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 20 - "This better be good."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A green Vortex swirled in front of them and Constantine held his breath. This was not like any of the summonses he usually did. He looked over his shoulder at the others present, wondering if he could somehow bullshit his way out of this. But one thing was clear, whatever he had summoned was not one of his demons.

The Vortex continued to swirl before them, slowly greenish smoke started to rise out of him. Then suddenly a melody started to echo around them and Constantine felt like face palming.

"Uh… isn't this the Melody of This is Halloween?" The Flash asked aloud, exchanging glances with the others present.

"Constantine." Great Bats was getting grumpy, the JL Dark member thought, refusing to turn around to face any of the heroes. Ignoring them might make them stop questioning what was happening with this summon. It wasn't like there were any pressing situations, forcing this summon in hopes to prevent whatever interdimensional war Trigon was about to start. No, they hadn't forced him out and away from the curse he had been working on. Not like there were other members of the JL Dark, Constantine clearly knew the big bad Bat liked to work more with than him.

Humming resounded from the vortex now too, clearly depicting the chorus of the well known Halloween song, and John's eye twitched. The fuck kinda demon spirit did he summon now? Was whatever he summoned making fun of him just because that being got summoned in October? The rising smoke started to move, taking on a shape that appeared more humanoid as the humming started to become clearer though it sounded like it was filtered through static as it still sounded somewhat distorted.

"Shadow is the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing green! Spectra is the one hiding under your stairs, fingers like snakes and spiders in her hair."

The voice echoed sounding like a mix of static and white noise but became clearer the more or the green smoke escaped from the vortex. None of them really knew what was going on and Constantine was cursing up a storm in his mind. What the hell was happening right now, he just wanted to get the Spirit of Balance to help them out with Trigon? They were supposed to symbolize balance, surely they would have the easiest time to fix that imbalance the demon was about to wreck across dimensions.

"In this zone we call home, everyone hails to the ghost-like song! In this zone, don't we love it now? Clockworks' waiting for the next surprise!" The smoke was twirling around and moving like they were picking something up from inside the vortex, its shape still smokey but slowly Constantine was able to make out certain shapes of the head and arms as the voice continued to hum and then sing the static was more and more receding.

"Freakshow is the clown with the thermos to his face, sucked up in a flash and gone without a trace. I am the who when you call, 'Who's there?'. Dani is the wind blowing through your hair. Dan is the shadow on the moon at night, Frighty filling your dreams to the brim with fright!" The voice was now very clear, no interference, the smoke had fully formed a human-like body and appeared to be a white haired teen boy, though John noted, his summon was turned with his back to them appearing not to notice him or the heroes in the room and holding… Was that a Halloween party garland?

"This is Halloween, this is Hallo- who the fuck are you guys?" Mid lyrics the kid appeared to have turned around his arms raised like he was going to hang the garland of cut out pumpkins on a wall. White green eyes stared at them before the summoned eyes went to the garland in his hands that were then quickly hidden behind the teens back.

"Spirit of balance-"

"It's Ancient actually."

The spirit, ancient, cut in and Constantine hurried to correct his mistake. "Ancient of balance, we are the Justice League and have summoned you to seek your help…" Constantine started his usual spiel, ignoring Green Lantern's mutter of if that kid really was the spirit of balance as well as the judging looks and burning glare he felt on his back from Batman. He was not going over with them again about the fact that demon, spirits, ghost and the likes can look like whatever the fuck they wanted.

"Okay, stop!" The summoned teen held up a hand before John could continue. "I was in the middle of an important Halloween themed stabilization party preparation! To finally celebrate Dan after Dani pestered him for months! So this better be good, to get in the way of my first fight free weekend in years!"

"A war with demons is about to start." Constantine's head whipped around to glare at Batman, does he need to hold another course of how to properly communicate with interdimensional beings?

"That's Demon Realm Issues, not Ghost related. Could you humans stop mixing us up? I am not even from the same dimension as them and we have enough troubles with them breaching the Ghost Zone borders every month!" The summoned teen arched an eyebrow at them, crossing his arms and bringing that damned Halloween garland back into view again. They clearly didn't want to be here and if Constantine knew anything about unwilling summons then one wrong world could screw them all over right now.

"Trigon is the one starting it." Batman added and once more the JL Dark member sent the Dark knight a seething glare. That hypocrite put him through a lecture about hero behavior and cautions before, John would return the favor once the crisis was handled.

"Trigon?" His head whipped around to look at the suddenly very interested ancient of balance floating over to Batman.

"What did that big toddler do now?" It appeared like the Ancient was talking to themselves more than them as he crossed his arms completely forgetting about the wall decoration in his hands as they tilted their head in thoughts and started to ignore them. They were mumbling something John couldn't hear, for once he wished Superman was around so he could tell them with his super hearing.

"I have no idea who you guys are but, fine! I will help but only because Dan mentioned wanting to fight that overgrown toddler again. That's going to be his stabilizing day present! He can't complain this way that I got him something lame."

Constantine was about to sigh a breath of relief until he noticed the Ancient of Balance opening a good damn vortex and pulling out a snarling, red glowing eyed and blue flamed haired spirit by the neck. He paled then realizing that the being of balance just pulled the Spirit er Ancient of Wrath into their dimension. John then also noticed what appeared to be a little girl hanging like a koala of Wrath's back and then remembered a passage in the summoning text of the Spirit of Balance, he apparently had carelessly ignored.

Summoning Balance, Wrath and Mischief always stuck together. Sweating heavily, Constntine ignored any and all looks sent his way, because he was sure he might have just doomed their Dimension or at least plunged them into chaos for the time being.

[crystlizabeth]

Fucking your ex-boyfriend’s dad because he cheated on you..

Filthy smut

˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

ex-Bfd!price was a little surprised to see you at his door in the middle of the night not to mention the mascara running down your pretty little face. There you sat on the couch your hand on your lap as you explained to him how his son had cheated on her.

ex-Bfd!price didn’t think twice when you asked him to fuck you.. having your body spread out on his bed as he kiss your body so gently trading every curve on you

“Yeah Angel, let me hear this pretty little sounds..” she praised his fingers sliding in and out of your wet fold his mouth working at your nipples the feeling of this beard causing you to shiver.

Kissing down your body his head slipped in between your thighs his large hands gripping the the fat of your thighs as he let his tongue work on your pussy. Your were so wet god, he could stay down there for days having you shaking and stammering his name. He wanted to make sure you never forgot his name. He continued To eat you out your arousal all over his face as you came to another orgasm your thighs smothering him.

“Good girl, you wanna come for me again.” He spoke coming up from in between your legs his face getting close to yours his beard having a slight glistening to it form yourself. You nodded feeling his hand ghost over your sensitive pussy price gave her a light slap to the cunt causing you to yelp.

“Common I wanna hear you Angel.” He said his lips kissing you softly before kissing down your neck setting himself between your legs.

“Mmm— please fuck me John.” You whined price grabbed your face harshly making you look as him.

“Say my name baby common..” he groaned his cock twitching by how his name rolled of her tongue. That filthy fucking tongue.

Slapping her face lightly he mocked your cries out for his cock to fill you up. You where falling apart under him your body shaking In pleasure “let me fuck you silly Angel say my name so you forget (exbf name)..” he cood his hand moving your hair out of your face.

So he did your legs over his shoulder as he bullied your cunt, you cried out his name with every thrust. Lifting himself up he keep your knees to your chest thrusting into you harshly by then you had started babbling he had fucked your silly. And amused smirk and price watched your tits bounce with every thrust.

“Atta girl, takin’ me so well huh.” Price praise coming down to kiss your forehead, his hand resting on the back of your head is pace never changing.

“Jo—John im-I’m gonna cum.” You cried out in a fit of moans.

His forehead touching yours “common Angel cum f’ me.” He groaned reaching his high.

“Please— please cum in me, I want you— to f’ me..” you babbled. You were so cock drunk but price wasn’t gonna give up the chance to fill your precious cunt up with his load.

Few more thrust and you both came together his thick load filling you up making you moan in the process you could feel him and hit thick seed fill you to the brim, he pulled out slowly watching his cum drip out of you.

“Yeah, oh fuck yeah Angel~” he cuckled watching at the white liquid spilled out of your puffy cunt.

“Take a picture John.” You whispered leaning up on your elbow, he leand over grabbing his phone snapping a picture only the bottom half of your face your tongue sticking out teasingly. Yeah he was gonna keep that.

He sent it to his son the text with the picture saying ‘cant wait to see you for dinner tomorrow. I know I just enjoyed my dessert!😁’

Throwing his phone to the side he continued with you he wasn’t done with you.

Not yet.

˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

[lixie-phoria]

[10.0 americano fiasco] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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you would have thought that the campus walk ways would be empty considering the match that was about to start in less than fifteen minutes, everyone eager to get a good seat, but it's surprisingly crowded as you and hyunjin walk down the old, cobbled path.

"-and then changbin fell down smack on his ass. funniest thing that's ever happened during practice," hyunjin finishes his story, throwing his head back to laugh. "i wish we got that on camera."

the wind is cold, kissing your skin as it pushes back your hair, and you're slightly concerned at your friend's insistence to drink his iced americano despite the weather.

"you will never let him live it down, will you?"

"of course not!"

hyunjin's excitement is contagious, because you find yourself laughing along as he skips ahead, forcing you to take bigger steps too.

"sometimes i feel bad for him. but then i remember how he keeps stealing my protein powder!"

right. of course. every few days you are reminded your best friend is only a man whose brain is hard wired into thinking about two things - the gym and girls. specifically in that order.

"and-" here hyunjin stumbles over a crack on the ground, squealing a bit.

"careful or you're going to be the one falling on your ass."

he rolls his eyes playfully at your poke, correcting himself and removing the skip from his step before falling into line with you.

"anyways so-"

"hyunjin!"

you halt, turning back to see jeongin jogging down the path towards the pair of you.

"chan hyung said you should come back for some final strategy discussions!"

you hear your best friend groan beside you.

"we've discussed our plan a million times before!" he all but whines, stomping his leg like a toddler. "why does he want to go over it again?"

"not our choice, is it? the coach said we have to."

you pat hyunjin's arm as he slouches in defeat.

"it's fine hyune. i should probably go get a seat too or all the good ones will be taken."

"sure," he mumbles, spinning on one foot to sharply turn towards you. "bye-"

you see it happen in slow motion - hyunjin's mouth opening to finish his sentence when a large body collides into him from the back, sending the boy stumbling into you.

but you feel it before you see it - ice cold americano splashing all across the front of your white top, soaking the fabric and diffusing through it in a few seconds.

"sorry!"

you faintly hear a foreign voice apologize, their figure walking ahead without stopping to clearly notice the damage they had just caused.

"holy shit," jeongin whispers, wide eyes looking between you and hyunjin, who is also frozen in his spot, hand slapped across his mouth.

"that bitch."

the culprit is long gone, melting into the sea of people ahead, and you're still too scared to look down and see exactly how much of the drink had landed on you. but you can see hyunjin's now empty cup that had been filled nearly to the brim only a few seconds ago.

"yn-" hyunjin's voice is only a whisper, and from the horror painting his face you would have thought he had seen a ghost. "shit, i'm so sorry-"

"no time for that," jeongin interrupts, recovering first, and you turn to look at him. "hyunjin did you carry an extra t-shirt or sweatshirt with you?"

the boy shakes his head.

"just your luck," jeongin mutters as he shakes his head. "i have my spare jersey from last year. yn you can borrow that."

it's like a switch goes off in hyunjin's head as he stands straight, his horror slowly morphing into annoyance.

"that won't be necessary-"

"do you want her to freeze to death?"

"well obviously not-"

"then there's no time to waste."

"why can't we ask chan hyung or someone for their jersey? maybe-"

"i have my bag with me right now. do you want to go back to the lockers and explain to hyung what you were doing drinking an ice cold americano ten minutes before a match?"

hyunjin's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, searching for something to say before he slumps in defeat.

"yn are you fine with this?"

you shrug. you really didn't have a choice.

you didn't want to agree seeing the miserable look on your best friend's face, but the drink was really starting to soak through the cloth and the cold it brought was not welcomed by your bones. you could feel the goose bumps lining your skin.

and so you find yourself accepting the jersey from jeongin, trying to reassure hyunjin it wasn't his fault. but the boy wouldn't even meet your eyes.

"thanks jeongin."

he flashes you a reassuring smile before pulling hyunjin and the two are on their way, leaving you to walk to the washrooms alone.

and it isn't until you're in one of the stalls that you really realize it's jeongin's jersey, and it has his name printed on it in big bold letters.

oh.

it's jeongin's jersey, and it smells like him - the same pepper and vanilla mix you had caught on to the at the party.

it's jeongin's jersey, and it falls around you perfectly, but it's nowhere near as nice as it would look on him - highlighting all those muscles you had felt that night.

it's jeongin's jersey, and you're wearing it at his game, something you once used to do for yeonjun.

it's jeongin's jersey, and-

shut up!

you have to physically slap yourself, shaking your head as the sting spreads across your skin.

something was wrong with you. this wasn't that big of a deal. he was just helping you out. he probably doesn't even care.

yeah. he doesn't even care. that's right. it's okay, you shouldn't be flustered about it either, you think, shoving your own top into your bag and marching out determinedly. you were not going to let yang jeongin and his nice smelling jersey cloud your thoughts.

you were here for hyunjin today. he would have your full attention. you were going to support him and then go for lunch without thinking about-

"for fucks sake watch where you're going!"

you yelp in surprise as you face plant into a hard body, stumbling back in shock. it really wasn't a good day for you.

"i'm so sorr-"

"yn?"

you freeze.

no way.

"what are you doing here?"

no fucking way.

"...yeonjun?"

he's right there. in front of you. hair slightly tousled from when you crashed into him and eyes wide as he stares at you.

"yeonjun what-"

he saves you from your rambling by stepping closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"what are you doing?"

"is that yang jeongin's jersey?"

of course he noticed.

you want to turn right back around, dig your grave, and bury yourself alive.

"yn. are you fucking wearing jeongin's jersey right now?"

"no?"

you wish you were six feet under the ground.

"stop lying-"

"bye! gotta go!"

you push him aside, running down to occupy the first empty seat you see in the crowd of spectators, losing the boy somewhere at the back.

fuck. your. life.

taglist 1 - @thisisnotjacinta @jiisungllvr @hanjsquokka @abbiestearsricochet @adestayskz @thisrandombitch @adr1an4 @alnex05 @cheesemonky @endlessheadache @tiapatito202278ok @queen-in-the-shadows @heeee24 @chanceonceli @amesification @conwunder @weareapackofstrays @taejun-sunlix @lofasofabread @untilthesunrises @jinnie-ret @darlingz99 @kibs-and-bits @143lix @simp4myself @thisrandomgoofy15 @vixensss @luvkpopp @skz-streamer @luvenus702 @syds-dead

©lixie-phoria, 2024

[barefoothighlander]

heyy i was just thinking and this one thing wont leave my mind. so its ghost x fem reader which is on her period and is like very emotional. for example shes making a tea and some water spills so she starts crying.

i dont know if ur taking requests but if not it’s okay!! <33

-so cute, I'm obsessed with softie ghost.

warnings: none just some good ole fluff

You’re standing in the kitchen, arms braced against the counter as quiet sobs fill the air, the spilt tea from the mug pooling on the tile beneath your feet. Simon walks in, grocery bags in hand pulling the mask off his face,

“Alright so they didn’t have the chocolates you wanted but I got-” he stops mid-sentence when he notices you, dropping the bags on the floor and crossing the room to stand beside you. “What happened love?” he presses a soft hand to your back whilst glancing around the kitchen, noticing the spill on the floor while you stand beside the shattered mug on the counter, immediately he turns his gaze to scan over your form, checking for any signs of injury. He brings a hand up to lightly hold your cheek, turning you to face him. Your eyes are puffy, your cheeks stained with tears as your messy hair falls around to frame your face.

“I just wanted some tea, I- the mug slipped,” you say through sniffles, 

“S’alright doll,” he says, pulling you against him, flush with his chest as his arms come up to snake around your back, thumbs brushing lightly over the tense muscles.

“God why can’t anything ever just be easy,” you say, he responds with a light chuckle.

“C’mon love, let’s get you cleaned up.

He guides your body through your bedroom, hands only leaving you to turn the faucet on the bathtub. He prompts you to lift your arms so he can remove the large shirt covering you, placing light kisses over your bare skin before moving down to help you step out of your shorts, your hands moving to settle on his shoulders in an effort to steady yourself. Holding your hand he lets you step into the tub, settling yourself before leaving the room to grab some towels and a mug of tea for you. You sit in the warm water, arms hugging your knees to your chest as you feel the water rise and Simon settle behind you, pulling you into his broad chest.

Your head settles against his shoulder as he moves his hands to run through your hair, light scratching at your scalp. You feel yourself practically melt into him, turning your head to gaze up at him. He looks down at your face as a hand comes to cup your jaw, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Thank you” he responds only by placing a soft kiss on your forehead before settling his arms around your stomach, holding you to him. The two of you sit quietly, the silence only broken by Simon’s soft hums as he rests his cheek against your head. You feel yourself slowly nodding off to sleep in the warm comfort of his arms before he slowly makes his way out of the bath, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He makes his way back over to you with a second towel, helping you out before lightly wrapping it around your body, leaning down to place another kiss, this time to your lips.

The two of you make your way to your bedroom, throwing on a pair of underwear and one of his shirts before settling yourself into the bed, feeling the mattress dip under his weight as he positioned himself beside you, tugging you close to him as you extend your arm over his chest, legs tangling between his.

“You wanna watch a movie?” he asks, fingers threading through your hair.

A small mmm is all you answer as he reaches for the remote to turn on the television.

“Which one lovie?” he says while flicking through the options.

“Pride and Prejudice” you mumble, your face practically buried in his bare chest.

His chest rises with a small laugh, “alright”. He’d never admit it out loud, but he loved watching so-called girly movies with you, he loved the way your face would light up when the couple finally got together, or how tears would brim your eyes during the emotional scenes. Hitting play on the movie, the two of you watch silently as his hands move down to brush light patterns over your skin, within 10 minutes you fall asleep, limbs clinging to him, as he nestles you closer into his chest, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of your breath he falls asleep right next to you, movie long forgotten.

[forcryingoutlloud]

Greedy

or ‘beg for it’ pt 2

warnings: smut (18+ minors dni!), cursing, slight bondage?, degradation, slapping, spitting, masturbation (m), cumplay, unprotected p in v, fingering, dom matty

a/n: it’s quite a long one so buckle up! i feel slightly ashamed that my brain came up with this but oh well. enjoy!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

“please- fuck!” she sobbed out, utterly exhausted as she tried to close her legs to stop the torture. he tutted at her, turning off the vibrator that he had placed on her clit and moving off the bed.

her head whipped up and looked at him, his back muscles tensing as he rooted around for something in the bottom of the wardrobe. “w-what are you doing?”

he turned back to face her with a smirk, holding a pair of silk ties in his hands. she gulped and his smirk widened as he took slow, deliberate steps towards her on the bed.

“what was the one thing i told you to do before we started?” he raised an eyebrow at her and she took a few deep breaths before whimpering.

“keep my legs open.” she pouted and looked down, not able to stomach the fact that she had disappointed him. he grabbed her chin between his fingers and brought her gaze back to him.

he frowned at her and cocked his head to the side. “and what did you do?”

“i closed my legs,” she mumbled, tears brimming her eyes. she was deeply submissive at this point, all the orgasms he had given her had wiped her head of every thought that had nothing to do with him.

“yeah,” he hummed. he brought his hand down her body, brushing past her nipple and ghosting down her core, before grasping her ankles. “now i have to tie them apart since you can’t do as your told, stupid little slut.”

he tied each of her legs to the posts at the end of the bed, and she felt exposed under his hungry gaze.

his eyes darkened at the sight of her all spread out for him to use however he pleased. he took a deep breath and snuck a hand under his boxers to palm himself, giving him some relief. he closed his eyes in pleasure and tipped his head back, until she let out an utterly desperate moan.

he brought his eyes back to her face and cocked an eyebrow, “something wrong sweetheart?”

his eyes ran over her body, not quite sure where to focus on. her eyes that were filled with tears, her heaving chest and hardened nipples or her core that was all puffy and swollen from his actions in the last hour.

she whimpered again and he brought a hand down to harshly slap her thigh. “words, brat.”

she blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the words in her brain before she even attempted to speak them.

“want you to t-touch me,” she gazed up at him through doe eyes and fluttered her lashes, “please daddy?”

he scoffed and took his hand out of his boxers, placing them on each of her thighs and sliding them up to her hips so he was leaning over her.

“such a greedy little slut,” he clenched his jaw and brought his fingers down to lazily rub at her clit. the pornographic-like moan she let out at the contact brought a slight smirk to his face. “i’ve given you, what, 6 orgasms and you still want more? desperate little whore.”

she whined and writhed against the sheets, pulling against the ties, just wanting to touch him. “want you to fuck me, please!”

“aw little princess wants me to fuck her?” he shook his head at her and moved off the bed to take his boxers off. his cock was rock hard and leaking precum and she let out a garbled moan at the sight of it.

“well that’s too bad princess,” he pressed kisses up her body, quickly sucking a nipple in his mouth, continuing his pecks before he stopped right next to her ear. “you don’t deserve it.”

she whined, displeased with his words but stopped when he placed a firm slap on her face. “enough of the whining, you don’t deserve it and you know i’m right. not after the little stunt you pulled.”

he clenched his jaw and she sighed, knowing he was right, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.

“now, you’re going to lay there and watch me, and if you move an inch or make the slightest noise, i’ll get myself off and leave you there wet, needy and pathetic until you’ve learnt your lesson, understand?”

she had to fight the urge to whine at the thought of him pleasuring himself and not being able to help, but she knew the reward afterwards for being good was far more worth it. reluctantly, she nodded.

“words sweet girl.”

“i understand, sir.”

he smiled at her and pecked her lips lightly, “good girl.”

the sweet act was gone as quickly as it appeared. his face hardened and he sat on his knees beside her, giving her a good view of the show he was going to put on. he wrapped a hand around his cock and sighed at the feeling. it didn’t feel as good as it would’ve if it was her pussy, but she didn’t need to know that.

“fuck..” he groaned as his hand ran over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it around his cock. he stroked himself in short, quick motions, desperate to reach his orgasm. he felt he had been teased enough after her relentless edging, and the sight of her cumming more times than he can remember brought him a lot closer to the edge than he cares to admit.

he brought his bottom lip between his teeth as he tugged at his cock, throwing his head back in bliss. “shit, ‘s so good, fuck!”

she, on the other hand, was not having a good time. she had to bite her lip so hard she could now taste blood so she wouldn’t make a noise, while ignoring every instinct she had to try and reach out and touch him.

his movements quickened when he opened his eyes to look at her, smirking at her glassy eyes and pouting lips.

“oh sweet girl,” he mocked her, pouting condescendingly before being cut off by a moan at the feeling of his rapidly approaching orgasm. “i’m gonna paint that pretty face in my cum, shit-.”

despite her efforts, she whined at the thought of being covered in his cum like some sort of erotic masterpiece, and felt a rush of arousal through her core.

he smirked at the noise. “yeah, want me to cover you in my cum? course you do, just a dumb little fucktoy for me to use as i please, isn’t that right baby?”

she nodded furiously, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out, awaiting his release.

he groaned and let his saliva drop from his mouth into hers, groaning at the look in her eyes. “hold it for me baby, don’t swallow.”

she whined and furrowed her eyebrows, but relaxed when he angled his cock at her face, cursing under his breath. “fuck gonna cum- fuck fuck fuckkk!”

his orgasm hit and he came in white spurts, hitting her chest, her face and some getting in her mouth. he took a few deep breaths to calm himself before scooping some of his cum off her tits with his fingers and pushing them in her mouth.

“suck.” she sucked his fingers diligently, moaning as she did so. he pulled his fingers from her mouth and wrapped a hand around her jaw. “swallow.”

she swallowed obediently, mewling at the taste. he groaned and crashed his lips onto hers, shoving his tongue into her mouth. he pulled away from her and positioned himself over her, lining his still hard cock at the opening of her pussy.

she whined and looked up at him with wide eyes, silently begging him to fuck her. he smirked and slammed into her, giving her no time to adjust to his size.

she screamed at the intrusion, pulling at the ties around her wrists and whining when she realized she still couldn’t touch him. “please sir, w-wanna touch you, fuck!-.” he smirked down at her and brought his fingers down to her clit and rubbed in rhythmic circles.

“i know you do princess,” he pouted at her mockingly. “cum for me and then i’ll untie your wrists.”

she whimpered, but cumming for him wasn’t gonna be an issue. she’d been close to release since he started touching himself, and the way he was fucking her now was going to push her over the edge in no time.

the coil began to form in her stomach and she moaned, her muscles clenching around him.

“fuck, you’re so tight- you gonna cum for me sweet girl? yeah, drench my cock baby, such a little slut for me-.”

she’s not sure what it was that threw her over the edge; if it was his dirty words, the way his cock was slamming into her repeatedly, or a combination of everything, but her orgasm crashed into her.

she arched her back and screamed, chanting his name over and over again repeatedly.

her legs twitched in the aftershocks of her orgasm, but his thrusts never stopped.

“my good girl, fuck- made such a mess, dirty little slut-,” he reached up and untied her wrists, and she wasted no time wrapping them around his shoulders and digging her nails into his back, leaving red scratches in her wake.

“fuck matty-,” she closed her eyes and threw her head back, slowly starting to be overstimulated.

she looked up at him, in a way that she hoped came off as seductive, and whimpered in his ear. “want you to cum for me daddy, please. i’ve been so good, wan’ you to fill up my pussy.”

he groaned at her words and his hips stuttered, but he quickly regained his composure.

“yeah? this slutty little cunt is just begging to be filled huh? no matter how many orgasms i give you, you’ll never be happy until you’re dripping with my cum will you? shit!”

his cock twitched inside her and she clenched her walls around him as best as she could, and he came with a cry of her name. he thrust into her a few more times before his cock softened, slowly pulling out of her.

his eyes snapped down to her core, where a stream of white liquid was slowly pouring out of her. he stifled a groan and pushed it back into her with two fingers, causing her to whine at the overstimulation. he looked up and cooed at her, slowing his fingers but not removing them.

“i know sweet girl, just have to make sure it stays where it belongs, we can’t have any going to waste can we?”

she pouted, but nodded, sure that she would agree to anything he said in this state. his thumb accidentally rubbed her clit and she hissed, her eyes filling with tears and he withdrew his fingers.

“oh i’m sorry baby, ‘s too much is it?”

he stuck his fingers in her mouth and she sucked, moaning at the taste and he smiled at her.

“such a good girl, did so well for me.”

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Through The Shadows: Chapter 2 - Breaking Barriers

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Summary: A hunter's Journey through despair and recovery is guided by Dean Winchester's unwavering love, leading her to reclaim her strength, voice and hope for their shared future.

Chapter Summary: After Dean confronts Y/N in the kitchen, he realizes there is more than meets the eye.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

Dean Winchester slammed the door to his room, frustration bubbling over.

It had been a week since Y/N moved into the bunker, and she had been a ghost herself-quiet, distant and always slipping away when he entered a room. He couldn't make sense of it. Why did she act so differently around Sam, laughing and talking easily, but turn silent and withdrawn around him?

Dean paced the room before heading to the library where Sam was buried in research. "Hey Sammy," He began, irritation clear in his voice. "What's up with Y/N? She acts like I've got the plague or something."

Sam looked up from his book, his expression thoughtful. "Have you talked to her about it?"

Dean scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Talked to her? How am I supposed to talk to someone who won't even look at me?"

Sam closed his book, giving Dean his full attention. "There's something you should know. She's not avoiding you because she doesn't like you. It's more complicated than that. But it's not my place to explain. You need to talk to her. Listen to her."

Dean frowned, Sam's words echoing in his mind. "Fine, I'll talk to her. But if this goes south, it's on you."

Dean found Y/N in the kitchen, quietly making a coffee. She didn't look up as he entered, her focus on her task. The sight made his chest tighten with a mix of irritation and something he couldn't quite name.

"Hey." He said, leaning against the counter, his tone sharper than intended.

"Y/N'S hands stilled, her eyes fixed on the countertop. "Hi." She replied softly, not meeting his gaze.

Dean took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Can I ask you something."

Her breathing hitched and she nodded in response.

"Why are you always so cold towards me? You're fine with Sam, but you act like you can't stand to be in the same room with me."

Her face paled, her hands trembling slightly as she set down her coffee mug. "I'm not-" she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not that. I-" She stuttered, clearly struggling to find the words.

Dean's frustration flared. "If you don't want to be around me, just say so." He snapped, turning to leave.

"I have a disorder!" She suddenly blurted out, her voice cracking in embarrassment and emotion.

Dean stopped in his tracks, turning back to her with a look of confusion. "What?"

Her eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and determination as she forced herself to speak. "I have severe anxiety and depression. It's not that I don't like you. It's just... hard for me to open up especially around someone like you. You're... Brave and strong and.... amazing at what you do." Her voice faltered on the last word, and she looked away, her face flushed.

Dean felt his own cheeks warm at her unexpected compliment. He took a hesitant step towards her, his anger evaporating. "I didn't know," he said quietly, his voice softening in understanding. "I thought... I thought you just didn't like me."

She hook her head, tears brimming in her eyes in embarrassment. "It's not that, I just get so anxious around you because you're intimidating, and.... because you've been kind of cold to me too."

Guilt washed over Dean as he looked back at his behaviour towards her. He had misread her completely, letting his own insecurities cloud his judgement. "I'm sorry." he said, his voice thick with regret. "I shouldn't have confronted you like this."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "It's okay. I'm sorry for making you feel like I didn't like you."

Dean took a step closer, his hand reaching out instinctively to touch her arm. She flinched slightly and he pulled back, curising at himself for his insensitivity. "I didn't mean to scare you." He said softly, "I just... I didn't know."

Y/N nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I know, and I'm sorry too, for everything. If you want me to leave I can."

He met her gaze, his heart aching slightly at the raw honesty in her eyes. "You don't have to leave. I don't want you to leave," He said, his voice gentle. "Stay. We will figure this out together."

She gave him a nervous smile, the tension easing from her face. "Okay. I'll stay."

As they stood there, an understanding formed between them and Dean realized just how wrong he had been about her. And maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something better.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 3 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[gangrenados]

Ok but going off on the tying Dick up ask what if he did ask princess to use him as a toy and she just ends up teasing him while she’s chasing her orgasm to the point where he wishes he could break out of the ropes and fucks princess to the point of overstimulation and she ends up mocking him when he begs her to let him cum and praising him for being her toy to use for her own pleasure. Maybe she would even mockingly degrade him for wanting to be used as a toy.

OKAY HEAR ME OUT Riding Dick so slowly it's about to make him bawl his eyes out UGH I want him to be my bitch 😭😫

Warning: sub/dom dynamic, mention of breeding kink, oral (male receiving), fem!reader

Dick's exposed to you in all his naked glory, but sadly he can't see a thing due the blindfold.

He hates it, he hates the goosebumps that forms on his warm skin as your fingers ghost over it

He hates the cuffs that ties him to the bad by his hands and feet, also the gag that's keeping him quiet and making the drool run down his chin.

Dick squirm and shakes when he felt you grabbing his cock, pumping it up and down and teasing the head so he can suffer a little more.

A strangled moan leaves his lips when you take him on your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and pressing your tongue flat against the shaft to suck him off so agonizingly good that got his back arched.

"Easy pretty boy, I haven't even started and you look like you're about to cum!" You chuckle, whipping off the precum from your swollen lips.

You would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy having Dick like this, so vulnerable and so horny just for you. It was candy to the eye and the little desperate sounds he was making got your pussy soaked.

"You want to fuck me?" You purred, climbing on top of him with ease." You want to be inside of me, my love?"

Dick's breath hitched on his throat when you grabbed him by the chin, leaning down to give a quick peck to the ball bag that had him muted.

You grabbed his throbbing cock and lined it with your entrance," You're such a pathetic whore."

Dick whined at your words." So uptight in front of the others, but look at you now. What a pretty needy slut you turned out to be."

"Please," he mumbled, words coming out strangle thanks to the ball on his mouth.

You sunk down slowly on his dick, enjoying how good he was making you feel. You rode Dick at a slow pace, testing the waters and adjusting to his girth.

"I bet you would love to fill me up with cum," you said with a breathy moan." To pump me up to the brim and hope you got me knocked up. You're dirty like, aren't you boy wonder?"

Dick nodded, unable to keep his composure and thrust up into you. It caught you off guard" ah, Dick!" You cried out, breaking out of character and enjoying the feeling of being fucked.

"Hey no, stop it slut!" You put your hands firmly on Dick's chest and getting up from his hard cock to sit on his stomach." Listen, you're my toy today, not the other way around."

Your stern voice made shivers run down Dick's spine, he loved it more than he was willing to admit. "You better behave if you want to cum tonight or even being touched. Are we clear, Grayson?"

You pulled his blindfold down to look at his beautiful eyes, Dick had to squint a few times to adjust to the light, but he was marveled to your moody face throwing orders at him." Yes ma'am."

[thecryptidenthusiast]

Title: i just want to give you all i can (1/2)

Rating: M (Will Increase to E)

Pairing: ChargeStep

Summary: A Ranger is turning 40, and you decide to make an appearance at his party.

AO3 link if you want to read there instead!

The banquet hall is packed to the brim, people crammed from one wall to the other. You aren’t sure there’s ever been another time where you’ve felt so out of place.

You weren’t stupid, you knew to expect a crowd -this is as much a publicity stunt as it is any kind of celebration. ‘Congratulations on turning 40, Charge. Here’s to hoping we can squeeze one more year out of you before going for the next new model!’ Rubbing elbows and double-edged smiles, everybody playing the same song and dance as if they aren’t all just cogs to the same machine.

Easy to break.

Even easier to replace.

Ortega is eating it up though, because why wouldn’t he? All eyes have been on him the entire evening, just how he likes it.

Catching glimpses of him from the alcove you’d tucked yourself into wasn’t hard. He’d flit from one group to the next, a peacock showing off its plumage. Camera-perfect smile and winks meant to make somebody swoon. He had the audacity to invite you, and then run around like an idiot all night.

No, not even an invite, not really. It was more a comment thrown out like he was just fulfilling a social expectation. That tone of you won’t come anyways, but I’d come across like an asshole if I didn’t mention it.

Not an invitation, it felt more like a goddamn challenge.

He’s found a new group to migrate to, a group of men and women all dressed to the nines. The women are gorgeous, and at least half his age. Doesn’t stop him from grinning, doesn’t stop them from touching his arms in an overly-friendly gesture. Does he even know them? Probably not. He’s managed to lose his tie somewhere between the last time you’d seen him and now, so he’s opted for unbuttoning his shirt well beyond the point of “proper formal attire”.

One of the women, the shortest one with the red dress that’s slit up to her thigh, tugs Ortega down to say something in his ear. Close, so close and he just goes along with a smile you want to slap him. Something twists in your chest.

You could leave.

You should leave. Slip back outside and vanish into the night like a ghost, instead of haunting the halls of this place. Get away from the bodies, the minds pressing down on your shields from all directions. Fingers scratching, looking to find any cracks in your defenses. All the time that’s passed may have made you stronger, but the world hasn’t gotten any quieter, and it’s still so damn exhausting. You can feel that tell-tale pulse starting behind your left eye, a migraine brewing like an afternoon storm.

Just go.

It’s not like it’s your fault Ortega’s been too busy basking in the limelight. You made an appearance, even when you knew he hadn’t expected it. You filled your end of that social expectation.

A caterer shuffles a little too close, a tray of champagne flutes precariously balanced on one hand, and you press yourself further against the wall. Pull your shields up just a bit tighter, fight against that throbbing ache so the man just glosses over your existence entirely.

It’s like a bruise you can’t help but pressing just to feel it hurt, deciding to stay. Feet still rooted to the obnoxious marble floor and watch the humming buzz of life move around you. Always looking in - it doesn’t matter what you’ve molded yourself into. It doesn’t matter that you were invited by Charge himself; you can dress the part, but no amount of hair product or designer clothes can hide the fact you don’t belong. Grubby hands leaving smudges on a window into something you’ll never have a place in.

Eden would fit in here. Pretty face and a smile sharper than any blade. The kind of woman a person can’t help but bend and listen to. Even Enigma could - they would grab the world by the throat and demand to be noticed. To be seen.

Not you, though.

Not Erin Becker.

A woman in a dress that brushes the floor glances your way, eyes lingering a little too long. Wondering who you are, should you be here? Maybe she should get security?

The ‘nudge’ you meant for is closer to a telepathic shove: forget about the stranger, a featureless face fading into the crowds. It’s more important to find the way to the hall’s bathrooms.

You may be too stubborn to leave just yet, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you can’t just keep standing here. Sweat has your dress shirt sticking to your back, and you’d peel your jacket off if it didn’t feel like the extra layer is the only thing keeping you held together.

‘...never have the right champagne…’

How did you manage to do this? Two lifetimes ago, blending into events like this was why you were useful. The tool taken out of its box from time to time.

‘...a few more drinks, and may he’ll sign-off on…’

Was it easier back then, or did you just have more to lose? Be the good dog, don’t cause any problems. Sit, stay, roll over-

‘...waste of resources…’

-play dead.

But the good thing about being the ghost of a room? Nobody cares enough to keep you out of restricted spaces. You sure as hell aren’t going to let Ortega think he’s won by running with your tail between your legs, but there’s no reason why you can’t adapt.

~~~

He’s not disappointed.

A person has to get their hopes up to be disappointed by something, and too many years have taught him to keep any wishful thinking in check. Too much optimism and life will find a way to crush a person under its heel.

So, no, Ricardo Ortega is absolutely not disappointed. Besides, it’s his birthday. There’s an open bar, courtesy of the Rangers’ budget. The catered food is decent, and the music isn’t half bad for once. What more could a guy ask for?

Sure, half the people here are barely more than strangers, and there’s some people here he’d rather not see at all (good to see Blaze still hasn’t gotten that stick out of his ass, even after so many years). And sure, the one person he’d actually been looking for is a no-show, but there’s nothing new there.

The small cluster of people around him erupt into laughter over…something. Investors and potential donors he’s supposed to be playing nice with, but he’s already checked out of whatever conversation they’ve been having without him.

“What do you think, Ricardo?” Seems like they aren’t content to just let him coast after all - the smarmy looking guy with the flushed face and sweat-damped hair is looking directly at him. Ricardo, like they know one another. Ricardo, like they’re friends. Like this isn’t just a glorified business exchange, chasing whatever connections will benefit him best.

The man is smiling, but all Ortega can think about is animals baring their teeth as a threat.

“I think it’s time for a fresh drink,” His own smile is a well-practiced one, with just the right amount of mocking. The sort of smile that says ‘no, I wasn’t listening, and you’re not as impressive as you’re trying to be’. He rattles the ice in his glass for good measure. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for any more niceties, just turns around and carves a path across the room, leaving the man to scoff at his back as he goes.

It’s less congested at the bar, a small mercy of the evening. The bartender barely pays him any mind beyond asking what he wants, which is another refreshing change of pace. He figures he wouldn’t get the entire bottle if he asked, so he settles for another old fashioned.

He doesn’t acknowledge the familiar looming presence that shows up at his side, just keeps his eyes on the illuminated wall of liquor bottles.

“If you’re going to lecture me about pacing myself, you can relax.” Ortega sighs, more annoyed than anything, “This is my third one.”

“You’re sulking.” He can’t see Chen’s face as the man watches the crowd, just the broad expanse of his back.

“Am I?” The bartender returns, leaving the drink before quickly moving to another patron. Liquid courage in hand, he finally turns to face the other man head on. Makeup got their hands on him, it would seem. Scars softened to be digestible to the masses, wearing a suit Chen hates. Another piece to be polished and shined for the public tonight.

“That’s what it looks like, yes.”

“I’m fine.” Mask back on, he gives him his most charming of smiles to drive the point home.

Too bad Chen knows him well enough to see right through it. “Are you?”

“I’m great.” He says as he turns, pressing his back against the edge of the bar to people-watch with Chen. It’s a sea of faces, to the point they’re almost blurring together. Some dancing, others drinking. Conversations the music is drowning out, and laughter it isn’t loud enough for.

“The party’s a hit,” He nods towards the crowd, “Why wouldn’t I be feeling great?”

“Do I really need to say it?” Leave it to Chen not to give a guy slack on his own birthday. He can feel his stare at the side of his head, but he pointedly keeps his eyes forward.

“I just don’t know when these stopped being fun,” It’s an easy deflection to the point he’s aiming for, and it’s not even a complete lie. “I know these things were always for work, but at least we enjoyed ourselves a little. But now?” He shrugs, managing a rueful smile.

Chen watches him, just a little beyond the point of being comfortable, before shaking his head. “You’re not 25 anymore, Ricardo.”

The comment is delivered with all the softness of a baseball bat to the skull. Ortega scoffs into his glass, taking a long drink like it can sooth the slight sting.

“Thank you so much for that reminder-“

“You’re not 25,” He cuts him off, “So maybe you forgot you’ve always hated these…events.”

Events. A performance under the guise of a party. Still, that doesn’t add up - sure, they weren’t a blast, but hated? He certainly doesn’t remember that. He turns to argue the point, but the other man pushes on before he can get a word in, “Maybe you convinced yourself you didn’t, or told yourself you liked the attention, but you were always happier afterwards.”

…afterwards. Descending on Hoots like a maelstrom, or finding whatever karaoke bar was still open. A smaller group, but people he actually wanted to spend time around - no cameras, at least not any more than being a public figure entails. Nobody to put a show on for, just him, having a night out with friends.

That feels like a lifetime ago now. He doesn’t have to count back to know exactly what year they stopped being fun.

“Maybe you’re right.” He sighs, eyes downcast to his glass. He very much feels every one of his 40 years all of a sudden.

“That happens from time to time.” He doesn’t smile, but there’s a fond glance thrown his way. “And for what it’s worth…Iam sorry about Becker.”

Of course he isn’t going to let that drop.

“I wasn’t expecting them to show.” Ortega says, mindlessly taking another swig just to grimace at the mostly-watered down taste. “They didn’t remember last year.” Why would this year be any different? Despite everything that-

No, it doesn’t sting. Not a bit.

“Right.” Chen’s got the look on his face that usually means there’s an impending lecture coming, but he must notice something Ortega isn’t hiding well enough, because he holds his thoughts to himself. “Just don’t go overboard, okay?”

“Relax, I’ll be sure to keep the PR scandals to a minimum.” He claps him on the shoulder, which does nothing but earn him a put-out groan (although it’s a little too amused to really be considered annoyed). Chen gives his arm a soft squeeze before stepping away, quickly vanishing amidst the people. Probably off looking for a place to get away from the crowds.

Vanishing, leaving Ortega alone to stew.

He’ll have to open presents soon. Not all of them, just enough to get some decent tabloid shots. Another spectacle; jump, smile, dance for the cameras. Make a good impression and be a good little Ranger for the paparazzi. The same loop stuck on repeat every single year. Most, if not all, of the gifts will be from brands of some sorts, looking for representation without the hassle of contracts. The ability to say, ‘Hey, look! Charge is wearing our product, don’t you want it, too?’

Maybe the cynicism just comes along with age, getting too old to enjoy the veneer of publicity. Or maybe he’d been spending too much time around Erin. Free stuff is free stuff, who is he to complain about where it came from? Maybe he’ll get a new watch.

He gives the gift table a once over, looking to see which ones will be the fastest to open, when he stops. One bag catches his eye purely because of how out of place it looks: nestled between gaudy silver and Ranger-blue, it’s there like a misshapen void. A simple black gift bag, folded and creased to the point that bits of the white paper beneath are peeking through.

Either it’s a prank, or a very strange attempt at rigging a trap at his party, and both options sound more appealing than making another round through the crowds. More hands to shake, more conversations he’ll have to pretend to give a shit about.

He’d take an explosive over any of that right now.

He should probably let somebody know about it, but a mix of boredom and morbid curiosity has him walking over and plucking it up himself. It’s too early in the night for this, somebody’s probably going to complain, but to hell with them.

There’s no tag on it, nothing to signify who might’ve left it here. No calling card, either, so it’s less likely to be a surprise from whatever villain of the week managed to sneak past security. It really is just an old gift bag, creased to the point it’s faded in spots. There’s almost a certain level of respect to whoever left something so intentionally shitty

He doesn’t bother looking first, just shoves his hand in with no hesitation. No tissue paper, just a card that he ignores in favor of grabbing the paper-covered lump at the bottom.

Whoever wrapped this thing seemed to think using an entire newspaper was hilarious, and by the time he reaches the end, he’s got a pile of shredding at his feet.

And then it registers what he’s holding, and his mind stutters to a halt. Fingertips carefully trace the familiar ceramic, it’s black and blue paint glossy in the lights of this banquet hall.

Cradling the mug possessively to his chest, he looks up to scan the sea of faces milling around him.

The buzz from his phone is too perfectly timed to be anything but intentional. Still manages to make him jump though, and while the message isn’t a shock, the number is.

Erin’s number. Their actual number, not one of the dozens of burners they have.

From: E.B [21:43]:

The roof.

His eyes snap up to the banquet hall’s skylight, squinting against the gleam of the lights. Is there a figure up there, dark against night sky? Or just his own wishful thinking?

Another buzz.

From: E.B [21:44]:

If your geriatric bones can handle the stairs.

~~~~~

Getting access to the roof was an easy feat - a benefit of being somebody people don’t pay a second thought to: you’ve always excelled at getting into places you weren’t supposed to be.

The air is as muggy as ever, humid to the point it feels like sticky hands dragging against your skin.

Still, it’s practically a breath of fresh air compared to being stuck downstairs.

Up this high, you perch on the ledge and just…watch. A passive spectator, viewing life from above; bodies and cars, all coming and going from one place to another. Life rolling onwards. It’s easier to exist like this - at a distance. This high, you can let your shields unwind. There are too many minds, and they’re all so far away they bleed into one, indecipherable sound. A quiet buzz at the back of your skull that settles on your frayed nerves like a balm.

Of course, the peace only lasts for so long. You may have texted him, but the loud clang of the maintenance door being thrown open still manages to make you jump.

A new mind, but a familiar sort of static.

“Go ahead and let the whole city know we’re up here while you’re at it?” You snap over your shoulder to cover up your reaction.

You’d expected a stupid comment. Something that would make you roll your eyes, but when you look back at him you see he’s just standing in place, still lingering at the doorway. Twisting around on the ledge, there’s a little rush of your back to nothing but open air. It would be so, so easy to just lean back and…

No, Shake the thought off like a cobweb.

Ortega hasn’t lost that weird look on his face, body poised like he’s about to lunge, and you’re hit with a momentary flair of panic. That animalistic part of your hindbrain you never lost, attack or run. Get away from the threat.

Swallow it. Stomp the fear back where it sprouted from, smirk to hide the unease as you push yourself up and step towards him. Another one, and-

Huh.

He relaxes almost immediately, a marionette with all its strings cut. There’s a flash of relief before his own mask is back in place.

“You actually came.” He’s teasing, but you know him too well to miss the slight awe in his voice. Happy to the point it makes your insides twist uncomfortably.

“You invited me,” Caustic, claws out to deter any softness, “Don’t tell me dementia has set in already.”

“Ouch.” He presses his hand to his chest in an over dramatic gesture, feigning some grievous injury before smiling again. “I know I did, but…”

But this is a surprise.

But he made the invitation out of kindness.

But he never expected you to follow through.

“Don’t be weird about this,” You groan, but it’s already too late for that.

“Me?” He doesn’t waste any time, catching you in an embrace as soon as you’re within his reach. Arms looped around your waist, dragging you close. “I’d never.”

“Liar, you’re always-” The rest of your insult is cut off with his lips pressing against yours. The kiss is slow, languid, tasting like mint and rum. Your arms move on their own accord to loop around his neck - no frantic energy now, not like your past ones, just savoring the peace of being away, being here. Space to exist without prying eyes, carved out for just the two of you.

You pull away at that thought, ready to kick yourself for how sappy that sounds, but Ortega doesn’t let you get very far.

“And you dressed up.” He says appreciatively, looking you over, “You look good.”

That’s enough to make you scoff. “Right.” As if you’re buying that. You feel stupid, and you’re sure the humidity has your hair fighting the product you used. Not good looking, just a frizzy-haired mess.

“I’m serious!” He seems to believe he is, so you let it drop. Not an argument you’ll win, not a hill worth dying on. Instead of answering, you busy yourself by playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. It’s a surprise the stylists haven’t chased him down for a trim, considering they’re always going for that ‘respectably ruffled, effortlessly messy’ approach. Not that you’d complain, gives you more to twist your fingers into.

“I figured my regular clothes wouldn’t get me through the doors of a place like this.” You could’ve forced your way in, make the security not see you, but you’d stand out even more than you already do.

“All these years and I never knew you owned anything besides jackets and jeans.”

“I don’t.” You deadpan, giving his hair a sharp tug, “There’s a naked mannequin in a window of an boutique uptown.”

“I can see the headlines already: ‘Enigma Terrorizes Local Clothes Stores’.” It’s meant to be a joke, but that doesn’t stop the unease that curls up your spine, making you stiffen. He must notice the shift, because he’s quick to let you go, and you put a little space between you both.

“So,” He drawls, obviously scrambling to save the mood before it can sour further, “Why a Sidestep mug?”

Not the direction you were expecting him to go. “What?”

“Seems a little egotistical, you know?” An over the top shrug and a shit-eating smile, “Getting me one of your pieces of merch on my birthday and all.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the idiot that kept the old, broken one.” It’s harmless teasing, you know that, but defensiveness still prickles across your skin like barbs. You’d felt stupid buying the thing to begin with, and standing here, that feeling comes creeping back in. What are you supposed to get somebody who’s used to getting whatever they want? But your old mug seemed to matter to him, for whatever reason. Enough to keep. To try and glue back together. It mattered to him.

Which made it matter to you.

“Erin,”

“Whatever.” You really don’t want to continue this conversation, shoving your hands in your pockets, shoulders rising to your ears. “I know it was a stupid gift, but at least this one isn’t covered in glue.”

“Maldita sea, no puedo hacerlo bien.” His smile is a rueful one. “Can’t keep my foot out of my mouth tonight, I guess.”

“It’s fine. No different than any other night.” At least that makes him look a little less sullen.

“I do love it.” He says, as sincere as you’ve ever heard him. And sure, he may just be humoring you, but damn him, that little knot of anxiety that had been twisting up in your chest loosens, just a little.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” He’s speaking with the solemnness of somebody swearing an oath, not talking about an ugly coffee mug. “Best gift out of all of them.”

And just like that, the bubble of tension that had been slowly brewing pops, leaving exasperated amusement in its wake.

You snort, “Liar. You didn’t even open the others.”

“Doesn’t matter,” He steps close, clearly restraining himself from dragging you into another embrace, “Nothing else could beat it.”

“Idiot.” What else are you supposed to say? To the man acting like you gave him a priceless art piece, and not a novelty mug you found at a thrift shop.

All he’s mentioned yet is the mug, though, leaving you wondering…

“Did you see the card?”

“It slipped my mind,” Curiosity overrides the desire to stay close as he makes a B-line for the gift bag he left by the door. “Somebody interrupted with cryptic texts.”

“It got you up here.”

You didn’t bother writing anything on the envelope, you knew he was nosy enough to open it no matter what. There’s a flash of blue as he pulls it free, and you watch him peel the envelope open, taking in the horrendous card he’s holding.

“No dicks on this one, either. You could’ve opened it in front of a crowd.” The terrible, raunchy ones were more Themmy’s thing. They always got an evil sort of delight making the unfortunate recipient flush out of embarrassment.

What it lacks in genitalia, it makes up for with terrible caricatures of what you think is supposed to be the Rangers. It looks more like a picture blown up too large and printed out, the features of everybody bleeding together to the point they’re unrecognizable blobs of color. And on the front in big, blocky white and blue letters, it reads:

Have A

Super-Charged Day!

“Did you know there are still bodegas down at the pier selling knock-off merch?” It had been years since you last saw one. A hazy memory of warm evenings, wandering the quieter streets with Themmy. Of laughing until your ribs ached. “You almost ended up with a ‘Ranger Cherge’ keychain.”

It’s not the greatest card, but you’d expected at least a huff of a laugh. A comment about the card not catching his likeness, anything. But instead, Ortega is just staring at the card, terrifyingly still for once in his life.

“Ortega…?” Shit, it’s definitely not the funniest thing in the world, but you don’t think it’s silent treatment levels of bad. With his head down, you can’t get a decent read on his face, so you take a few tentative steps towards him. Leave enough room to- what? Run?

“Ricardo?”

In a flash of movement far too quick for his dumb old man body, he’s crossing the space in a few steps and crushing you to him in a tight hug. Probably should have seen this coming, but he was fast enough your brain doesn’t even get a chance to process that you should be panicking at the touch.

“Thank you.” He says, voice thick with emotion, and now panic sets in. Angry or annoyed you can handle, not teary Ortega!

“Ugh!” You squirm, trying to get your arms between your bodies to shove him off, “You’re being weird again!”

“Shut up and let me have this, you ass.” He laughs, a wet, broken sound. Neither of you want to acknowledge the tears.

You sigh, giving him an awkward couple pats on the back. “You’ve had too much to drink.” He can usually hold his alcohol, but you know he can be an emotional drunk when he gets started.

“Heh. Maybe.” You get one final squeeze, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he’s not here to hold you. But he backs off, quickly turning to tuck the card back in the bag. You pointedly find an interesting stain on the concrete beneath your feet to stare while he puts himself back together, and when he turns back around, his easy-going grin is back in place. No trace of tears, masks back in place. Sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened.

Down below, the music shifts its tone. Fast, rhythmic beats are replaced with something slower - not quite party music, but probably a chance to give a break to the ears of everyone attending. Up with the pair of you, it’s little more than an echo, bouncing up the stairwell. An ethereal sort of sound, something that could easily be stolen away by the wind.

Ortega glances from you, to the maintenance door, and back again. There’s a glint in his eye, but before you get the chance to ask what he’s thinking, he holds a hand out to you.

“Dance with me?” It’s not your Ortega asking, but an echo. Ricardo, ten years younger. Ricardo, ten years lighter. On another night, on a different rooftop.

…A popup concert at the park.

You made an offhand comment, asked what that was. You’d never seen one, which everybody in the break room seemed to find weird. Weirder still that you’d never been to one, not even in passing

Of course Ortega didn’t pass up the chance to invite you. And like an idiot, you went.

But the crowds had been packed tight, people from shoulder to shoulder, front to back. Your neck prickled at the thought of getting too close. Not worth the effort. Not worth the impending migraine.

But Ortega pulled some strings - he’d always been so good at that. Got you both rooftop access on a building just across the street. No crowds, no minds pressing on your shields.

Just music and his static brain.

…you never let him call it a date.

You knew he wanted to.

“Erin?” Past bleeds away like blood from an open wound. Your Ortega once more - with wrinkles and new scars. Grey hairs he can’t always hide. Secrets and lies that haunt both your shadows like spirits.

He still has his hand out. Palm-up, waiting for you.

Always willing to wait. And it feels inevitable, slipping your hand into his. Life roughened, the both of you. Scarred and calloused, the bite of metal against your skin. But he tugs you close, and that time doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

And it’s not a dance, not really. Not one your trainers would have approved of, at least. It’s just a lazy sway to your own rhythms - his arms around waist, yours around his neck for a second time this evening. And for a second time, you let yourself just exist.

You didn’t think you’d ever have this again, not after everything. You threw all your cards out on the table, dragged your skeletons from the closet and into the light. Waited for some sort of retaliation - hurt for hurt, truth for truth. After all was said and done, you didn’t expect him to hold you, not with kindness at least. Not looking at you like you’re the most important person in his entire world.

His heart is strong under your ear, if a little fast. You wonder, can he feel yours, too? Pounding, a bird's wings beating against your ribs. You weren’t expecting care, so you’re not sure what to do with it. He should hate you, for everything you’ve done. Everything you’re still going to do.

He should hate you, but he doesn’t, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do, feeling this soft.

“This doesn’t really seem like dancing.” You point out, just to cut through your own brewing thoughts. Stomp those emotions down, kick them back into whatever corner of your mind they’d crawled out of. Deal with them later.

“Really? What kind of dancing were you expecting?” He asks, words curling off his lips in a way that means nothing but trouble. You move to get away, not trusting him or his smirk, but before you can, your world is thrown off balance as he drops you into a dip.

“Ortega!” Definitely one of the less-dignified sounds you’ve ever made, squawking out his name like a bird. Your fingers are claws in his shoulders, clinging for purchase even though part of you knows he wouldn’t drop you.

“Was this what you wanted?” The bastard has the audacity to laugh at you. His hand, the one not braced against your back, is a brand on your hip, trailing along your thigh - skimming down until he hooks his fingers behind the bend of your knee. He brings your thigh up to his hip, forcing you to put your entire weight -and trust- into him to keep you from hitting concrete.

It’s- close. Way too close.

“Hey there.” Switching gears, the charming Ortega is back with a megawatt smile that brings out the wrinkles around his eyes. Annoying bastard doesn’t even seem half as bothered as you.

“Let me up, idiot.” You blame your breathlessness on the surprise, and absolutely nothing else. You swat him upside the back of his head, which has him laughing again, but it has the desired effect of him pulling you back to your feet. He lets you pull away, giving you room to breathe, at least.

But he’s still just looking, to the point his eyes feel like a physical weight on you. “What?” You’re more snappish than you meant to be, but the staring is making your skin itch.

“Come back to my place with me.” Not a question, just a soft spoken request. A plea if you squinted just right at it.

“Ortega…” The excuses are already on the tip of your tongue, but he’s quick to jump in before you can voice them.

“Just, tonight? Nothing has to happen.” He barrels on, like if he’s fast enough, he can stop the inevitable refusal. “Make it a birthday wish?

“You’re being greedy.” You cross your arms and scowl.

“You know me.” Another shot at his charming persona, but this one feels a little more brittle. Always afraid to say good-bye, like it’ll be the last time he ever sees you.

And after all, you do know him. Well enough that if you’re adamant, he’ll drop it. He has in the past. Maybe he’d sulk a little, but never any hard feelings, happy to take whatever you willingly give.

You haven’t been over again, not since the day you went and dumped your entire non-human existence onto him in a creative new form of self-destruction. You hadn’t dared going back - not with that paranoid little voice always scratching at the back of your brain, the one with the images of traps and betrayals around every corner.

You’ve stayed away, and he…hasn’t pushed. Maybe it’s that fact that has you even entertaining the idea creeping into your mind. Knocking at the window, asking for attention. It’s a stupid idea, reckless. How many ways can you throw yourself onto the tracks, hoping the train misses you? How many leaps can you make before you don’t get back up again?

One more plunge.

“Or…you could come to my place, instead?” You almost choke on the words. Stupid, so stupid. Public places, or his apartment, never yours. Never let him close enough to be a threat. But you left that warning in the dust a few too many confessions ago.

“You’re inviting me to your apartment?” He’s shocked, the wide-eyed look only half comedic, “You’re not terminally ill, right? No hours left to live or anything?”

You scowl, embarrassment and annoyance rivaling for the front row now, “If you’re going to be an ass-”

“No! No, I want to go.” He says, practically giddy, you may as well have told him he’d won the jackpot. He’s already grabbing your hand, pulling you in tow, like if he waits too long you’ll snatch the offer back. “Let’s get out of here.”

His excitement has you grinning, and you don’t bother trying to hide it. He stops to grab your gift -not as stupid as you thought it was- before heading for the door. “Are you playing hooky to your own party?”

“Hey, I made the rounds.” He’s leading you down the roof-access stairwell with the determination of a man on a mission, “Besides, it’s my birthday. I can take off if I want. This way.” You’re on the ground floor, but instead of heading towards the main exit, he tugs you down one of the empty hallways.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Garage. Back way in.” The grin he tosses over his shoulder is outright conspiratorial, and you decide to keep the ‘back entrance’ joke you were about to make to yourself. “I rode my bike here.”

“I’m surprised.” Now it’s your turn to tug him around a corner, dodging a catering crew member you sensed coming the other way, bustling with a tray of food. You both wait a breath, and another. Then you squeeze his fingers, silently conveying that the coast is clear, and you’re off again.

“Surprised?”

“That they let you ride here.” You say, innocent and nonchalant. “I thought they’d have rules about senior citizens riding motorcycles, you know?”

This time, you’re dragged to the side for a kiss. Messy and uncoordinated, because neither of you can contain your laughter. He mumbles something, maybe calling you a name, but you’re too happy to care. All you focus on is escaping with him like a pair of overgrown children, sneaking off into the night.

Maybe the party wasn’t half-bad, after all.

[shattersstar]

facing the gun.

pairing: cowboy!jason todd x reader

series summary: the sheriff of the mining town your farmhouse sat outside of, had never done a thing to help you, and when he went missing, well you didn’t bat an eye. the town grappled with the loss and change while a stranger approached you for work, a black hat wearing rider on a pale horse, bringing violence and life to your lonely home.

warnings: lil angst, violence/death mention, jason n reader don’t actually meet in this one (which i feel like i should disclaim)

a/n: ahh ive wanted to write this for a while and im so nervous about starting a series because i dont have the brain for them but!! here’s hoping!! though this is just a prologue i’m hoping to have the first part out shortly <3 enjoy & feedback is always appreciated ! yeehaww

—

prologue. — a stranger shows up in town after a widow leaves, and a quiet farmhouse encounters them both.

It had just been over two months, the mining town starting to come to terms with the fact the sheriff was long gone. Dead or alive didn’t matter—just gone. You could see it in his wife’s eyes, glassy and cold. She moved around town like a ghost, reality setting in and eyes all watching her. It was no surprise she left in the middle of the night, her children loaded into a wagon with her husband’s rifle to her right. You had been the only one to see her leave, sitting on your porch and keeping watch over your land.

She slowed her wagon once her gaze caught the light from your lantern. You squinted, trying discern their faces when you could only see three silhouettes against the deep blue night sky. She stopped at the mouth of your property, before carefully turning down the modest dirt path. It was lined with fenced in cattle on the left and an empty grass field to the right. Your brows pulled together as you watched the wagon move slow and carefully towards you. She stopped short of your lantern's reach, and got off her horse. You knew she could see the gun strewn across your lap, so you weren’t exactly worried.

You were curious if anything.

“I never did believe my husband when he told me you sat out here like this.” She said, the light illuminating her sad face.

“Had to see it for yourself?” You asked, with a raised brow.

“Might as well, girls wanted to know too.” You let out a breathy chuckle at that.

“Pardon me ma’am, but I must say I’m glad to know the sheriff did talk about me, even if he did nothing to help.” Her face didn’t change, no anger for the slandering of her gone husband.

“He used to be a good man. And I’m sorry he didn’t do more for you.” She sighed, sending you a wavering smile before turning back into the darkness.

“Be seeing you.” You called, with a wave of the hand, but she didn’t respond. She stood in front of her horse for a minute before mounting and staring at you through the darkness.

“If he…if he comes back, tell him I’m going east—to my family.”

And then you watched as they were once again into silhouettes in the distance, turning away from the only life they had known and disappearing into the wide world.

You sat outside till the sky started to lighten, an ocean blue instead of the drowning darkness it was hours before. You pushed yourself up, doing a lap of your wraparound porch before heading to bed. Exhaustion had already been pulling at the corners of your mind, and as you got into your bed the interaction with the sheriff’s wife repeated in your head. You dreamt of the moment on an endless loop—her sad eyes staring widely through you before the sound of her broken voice echoed and bled into that of her horse riding away and dragging the old wagon with it. It filled your ears till the point you woke up a few hours later with a jolt, the distant sound of horse shoes clopping hanging in your mind.

You fell back asleep almost instantly after your body calmed down, unaware of the lone rider who had just passed your farm, dawning a wide brimmed black hat and old bandana stained red and something violent. He was the devil who rode a pale horse accordingly, the white streak in the rider’s blacker than night hair opposed the dark grey markings against the white of his mare's forehead.

The pair slunk into the mining town as the sun started to warm the sky, exhaustion tumbling over him as his grip loosened around the reins. His fingers and wrists ached, joints overstressed and burning. He had been riding for a lifetime, just trying to get his furthest away from Gotham, from the life he had made and burned to the ground in the growing city. His only memories stuffed into his pack, and the horse that had been gifted to him by a man who was a father to a boy long dead.

“Put up a tombstone that reads Jason Peter Todd because he is dead from this moment on. To you and Gotham. I will never be back here, not as anyone you know at least old man.”

Jason thought of those words as he passed a farmhouse, sprawling fences with a barn in the distance. He could see a cat walking along one of the gates, keeping an eye over the cows it seemed. He clicked his tongue when he realized his horse had come to a stop at his staring. She picked up her pace again, trotting into the town that had started to awaken. Whispers filled the streets before he showed up, no one even seeming to care for the stranger trudging into the small inn and the weary horse lapping up water from the trough outside. Jason kept his hat on, but pulled his bandana off his face as he stepped inside. It was dark, one candle by the front illuminating the man working and the lone patron eating breakfast.

The keeper seemed to startle at the sight of Jason, who laughed to himself as he approached. “Don’t see many customers this early, sir.” The innkeeper gruffed, earning a hum in acknowledgement. “Not too many passing through these days either.” He added, as Jason set down a handful of coins.

“Don’t need a room for the night, just a few hours and a meal.” He explained, earning a weary glance from the man.

“Were not tha—“

“Kind of establishment, I know. I’ll be leaving this evening.” Jason didn’t add more, holding the man’s gaze. He had just said business was slow, refusing him would be idiotic.

“Get out.” The man apparently was an idiot, and it made Jason scoff. If only this man knew who he had just refused—no. Jason pushed his anger aside, snatching up his coins before he turned on his heels. He wasn’t going to haggle with a stupid man, and arguing only made men stupider. He tied his bandana back around his face as he reached the door, stopping with his hand on the handle.

“Any work nearby?” He asked no one in particular, earning a scoff from the innkeeper before he was interrupted by the man eating his breakfast.

“Nowhere in town stranger, see the mines dried up sometime ago I hear. Some settlements deeper in the valley got work, railroad too, but that’s down West.” He explained between bites.

“Rotten work too.” He replied, earning a chuckle and nod from the bearded stranger, who finally met Jason’s gaze. His eyes were tired, that glassy blue grey colour that seemed to see beyond time.

“Ain’t that the God’s truth stranger!” He all, but hollered, suddenly livelier—younger than he looked moments ago. “Rotten is exactly what that work was—worst time of my life on the tracks.”

“You’ve had your chat, now get going!” The innkeeper interjected suddenly, gearing up to shout more when the bearded stranger slammed his hand on the wooden tabletop.

“Aye—cut it out. You were stupid enough to deny this mans coin for a room, let him buy a meal and chat with me. I like him and Lord knows you need the money.” Jason couldn’t stop the grin pulling at the corner of his lips as the innkeeper stammered for a response.

“F-fine, but you’re both—“

“Getting out after this, we know. Now come take a seat stranger.” The man gestured to the seat across from him. Jason glanced sideways at the innkeeper who seemed scared more than anything. It made his smile fall as he joined the older stranger, taking off his black hat and placing it on the empty seat next to him. The worker vanished somewhere in the back while the two men sat in silence. Until, “Aren’t you—huack—“ He choked before continuing “gon’ tell me your name boy?”

“Call me boy again—“

“Hey, hey. Stranger is it than.” The older man relented, coughing a few times into his shoulder before taking a swig of whatever swirled around his stained mug. “So you’re looking for work?”

“Aye.”

“You picked the wrong stretch of land bo…stranger, its dry and dead out here.”

“How ‘bout that farmhouse, the one few miles outside the town.”

The man laughed, the innkeeper who placed a bowl of what Jason assumed was porridge joined in, both men nearly going blue with their wheezy chuckles. “You would be a fool to take work there, it's where the mothers send their sons for farmhand training or a disciplining.” The innkeeper explained before wandering back to his post.

Jason eyed the man sitting across from him, prompting details with his silent gaze. “Used to be run by a family, all, but one dead and gone. And lemme tell you, the one left is a real son of a bitch.”

“Probably ran the old sheriff outta town—“ The keepers voice piped in from behind Jason.

“Heard they beat the crap outta some miner a year back—“

“They got a temper like no other—“

“Most of the town steers clear unless it’s for business—“

“Damn hard worker though.”

Jason took in the men’s information, downing his food in a handful of spoonfuls before tossing a few coins onto the tabletop. It was more than the innkeeper deserved, but information was always worth paying for.

“Good day stranger.” The old man called from where he sat. Jason slipped his hat back on, about to pull his bandana over his face when the shimmer of the star tucked away under the old man’s coat caught his eye. It was a brief glimpse, but Jason could see the start of the word SHERIFF curved along the bottom of the man’s badge.

It made Jason chuckle, eyes dragging from the badge to the man’s face noticeably so. He grinned as he pushed the door open to venture to this seemingly infamous farmhouse, “And good day to you…deputy.”

—

artwork cred: mark maggiori

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Unraveling

ectoberhaunt2023 day 18-unravel TW- character undeath Summary- Sam tries to figure out what's happening

ao3 ectoberhaunt2023 masterlist part 2 of GD

Sam wandered through the Forest. It was strange. She had seen people discover her body and carry it to town. She was probably lying in a hospital bed next to Danny, both of them stuck in comas. 

The slightly transparent Danny next to her told her what the others, ghosts?, had told him. 

This was an in-between place. Somewhere halfway between the Here and the Other. They were there to guard the Veil. That the Forest had chosen them. That they were meant to guard against the monsters and the Other that tried to come through. That they existed in the Realm Between Realms. They were what helped to make sure nothing left its own plane of existence. Sam had asked if the afterlife was on the other side, Danny had shrugged and said that the other spirits claimed that on the other side of the Veil there was a different world, a world with monsters that wanted to come through and devour this world. 

Sam supposed it was like a faerie circle after all. Something meant to lead you to a different Realm, only they had gotten stuck between worlds.

All the other spirits looked like children too, though many were wearing old-fashioned clothes. They had been pretty accepting of her and Danny. Apparently being kind of dead made people more open to being friends with people who were otherwise very different. 

But Sam could tell that the other spirits were uncomfortable. She heard them whispering about how this was the first time two spirits had been made within the same decade. That there must be something wrong for the Forest to need two new spirits. 

Sam and Danny still hadn’t seen any of the monsters that supposedly came through. The other spirits had described them as fearsome beasts and monsters. Though after much questioning, Sam finally got one to admit that they had only ever seen a clawed hand or a fanged snout before the Forest had pulled from their energy to strengthen the border enough that the beasts were pushed back.

That didn’t sound like helping to defend the Veil. That sounded a lot more like they were all just batteries for this Forest.

And then, it got worse. Sam and Danny were over by the faerie circle when they saw Tucker approach. They both stiffened. 

What was he doing out here?

No. No! Nonononononono!

Sam tried to stop him but Tucker just walked right through her. His eyes were glassy and she couldn’t do anything as he stepped into the faerie circle and started screaming. 

She covered her ears and felt Danny wrap his arms around her. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Why was this happening? First Danny, then her, then Tucker. What did this stupid Forest want? Who else would it take?

Tucker’s body slumped to the ground.

As Tucker’s spirit formed, all the others gathered close. Worried whispers filled the air.

Everything's unraveling. The forest is dying. We’ll all be dead soon. Something must be done. Something must be done.

Sam and Danny approached Tucker, and they all held each other tightly. At least they were together again.

[vonev]

Operation: Ivory, 5.

CH 5, Returned.

MW2, Simon "Ghost" RileyxReader fanfiction

Omg nev returning to update her fanfic!!

Self-insert, AFAB, she/her pronouns.

Word count, 3695 (haha 69)

Chapter summary: You found yourself reminiscing the old times, albeit unwillingly. ____________________________________________________

“You know. if you wanted help, just ask for it.” 

You hear a rough, husky morning voice behind you, irritation laced in his voice as he leaned against the wall of the kitchen entryway, eyes sunk into the back of your head. 

To say that you were annoyed would not be enough to describe the mood you were in ever since the start of the morning. You resisted the urge to turn around and give him an earful, instead, you continued to operate the coffee machine to the best of your ability. Hands fumbling around with the industrial coffee machine, you had spent the past 10 minutes in the kitchen trying to figure out how to work the steam wand. 

If you were able to graduate from secondary school with a summa cum laude under your belt, you could use a simple, non-complicated coffee machine. 

Or, at least, that’s what you thought.

Because as you stood in front of the quirky machine, you glared at it. You had been craving a cup of joe that morning, though you were usually an avid tea drinker and were not one for coffee. The pressure got to you—and you concluded that a cup of piping-hot Arabica bean black coffee would soothe the tension in your mind and body. 

Now, you were always accustomed to the sleek, minimalistic coffee maker—not whatever monstrosity this was. 

Admittedly, it intimidated you when you first laid your eyes on it. 

Attempting to run the coffee machine served as a problem to be solved despite your intention of not wanting any more issues to deal with that day. You pressed a knuckle against the countertop, and you looked around the device, even going as far as to bend over the countertop so you were able to inspect the back of the machine—you wanted to make sure there weren’t any hidden mechanisms. 

As per your luck: you found nothing of the sort. 

Though, as you squinted your eyes, you noticed a small stub protruding from the side, your finger reached over to press it out of sheer curiosity.

A loud hiss instantly spilt from the machine.

You jumped at the sequences of hisses that sounded; you pressed the button you had found earlier and finally, the piercing noise stopped—you sighed in relief and defeat.

“That’s for frothing milk,” Ghost’s monotonous voice broke through, his tone demeaning with a special touch of sarcasm. Your eye twitched at his voice—you had been avoiding the entire task force for a few days now and still counting, and you weren’t planning on breaking the streak.

Moving into the task force’s safe house hadn’t been easy. You weren’t a stranger to foul mouths and dirty looks directed at you—but you hadn't been having the best time of your life dealing with a group of grown men acting like absolute children around you. They would more often than not slide in sly remarks regarding the way you handled things; even down to how you prefer your tea.

It had been a start too early in the morning for you—having had an abundance of paperwork you weren’t able to finish the day before piling atop your desk since you fell asleep rather quickly the previous night. You had gotten up earlier than usual to complete your work before proceeding with the next: the planning of the infiltration of Joseph Williams’ humble adobe. 

You had thought your job with the task force would be easy—but you were proven wrong, oh so wrong. 

The first day you were recruited, Laswell dumped a pile of folders filled to the brim with information on you after having assigned you to the safe house. 

“Just sort through these, and we can get started,” she said.

“It’d be easy work for you, sergeant,” she said.

You did not miss the glimmer of smug tugging the edge of her mouth as she watched the life drain out of you at the sight of the papers. It was worse knowing you had no choice but to obey, and for once in your life—you wished you were dead.

Groaning at the mention of the leftover paperwork still seated in your room, you turned to the kitchen for comfort; you needed a fix of your tea before you started losing your exhausted mind in front of the computer for the rest of the day.

Stirring your tea, you stood idle in the kitchen as your mind wandered further into the void—completely blanking out as you continued the smooth motion of circling the teaspoon in the cup. Your eyelids were heavy, they felt like weighted sandbags threatening to close shut, feeling the sleepiness seeped back into you like a sly fox. 

“Really? Sugar, in your tea?”

Your eyes snapped open; a soft gasp slipped out of you, being caught off-guard. 

You turned around and found the Scottish man seated at the kitchen bar, his eyes lidded as he watched your subtle movements. You could feel the tiredness oozing off of the man like liquid gold—yet as he stared at you, the familiar vicious intensity behind his gaze still remained.

The deadpanned expression you wore must’ve struck a nerve in his fragile ego, his eyes narrowed until he was blatantly glaring at you.

You brought the cup of tea you held to your lips, blowing the steam away and as you took a sip, you dragged it out as long as possible—watching the man in front of you grow irritated by the passing seconds. After a while, you were satisfied with your sip and pulled your cup away from your lips, the animosity in you only intensified.

“And what about it?” 

Ever since then, the unspoken hostility between you and Soap never ceased to dissipate from the face of the earth. 

It wasn’t as though your relationship with the rest of the team had been smooth-sailing, either. You remembered the nights you’d spend fixing the broken bike in the garage, and Gaz would come in—only to turn on his heels after spotting you and leave the vicinity. 

Inactions are an action.

You took the silent treatment Gaz had given you as a solid response. And as for Ghost—

—He had started being a constant in your life.

His eerie presence would always be around the corner wherever you were as if he had been a keen spectator of your life. At times, you would be caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. You still remembered when he crept up on you once, an apple in his hand whilst he chewed away the fruit with big bites and watched as you busied yourself with stashing away box after box of tools you used on the shelves in the storage room. 

“I know,” annoyance evident in your tone, you moved to open the refrigerator to your right, picking up the gallon of milk and pouring yourself a glass of the white liquid before putting it away. All while Ghost stood from afar and watched—as he always does.

You fixed yourself a glass of frothed milk, but not before wincing at the loud hiss that you were sure would never get used to. Maybe the idea of getting a cup of joe had been bad.

In one fluid motion, you raised the cup of already made americano and poured the frothed milk in. Fully knowing that it was not the proper way of making black coffee—but you were too far gone, and the thought of embarrassing yourself further in front of Ghost pushed you to make yourself a watered-down latte.

You could deal with the bland taste of your coffee, but Ghost’s judgemental stare? Not so much. You already had too much of that going around—you didn’t need another, especially one that seemed to constantly know your exact location every time.

Ghost hummed, seizing you up.

“If you know so much,” as he spoke, you could hear the condescending note in his voice; footsteps started tracking toward you. “Then you would know how to take Joseph down, wouldn’t ya?” Soon, the footsteps stopped.

“Ivory.”

Ivory.

It almost took you a minute too long to realise he had been speaking to you, your callsign dripped off of him, and it almost felt downright malicious. You knew he didn’t fancy your presence when he laid eyes on you during the interrogation, but you were sure as hell he would soon leave you to be consumed by danger—than to pull you out of it.

You hadn’t gotten the callsign on your own accord, no. Apparently, Price had it set for you before you had even questioned it. You weren’t mad, Ivory wasn’t half-bad of a callsign—though, you don’t think you would figure out the reasoning behind the choice of name soon.

“More than you do, that’s for sure.” you rolled your eyes and turned around to walk away from the tense atmosphere, but rather than the open view of the kitchen, you were met with a wall of muscles barricading your path. 

You peered up at the man; he still wore the mask that had the infamous skull etched on it, you noticed. He, too, was staring down at you; his eyes held reminisces of the sombreness that you knew him by. You were certain this man had never smiled in a day of his life; still, even if he did, you wouldn’t have known considering the mask he brought around everywhere.

Your eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

“Move.”

He, in fact, did not move. 

You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. “Let me guess,” you scoffed. “You don’t take orders from anyone?” 

Instead of giving you an answer, his arm reached above you; he took out a box of earl grey tea that sat in the open cabinet. Both your eyes are locked in a battle of unwavering gazes, and you weren’t about to back out anytime soon.

What felt like an eternity passed by, whilst in reality, it had only been 30 seconds—but with the way Ghost trapped you with his stare that bore through you, puncturing your skin, and keeping you grounded on your heels.

“Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing their throat had the both of you snap your head in their direction. “You guys done?” Gaz rubbed his eye, and he grumbled, sounding defeated. 

“Wasn’t doin’ anything.” Ghost huffed a coarse breath, irritated. He instinctively scooched away from the tight space, and you took that as a chance to silently slip away from underneath him—not forgetting to send him a final glare before ascending the stairs to your room.

You heard the men conversing, though, their voices muffled as you moved further and further away from them. 

“Men.” You rolled your eyes, one hand on the doorknob and another holding your warm cup of tea. Pushing the door open, you were greeted with a sore sight: your room, messy and unclean as papers atop papers decorated your pitifully tiny desk. You had even left a stack of folders on the ground in a feeble attempt of keeping your workspace manageable. 

The weather had been nice. Soothing, muted pebbles of raindrops slid down one after another in gentle streaks as the cold temperature of the weather flooded into your room. The subtle chill reminded you to wrap yourself in a comfortable pair of animal slippers that you stole.

From whom? No clue. 

But you would soon sell an organ than trade these adorable, cosy pair of goodies away. 

Once you settled yourself down on the familiar office chair, you started your productive morning shortly after—going through the magnitude of files with peak efficiency; occasionally taking small, needed breaks where you would sip your tea away. And soon enough, your cup of tea bottomed out, and it wasn’t long before you were practically finished with work.

You took a quick glance at the table block; you were ridden with a level of stress that could equate to the size of a mountain if you had to picture it. 

The pitter-patter of the rain only had intensified over the quiet, mundane hours whilst you slowly lost your sanity over a mumble-jumble of words—some coherent, and some blurred as the torturous hours passed by. You had been ignoring the drowsiness in the back of your head all this time, but you could feel it knocking at your brain and letting itself it.

“Just a little more.” You let out a heavy sigh and caressed your tight temple; your hand grabbing the remaining papers and getting back to work.

Though, as hard as you tried, you couldn’t fight off the fatigue that crept up your back. Gently, you lay your head on the busy desk, your eyes still scanning the piece of information on the paper you held up.It was the perfect weather, and the perfect temperature to cuddle up with yourself; to fall asleep to. And as soon as you let your eyelids drop—you were gone out like a light.

“Welcome home, soldier.”

The cypher voice had been undeniable—it belonged to the only comrade that stuck with you for as long as you could remember.

Your captain—a comrade, a companion, a friend you could call dear.

Tears collected at the brim of your eyes, the momentum of how fast your head flicked to the familiar voice could rival that of light. 

It had been an especially tough time for your task force—having been sent out to Mexico City for a recon mission; it was supposed to be an easy, get-in-get-out mission to retrieve some intel. But the surprise ambush by the Shadows had swept you all off your feet, your heads firmly planted to the ground with no way out.

You were trapped.

And the only way to escape their tight grasp? 

Kill.

You could still recall the blood on your hands that rainy night—out in the middle of nowhere, hidden away in the back of an alley feverishly crossing your fingers in hopes that you could lead your squadron to somewhere safe for a while. 

All of you had been on the edge, still shaken by the imagery of a few of you being picked off by the men from the Shadow Company.

You should’ve expected it—it had been quite suspicious of Shepherd to let your task force travel to another country’s ground only to gather simple intel. But he had been so convincing that your task force had been the right choice, despite how he could’ve opted to send a rookie team out instead.

Your task force had been one of the remarkable abilities—all of you specialised in various fields and balanced each other out. 

But to you? They were family.

They had your arms in theirs from the minute you stepped into their team despite being less experienced than all the other members. It had been a small team as well, consisting only of the 5 of you as you all fought through horrendous situations with even worse odds. You remember being given a callsign in the midst of an active field—tucked away behind a tall concrete slab. 

“Taint.” Niel coughed up a fit, spitting droplets of blood everywhere—a few had even gotten on your uniform as you cursed him out softly. “Taint sounds about right.” 

You cocked an eyebrow as you harshly tugged at the bandages wrapped around his calloused thigh, undressing the ruined fabric as you tossed it aside in a moment of a hurry, hands fishing out a small roll of dressing you kept in your medical pocket—you knew it would come in handy despite not being a trained medic.

“Yeah?” You ripped out a strip of the bandage with your teeth, quickly made work of the wound and poured a generous amount of gauze onto his cut. 

He had been stabbed in the thigh just last week, and today, you were dressing him up for another similar injury. 

Instead of a dagger, it had been a bullet. 

You winced. Your eyes would not leave the sight of his wounded leg—it was just as though you were watching a trainwreck, you could not take your eyes away from how the wound festered in his thigh. Quickly, you reached a hand behind, getting a feel for the wound opening.

There were none. 

Looking up at Niel, you took in his beaten state. He was a man that walked through hell and came back, just to pay it another visit that evening. And it showed on his hardened features, his face bruised and cuts dotted his freckled cheeks.

He was foolish—how he had naturally jumped in front of the enemy that had sneaked up behind with you a gun drawn.  

Now you were left to deal with his stupidity. You swore to curse him out once you were both back at the base later. 

“Wanna know why?” His voice was soft, a tone of attentiveness as he seized your hunched figure with his eyes. “You've tainted us.” That caught your attention. 

“Go on…” You said; your fingers caressing the side of his wound, feeling the rough scab that started to form.

“Haven't you noticed?” You heard the smile in his voice, your head still held down low. “You’ve tainted us with your pretty little hands.” 

He coughed again. “You’re contagious, Taint—in a good way, of course. And we wouldn’t have settled for anything less.”

He didn’t have the heart to admit part of the reasoning behind it was because of the nights he’d see you come back drenched in blood, and how you seemed to not be bothered by the amount of bloodshed you were dealt with. 

No, he chose to keep that to himself, forever he’d hold his peace.

And now, huddled away in a secluded shelter, Niel stood at the small entryway—his head ducked below the doorframe as he limped through. You immediately stood from your chair and practically ran to him, your arms catching his frail body as he fell onto you—if you hadn’t been trained physically, you would’ve been easily suffocated by the hunk of a man. 

Your gloved hand trailed to his face, and your eyes frantically scanned his pained features. 

Days since you last saw the man at the back of the alley. Days since he sacrificed himself to the wolves as he let you swiftly escape the ambush. 

And there he was, in your arms, once again hurt and beaten. 

You hadn’t been able to keep in touch with your other task force members—gone as quickly as they were ambushed. 

You could only pray that they were safe.

Niel hissed. His face contorted in agony, and you felt his hand sat on your shoulder. Pulling back from him, you audibly gasped at what you saw. His uniform had been basically ripped to shreds, and what appeared underneath them were countless cuts and bruises. You noticed his hand pressing against his thigh, in a moment, you forced his palm away from what he had been hiding from you.

He had been stabbed—and the wound? Deep. Deep enough to draw shaky, distressed breaths from the man beneath you, now seeming more and more feeble in your grasp. And you are desperately clinging onto him.

You dragged his limping body to the sofa that looked like it had seen better days, almost falling over at one point due to his sheer size and weight; you carefully laid him down on the loveseat and sprinted toward the bathroom—one that you barely wanted to touch due to how ruined it was. Your hands scrambled to pull open the medicine cabinets and fished out the first aid kit you miraculously scavenged when you first came to the wrecked shelter.

Out of the bathroom, your eyes found Niel now instead attempting to stand on his own two feet but was struggling way too much. 

You scoffed, your feet paced to him, gently placing a hand on his chest before pushing him back down onto the sofa. Niel let out a soft, “Oompf.”, as his bum hit the firm cushion. 

“Stop. Let me help.�� You kneeled on the ground beside the sofa, flicking the lid of the first aid kit open and grunted at what little resources were left in the kit. You had to make do with what you had. 

And as you gave him an apologetic glance, he got the memo and helped remove his trousers with your help. You recoiled at the sight of his bloody wound, so much blood—and it was ugly. The wound had seemed infected to your heart’s discontent, and knowing how he had been gone for days, god knows how long he had been injured.

You wasted no time. Feeling the tears poke and prod your gut whilst your jittery hands moved to patch his wound up. As you poured the gauze over his injury, you felt the tears drop—and once they slipped, they never stopped. You worked with tears streaming down your face, and the process took longer than you would’ve liked with your emotions that had gotten in the way. 

Your lips trembled, fingers gliding across his now bandaged wound. Niel grabbed a hold of your chin, his eyes now weak, his hand shaking as he looked at you with such care in the eye—as if you had been the one to get hurt. 

“Thank you, for what you do.” And with the lights going out behind his eyelids, he muttered. “Taint.”

Just as fast as the word slipped out, he was gone.

In just one moment, you had lost someone so dear to you. 

You lost it.

Never in your life had you wailed for another.

That night, it rained harder, as though the heavens above knew of your suffering and wept for your loss.

The next time you awoke, you found out that you had shed tears whilst you slept—and that a comfy, weighted blanket sat on your pair of drooping shoulders. As confused as you were, you appreciated the amount of added cosiness and comfort it gave you. God knows how much you needed it. And as you wrapped yourself into the thick blanket even further, you soon drifted off into sleep once more, letting it embrace you like a mother would a newborn. 

[cruelprincae]

@cursedbcrn sent from 🐝  *  ―  𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑲 𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑵 𝑴𝑬𝑴𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑬. 

💥 ― a memory you wish you’d forget.

His body hangs limp, supported by the chains that bind his hands which are connected to the ceiling through a metal plate. His legs are unable to support him anymore, only briefly brushing against the dirt ground and held standing by the unyielding force of the chains. It's been days since Balekin ordered a servant down in the Hollow Hall's dungeons, to bring him either fresh clothes or food, and Cardan can only assume that no one is coming any time soon. He figures as much, if the look of pure, raw fury that burnt into his eldest brother's face the last time he saw him was to be taken into any consideration ― which also happened to be the same day he was stripped bare of his shirt, lashes until his back was bleeding and sore and then chained in the dungeons, locked away from anyone and anything that could provide him with any sorts of aid.

Not that any of the humans in this estate would help him. They were glamoured to obey Balekin's every command, glamoured to happily do so, wearing a face that closely resembled that to a person sleep walking. They weren't conscious, they weren't present enough to comprehend Cardan's pleas even if he begged for it ― which he wouldn't. He is as stubborn as they come and if his brother decides that he wants to leave him to starve to death in those dehumanizing dungeons, then he will die with his chin held up high and with spite and hate written all over his sharp features.

Cardan wouldn't beg for help but that doesn't mean he would turn down a warm meal, a hot bath and a garafe of water right about now. Whilst pearls of sweat adorn his porcelain skin right beneath the golden circlet he wears under his black curls and run down his brow and cheek, his mouth feels dry, his tongue feels as if glued within his mouth and unable to even spit on the ground his brother must be walking on, on the ground above. He is both hot and cold; whereas he can see his breath ghosting out of his chapped lips, evidence enough of the winter outside, Cardan's body burns hot and the sweat, some new whilst some dry, feels icky across his torso and back. He figures he has a fever ― that's the only logical explanation as to the tricks his body and mind start to play on him.

He wonders if his friends care he's gone. He wonders if Jude noticed his absence. He wonders if her eyes search the crowd of the students in the palace for him.

The last thought is horrifying enough to jerk him awake. Black eyes, adored around the irises with a ring of gold, blink once, twice, pulling back to the reality just in time for the bolted door leading to the dungeons to open, revealing Balekin and the human creature he has associated with his pain, Margaret. With a curt jerk of his head, Margaret carries a tray filled to the brim with towels, water and other medicine that he's too out of touch with the present to notice and with shift moves, the glamoured human disappears behind him, where he's unable to track her movements.

He feels the scorching pain of something touching the lashing shaped injuries on his back and he knows that Margaret is tending to them. In contrast to the other times that Balekin has ordered her to beat him, these lashes were made severe due to the newly equipped iron ends in the whip used to punish him ― irons hurts the Folk, and he can't help but assume that Balekin had a particularly bright smile on his cruel face when he purchased that item. That, and the iron chains that currently bit into his wrists, the chains he could feel burning away on his skin. That, accompanied by the shift tapping with the clean towel on his back almost make Cardan wince, but he bites his tongue before any sound can come out, before his body can stiffen and jerk. He won't allow himself to appear small before Balekin's unblinking gaze. He won't allow himself to be weak.

Weakness is what got him in this place to begin with.

He assumes Margaret is finished tending to his wounds, for he can no longer feel the tapping of the towel on his back. For the first time since he has stepped into the dungeons, Balekin's black eyes leave those of Cardan to dart towards Margaret, whom he offers a curt nod. A weak frown plasters itself on the prince's face but before he can question it, a small gasp leaves his person as the chains give away and he finds himself kneeling before his eldest brother, tail and hands hanging limp by his body. Margaret joins his side soon after, but it is Balekin who speaks.

❛ Seven days and seven nights in the dungeons is a punishment fitting enough for the crime of you humiliating me and our House before the Court. ❜ Cardan remembers the day; He lost to Jude Duarte, a mortal General Madoc had taken under his wig after murdering her parents when she was little older than an infant. He had taught her the ways of the sword and the strategies of the war, which she had fully embraced, unlike himself. Cardan despises swordsplay; he hates taking lives. He is a firm believer that whatever a sword can do, a poisonous tongue can do better. A poisonous tongue can break a person far beyond that of a sword. ❛ You allowed yourself to be bested by a human. A nothing. What would father say if he was present to witness such a disgrace ? ❜

❛ I'm certain you're about to enlighten me, ❜ Cardan whispers, his voice hoarse with unuse.

❛ In his eyes, you're the disappointment he has entrusted me to fix. He expects me to make you a proper prince. If he were to witness your humiliation today, he would never favour me as the heir to the Blood Crown. He would think I'm a disappointment too. ❜ But of course, that's what it is all about. The Crown. Cardan can't help the barely there snort he makes, although he's certain that the way Balekin's eyes narrow upon his kneeling frame, he has definitely noticed. ❛ Your childish behaviour has embarassed both of us enough as it has. Yield, and I will allow you to return to your rooms. I will tend to your wounds, and I will offer you delicacies and water. Yield. ❜

But it's not Balekin's eyes he is staring at anymore. The black irises have given way to a pair of fierce, chestnut brown that stare down at him with such a fire that Cardan is surprised he hasn't burnt down to a grisp, turned into one of the bonfires the Lower Courts assemble during one of their monstrous revels. Long, brown strands rain down upon him like beach waves and, as if afraid that this wouldn't be enough to suffocate him, a hand ( with the tip of a ring finger missing ) reaches to grab around his throat and yank, until he's on his knees before her. The sword she holds reflects the moon light in her eyes as its tip is moved right underneath his chin. ❛ Yield, ❜ Jude hisses. Cardan can recognise the seething hate burning away in her voice. ❛ Surrender, or I'll tear you to shreds and I'll take down everything you love and hold dear with you. ❜

Better you experience the humiliation of being beaten by a creature who ought to be your inferior, Balekin's words ring in his eyes as he stares into Jude's eyes. And every time you think of how disgusting mortals are—with their pocked skin and their decaying teeth and their fragile, little minds—I want you to think of this moment, when you were lower than even that. And I want you to remember how you willingly submitted.

Oh my sweet nemesis, how I'm glad you've returned. ❛ I yield. ❜ Cardan breathes, closing his eyes. His voice is barely a whisper, drowning in everything that was Jude Duarte. ❛ By you, I am forever undone. ❜

The next time he opens his eyes, Jude is gone. In her place stands a rather taken aback Balekin, but the shock doesn't last long. In fact, Cardan's not sure he hasn't imagined it there. His face has turned unreadable, but he holds true to his promise and waves for Margaret to follow him. ❛ Take Prince Cardan back to his chambers. Bring him food and wine and anything else he desires. ❜

As Margarets helps him up and aids him upstairs, Cardan is still shaken by the ghost of those chestnut brown eyes. Eyes that he feels are still staring into his back as he carefully climbs the stairs to the upstair's parlor. Eyes he wishes to this day, that he can forget.

[j-graysonlibrary]

His Transgressions Built It: Chapter 22

Title: His Transgressions Built It

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 51K

Genres: psychological horror, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website and on Kobo

Synopsis: After living almost a decade estranged from his family because of his transition, Noah is called back to his hometown to take care of his young niece and nephew when their parents die suddenly. Because the children only know of their distant "aunt", Noah pretends to be his own husband in order to not explain himself or cause further issues. But, in doing so, he has to navigate the small town, filled to the brim with his childhood trauma, under the guise of a complete stranger.

Full chapter 22 under the cut

XXII:

The cold, sterile room gets less frightening every visit since Noah now understands he won’t be hauled off to an asylum with one wrong answer. He kicks his feet out as he waits for the doctor to enter the room and he looks at the same four posters that always keep him company.

A diagram about heartburn.

A poster for a chemo medication.

Signs of dementia.

And a cute animal motivational poster.

There are, of course, also the certificates and diplomas with his doctor’s name scrawled across them.

When the man walks in, Noah sits up straighter. He is tired, they both are, but that’s unavoidable. It’s quite early in the morning and the sun is probably just starting to rise outside.

Noah’s just grateful the hospital opens as early as it does. He would have a much harder time working visits into his schedule otherwise.

“Hello again, Noah,” the Doctor says with a weak smile. “How are you this morning?”

“Alright, so far.” He clears his throat and then asks, “You?”

“Wish I was back in bed,” his answer comes with a laugh. “Anyway, how are the meds treating you? Have you noticed any of the side effects we talked about? Anything you just don’t like?”

Once his doctor takes a seat across from him, on the wheeled stool, Noah recounts the past few weeks. He’s adjusted to the medicine and while it keeps him up some nights, he can say he’s mostly better.

There are no more ghosts.

No strange noises.

No fear about the world crumbling down around him.

People still stare at him but he guesses that’s the normal amount now. They certainly don’t follow him with their entire heads as he walks through the store and he doesn’t hear whispering behind his back.

“I think the dose is alright. I haven’t had any problems in a while.”

The doctor grins and slaps him on the shoulder. “Great! I can get you a refill of the same dosage and you can see me less frequently. I’m sure you’re happy to hear that.”

“No offense, but yeah.”

He and Noah share a laugh. It’s short lived and, for all intents and purposes, not real. Not really. Neither of them thinks it’s particularly funny but they proceed with the social script, as it necessitates.

Noah is getting better at responding in this way, when it’s unavoidable. It makes things easier, even if he doesn’t fully understand why.

As he leaves the office and turns into the lobby, his energy spikes.

It’s the excitement at getting to leave—at returning to his driver and friend.

Kiki waits in the lobby for him with a book cracked open on her lap and a pair of reading glasses resting on her nose. She notices him as soon as the door swings open and she promptly collects everything—shutting her book and setting her glasses back into their case. She retrieves her car keys and looks to Noah as they meet in the center of the room.

She and Shaun have been invaluable over the past few months. Kiki, especially, has practically moved into the house to help with the kids and having her around, at a near constant state, has kept Noah from spiraling.

It was hard at first but things have become routine. Occasionally, Shaun comes over but he doesn’t stay. He’s just company—proof that someone wants to see Noah. That someone wants to talk to him.

“All set?” Kiki asks as she flips her keys in her hand.

Noah nods and follows her out.

The sky is dark despite the sun having come up. It rained last night and it’s possible there’s more rain to come. Noah steps into a puddle as he walks but, even though he dips down into the earth for a split second, he doesn’t look down or panic. He simply continues to walk.

Kiki opens the door to the driver’s side but she doesn’t enter the car just yet. She looks at Noah from over the hood and she asks, “Ready to take the long way to work?”

It’s a loaded question and he gives it some thought.

He’s been by before but he’s stuck in the habit of not looking. Not really. Kiki’s mostly been the one driving anyway. He’s had the privilege of averting his eyes.

Seeing it now…it could set him back.

He’s aware.

So is she.

But he nods. “Yeah. I think so.”

They both step into the car and Kiki switches through the radio until a relaxing, easy-listening song appears. Then she changes gears and begins to drive. She can’t start a trip without the right song as the soundtrack. If she skips this step, she’ll have bad luck.

It’s something she and Noah can agree on. She understands him in this way and the little rituals she has, as benign as they may be, make Noah feel closer to her.

They’re some of the only people on the road and the clouds thin out, allowing a few rays of sunlight to penetrate through. It’s heavenly and if a booming voice came from above, Noah wouldn’t be surprised. He looks up as the trees and small shops pass by the windows. The sky doesn’t change. Nothing does.

Then, Kiki slows and, eventually, stops. She’s pulled off to the side of the road and the tires pick up gravel, crunching underneath them. It’s colder now, Noah feels, but he knows that’s just his anxiety sinking into his bones and striping him of warmth.

He turns his head and cranes it back down, level. Before he fully takes it in, he opens the car door and swings a leg out. Whatever is there, he needs to see without anything between him and the view. Kiki follows him out—he hears her but he doesn’t check over his shoulder.

In the big lot, on the side of the road, the remains of the church stand as evidence of reality. The basic foundation is there and many of the walls still stand but the wood is so neglected it could probably collapse under the duress of a strong wind. A bright but weathered slip of paper is pasted to the door.

It’s condemned.

The doors are open but only darkness is inside.

No one is there. Likely, no one has been there for years.

Noah traces the perimeter of the building with his eyes and then closes them. A sigh passes through his lips. He can remember God and it could speak to him again, if he allows it. But Noah cuts it off and decides to accept what his eyes tell him.

Now that he’s in the company of Kiki and his mind is as balanced as it has been all year, he’s alright. He slips, sometimes, and any overburdening can see him at square one but it’s his will that matters. Just because he can’t be cured doesn’t mean he can’t try to live normally.

Giving up is tempting.

But Kiki won’t let him.

Neither will the kids.

“Is it too much?” Kiki asks after a long pause. She’s come around the car to stand beside him.

“No,” Noah answers, honest. It’s a lot but it’s not going to break him.

He doesn’t see Father Robert wheel himself out from the sanctuary. He doesn’t hear Christopher call his name. “Finder” returns to “Find her,” in his memory. He’s sure it’s all in order, even if it stings.

Kiki rubs along his arm. “Alright. We should get going then.”

Noah nods, agreeing silently.

When they get back in the car, Kiki passes through the stations again. She picks a song that’s more upbeat this time and the remainder of the trip is spent with sugar pop sounds and punchy, motivational lyrics. Noah finds himself smiling as Kiki bobs her head along to the music.

Their destination comes into view.

It’s not crowded, never really is. Noah waits for the song to come to a close before he removes his seatbelt and exits the car. He knows it’s one of Kiki’s favorites so he wants her to enjoy it all the way through—even if the last few notes are cut off by the DJ.

She sighs and they walk to the front doors together. Shaun has already opened and he’s behind the admission counter with only one group of customers bowling in a lane far behind him. The pins crash. It sounds like a strike.

“Mornin’,” he greets them both with a tired mumble.

Noah offers his hand to Shaun. They share a quick bro hug and, when he lets go, he responds just the same, “Mornin’.”

After changing into his uniform, Noah takes Shaun’s place at the front counter while the cousins go to the bar, where they spend most of their shifts. The two spots are close enough to facilitate and maintain conversation, if things are slow, which they usually are.

Noah pulls out his phone, while Kiki and Shaun do maintenance work behind the bar, and he checks in with Ellie. She’s gotten a new manager partner, to replace him, but she complains about them quite a lot.

They’re not as good as Noah.

They’re not as laidback.

Not as easy to talk to.

Their conversations, even over text, don’t quite feel the same as they did, once upon a time, but Noah reaches out and responds regardless. He may lose her, given more time, but he’s not completely surrendering to the possibility.

As he’s texting, he hears the bell of the front door. It’s probably another small group or a very bored couple.

One of those predictions is half-true.

Two people stand before Noah and they have their arms looped. He can’t speak at first as he takes them in, every detail. He’s seen them. He knows them. And he knows them quite well, he’d say.

Although her face is now human, the body of Sauriel is before him. She is covered in a pale, lacey dress but her curves and stature are things he couldn’t forget, even after months of medication. Lucifel is no different.

When they talk, it’s even more apparent.

“We’d like to bowl—do we pay by the hour or…?” Lucifel trails off, and while their voice sounds the same, it’s less confident than Noah’s used to. Their fashion sense makes up for this as, just like in their domain, they wear all blacks with lots of glossy leather and straps. It’s not a fashion that’s popular in this town—they must stick out to everyone else too.

He blinks a few times, having to find his bearings. “Um, it can be by the hour. And then you can add on.” Noah’s mouth goes dry. He knows them but they don’t recognize him. Or they’re testing him, for some reason.

No, he can’t think like that.

It’s dangerous and he’s aware.

His attention snaps back to the present when Sauriel grins and nudges Lucifel. “Let’s do two hours. I wanna day drink.” There’s a sweeter tone to her voice, now that it’s coming from a mouth.

Noah rings them up, passes them some shoes, and watches as they settle into their lane. He hopes they don’t notice his staring. He hopes he doesn’t chase them away.

He’d like for them to come back. Maybe he can talk to them more.

If they don’t remember him, that’s okay. They could still become friends, while he’s on his meds. He allows it to fester, as a possibility.

In fact, he recounts Lucifel’s own words to him:

Good things can happen sometimes, too.

[little-pondhead]

The Phantom And The Chimera

[TW: Bugs. Lots of bugs.

"Example" = verbal speech

"Example" = mind speech

"Example" = ghost speech

Example = thoughts/ASL

I don't know which version of the YJ this is; I'm just throwing things into the void and hoping they stick.]

---

“CHIMERA! THE WEST SIDE NEEDS HELP!” Kid Flash screamed as he zoomed by, wielding the world’s largest butterfly net. Chimera, or Dani as she liked to be called, spat out a string of creative curses as the wind whipped her loose hair around, blinding her momentarily. 

“I’M A LITTLE BUSY!” She screamed back, voice raw. Fire breath wasn’t one of her natural ghost abilities; it always took a noticeable toll on her when she used it. She was a little worried that soon, she wouldn’t be able to use it all. The battle was dragging on far too long, and soon Dani knew her teammates would start to fall. Ancients, why did she let them come on this mission?! Dani didn’t have room to fight, to grow. This whole thing could have been over by now if she had space to properly throw hands. But Danny had drilled it into her head not to go all out when humans were around. Not only did they find the supernatural instinctively creepy, but the destruction a halfa could cause was astronomical. It simply wasn’t safe, and Dani wasn’t strong enough to create shields like her original could. So this is what she gets for learning how to breathe fire, Dani guessed. 

Sparks crackled at the back of her throat as Dani inhaled again. Despite not needing to breathe, oxygen was the key to creating fire, so she put her lungs to work regardless of the ash in the air. Something in her core shifted until she felt a little click in her jaw, and suddenly, a white flame was spilling past her lips. She pursed her lips to narrow the flame and aimed straight at the source of her frustration. The giant bullet ant clacking its mandibles at her, screamed and dissolved into a thick pile of fresh ash. 

Shit, I’m going to fucking kill Undergrowth. Dani thought, panting. Even if the Ancient had nothing to do with the enlarged and exotic insects currently besieging half of Ohio, she wanted to slap him anyways. It was all hands on deck for this disaster, and really, Dani just wanted it to be done and over with. If only her template was here, then maybe it’d be over faster. 

“STILL NEED HELP!” Wally zoomed by once more, his net filled to the brim with bright red butterflies that Dani instinctually knew were toxic as hell. She shivered, not bothering to reply to the teen since he was miles away by now. Instead, she cracked her neck, took one more breath, and promptly leaped hundreds of feet into the air, straight towards their group in the west. The sky was absolutely filled with flying bugs of all kinds. Butterflies, moths, hornets, bees, flies, and mosquitos were all buzzing around her in a frantic rage. It made Dani feel like she was stuck inside some sort of beehive. More than one thin feeler tried to grab her, but Dani let loose another mighty blast of fire, making herself a tunnel through the bugs so she could stick her landing. 

Why didn’t she fly, you may ask? Using her ghost abilities in her human form was limiting. Sue her. 

However, Dani still knew how to control her descent even without the aid of flight. She demonstrated this by twisting to the right and landing right on the head of another bullet ant with a resounding squish! Ant bits flew everywhere. Superboy, AKA Conner (her boyfriend), just glared at her as he wiped off goop from his face. 

“You couldn’t have done that sooner?” He asked, deadpan. “We’re a little overrun here.”

Dani just giggled silently and signed, I’m here now, darling. Isn’t that enough?

Conner shook his head and helped her step out of the ant carcass. “Well, it’s not like anyone is seriously hurt yet. Is your voice okay?”

Yeah, I’m just tapped out on fire breath for now. We’ll have to commit arson the old-fashioned way.

“You mean the most romantic way?” Conner nudged Dani’s shoulder, chuckling at the renewed light in her eyes. Dani was all about showing affection whenever she could, even in the middle of a battle. And if Conner was turning this into a sudden date, she wouldn’t complain. So without another thought, Dani and Conner leaped back into the fray, trying to make up for the lack of numbers through sheer determination and torches fashioned from an ant’s leg and Dani’s hoodie sleeve. They danced around each other like they’d been fighting together for years, not a couple of months, covering the other’s blind spots and becoming a whirlwind of destruction. Dani pulled on her core more, firing thin ectoblasts with a scary accuracy and severing the heads off of ants and beetles. Conner kept the space above them clear and frequently met insects head-on in the air as they swooped toward the earth.

Eventually, the pair stumbled across Miss Martian, who was on the verge of being overwhelmed, both mentally and physically. 

“Chimera!” She cried when she spotted them, breaking down into thick tears. Dani darted forward to punch a giant ladybug, sending the damn thing flying back. 

“It’s okay, M’gann!” Conner shouted, tackling a locust out of the way. “We’ll handle this!”

“They are all so angry.” M’gann sobbed, collapsing into Dani’s arms. “I just-”

“M’gann.” Dani focused hard on projecting her thoughts, and luckily, the telepath picked up on it and connected to her mind. “You’re going to be okay. Here, I got some extra earplugs. Take them for now.” She awkwardly used one hand to fish out the little yellow pack of disposable earplugs she always carried in her pocket and helped the martian put them in her ears. It didn’t help much with the mental noise, but it did help dampen the noise from the battle. Hopefully, it was enough for M’gann to regain control over herself. Dani heard a skittering noise from behind her, and without looking, she shot an ectoblast over her shoulder, demolishing whatever had tried to sneak up on them. 

M’gann sniffed but did her best to calm herself quickly. “I’m sorry, everything just got to me for a moment.”

“It’s fine, girl. That’s why you have teammates, right?” M’gann gave Dani a shaky smile. “Now, while Conner is busy being our knight in shining bug guts, can you pinpoint the source of their anger? There must be a hivemind behind this mess.”

“I’ll try. Give me a moment.” Dani nodded and stood up, returning to punching ugly insect faces while M’gann focused. 

“ ‘Knight in shining bug guts’? Really?” Conner gave her a nasty side-eye. He did, in fact, have bug guts smeared all over his body. 

Dani gave him a shark-like smile and returned to crunching hard exoskeletons under her fist. Aqualad joined them at some point, informing the group that Robin had been pulled out by Batman due to injuries, and was instead directing their backup toward the battle. 

Like it’s not already all over the news. Dani thought ruefully. She could hear the helicopters hovering just outside the bug zone, taking live videos for all the world to see.

After several moments, a ripple of something itched at the back of Dani’s brain, and she easily let M’gann into the surface of her mind to establish a larger mind link. “I’ve discovered the source of the hive.” The Martian informed the group. 

“Fucking finally!” Wally cheered through the link. His faint voice indicated how far away he was, and sure enough, moments later everyone shivered as he left the range of the mind link and his presence disappeared with a twang!

“Report, Miss Martian.” Even in the mind link, Batman’s voice was gruff and dominating.

M’gann grunted as she scrambled upright, trying to stay with the group. The other three focused on creating a ring around her so she could relay information properly. “These are Earth-born insects, pushed to rage and enlarged using means I am not familiar with. The hivemind traces back to a small grove of trees just north of here. The trees themselves are controlling all these bugs and seem to be fueling this blind rage.”

Someone’s link stuttered in shock. “Trees?” Kauldr’ahm voiced what everyone was thinking. “How can trees be behind all of this?”

“What kind of trees are they?” Conner added on. 

M’gann was quiet for a moment. “I am unable to attain that information. I’m too unfamiliar with Earth’s flora and fauna to figure out which one it is. The trees are semi-sentient, however. They just keep repeating a few words.”

“What are they?”

“Er…give me a moment. I’ll try to broadcast what they’re saying.”

A sick, slimy feeling over Dani as M’gann opened her senses even more. They didn’t connect to the trees directly since that might compromise the mind link and, by extension, the heroes themselves. But even with M’gann as a buffer, the absolute stench of rot rolling off the trees' minds was so horrific that Dani almost threw up. She was sure she would have if she was any closer to the grove and unprepared. She wanted to cut off the connection immediately, to burn the whole battlefield no matter what damage it did to her throat, and then scrub at her skin with boiling hot water until it was peeling. But Dani had more control than that. So she stayed quiet, silently gagging as the mind of the trees pressed against her own. It was like a creeping rot, trying to suck up all she had to offer. 

“Pando.” The trees whispered. “Rot. Help. Pain. Pando. Pain. Rot. Pando. Pando rots. The rot. No. Pando rots. No. Pando. Pain. Help. No. No. No. Help. Earth. Help. Undergrowth. Help. The rot. Help. No-”

Looks like Dani got to beat up Undergrowth after all.

M’gann suddenly flinched back from the mind of the trees as if burned. Physically, she was sweating from the effort and shaking worse than a leaf in a strong wind.

"Isn't Pando that giant super organism of aspens in Utah?" Conner asked, bewildered. "What is it doing all the way here in Ohio?"

A sudden new presence gently forced its way into the mind link, startling everyone before they could discuss anything more.

“Well, I'm not sure what super organism you're talking about, but I do know another one of those words.” Mused a very familiar voice. “Undergrowth is a huge nature freak of the highest order. I’m not surprised this is his doing.” 

Batman let his displeasure be known. “Phantom, if you know-”

“DANNY?!” Dani screeched into the mind link, not minding the flinches of those around her. 

There was a heavy pause, and then, “Holy shit, Dani? Is that you??”

“You bet your momma’s living fudge it’s me!”

“What the fuck. What are you doing here?? Where are you???”

“I’m with the west group right now. Why-” Danny suddenly left the mind link, making her blink. “Okay, damn. Guess he wanted to say hi in person.” That last part wasn’t meant for the others to hear, but of course, questions started pouring in like water through a sieve, so she disconnected too. 

It was easy to find Danny’s core. Even as a human, Dani would always be able to find what was hers. Danny was hers, and she was Danny’s. They were the same, yet completely different people. Stretching out her senses after so long felt nice. Her core was already singing by the time it had connected with Danny’s, which greedily sang back. She hummed, deep and low in her chest, standing proud and tall as Danny came in, speeding like a rocket. She jumped last minute to meet him mid-air in a crushing hug. 

“Moonshine!” Danny gushed, spinning her around with no regard for the bugs closing in on them. Ope, never mind. A glowing green dome appeared over the group, easily blocking the horde of insects from reaching them. 

“Danny!” She trilled. Since her vocal cords were still damaged from her fire breathing, ghost speech was the most convenient way for her to talk. And now that a fellow ghost was here, why should she limit herself to human languages? Her original caught on immediately and started cooing back at her, sounding like a breaking glacier. 

“Moonshine, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” Danny frantically tried checking her over with a concerned eye, but Dani just batted his hands away with a fierce blush. 

“I’m fine, Danny! I just lost my voice for a bit. And didn’t I tell you I joined Young Justice?”

Danny shook his head. “What?! No! You only told me you got a crush and that you would try to get closer to him. You were pretty determined about it.”

Dani shrugged, pointing at a very confused Conner. “Ah, oops. That determination led me to join the YJ, and now I’m dating said crush. His name is Conner; he’s a clone, like me.”

Conner suddenly found himself under the very fierce gaze of one powerful Phantom, who seemed to know his girlfriend very well. All he could do was swallow and wave awkwardly, hoping the bug guts (still) on his face didn’t change the hero’s opinion of him. Conner was a smart guy. He knew his girlfriend was a clone of someone powerful, just like he was. He didn’t know exactly who she was a clone of, and he never bothered to ask. They’d only been dating a few months, after all. But seeing her right next to Phantom, the mysterious new Leaguer who could easily defeat Superman, Conner’s own template, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. While Dani had pitch-black hair and stormy blue eyes and Phantom had snow-white hair and toxic green eyes, he could easily spot the resemblance between them. The same upturned nose, high cheekbones, and inhumanly large eyes all pointed toward Phantom being his girlfriend’s DNA donor. They even floated the same, with their knees slightly bent and arms ready to block at a moment’s notice. Now only if he could understand what they were saying. 

Danny sniffed and turned back towards his kid sister. “Isn’t he Supes’ kid?”

“Yeah.” 

“I approve. This will piss off big blue so much. The only thing you could have done better was date one of Bat’s kids.”

“Ewww, no!” Dani threw a sluggish punch at Danny’s arm. “Not only does that entire family reek of rotten ectoplasm, but their dad is a creepy stalker who has beef with a clown. He’s weird. I bet he’s even hounding Miss Martian right now about what’s going on.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” Danny looked down and gave M’gann a thumbs up. “Tell Batsy we’ll handle this! I flew over the horde earlier, and most heavy hitters are concentrated in an abandoned field up north. So there should be plenty of room for us to go ham ‘n cheese on a few magic trees.”

“Oh, thank the Ancients.” Dani sighed. “I wouldn’t have been able to handle this without you. Too many squishy humans are around, and I can’t make shields like you can.” 

“I’m sure you would have been fine, kiddo.” Danny chirped a few times and gave her a noogie, making Dani indignantly squawk. “Come on, do you want to go as that or change?”

“Mmmm.” Dani hummed, giving her teammates a quick appraising look. “I’ll change once we’re far enough away. You’ll have to carry me till then, I can’t fly very well like this.” 

Danny obliged, allowing the little gremlin to climb on his back as he slowly expanded the barrier around them, ready to take off immediately. “Have you been staying in your human form this whole time? You might be out of practice.”

“I might be.” Dani sighed and laid her head against Danny’s back. They shot into the air, breaking the barrier and zooming through the swarm of bugs so fast their wind trail made insects tumble from the sky. “They know me as Chimera here. Since I have a lot of Vlad’s features, I can pass myself off as one when they ask about some of my abilities. I also had Dora teach me to fire breathing and-Oh! I gotta show you how good I am at ecto-blasts now! I can get them so small they can pass through the long end of a straw. It’s really fun. And-” 

Danny smiled as his youngest sister rambled on about everything she wanted to show him. Despite their sparse virtual communication, it was easy to get lost in a conversation when they were together. Even in the middle of a battle! Just two ADHD halfas info dumping about their lives to each other before splitting and forgetting to text each other for six months. It was a system that worked for them, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

“-Oh, and by the way.” Dani flicked his forehead to make sure he was paying attention.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you even here? It didn’t sound like you knew Undergrowth was involved until Miss Martian linked us to the trees.”

Danny blinked, coming to a slow stop. “I never told you? I joined the Justice League last month.”

“Ancients, Danny.” Groaning, Dani slipped off her brother’s back and transformed mid-air, giving him a sour scowl. The grove of trees they needed to nuke was a few dozen feet below, twisted and grasping at the air with sharp branches. The stench of rot was so pungent both halfas just simply had to stop breathing. Undergrowth knew they were there; Dani just rolled her eyes, ignoring the whipping branches. “You’re such a hypocrite!” 

“Oops?”

---

[This is just a one-shot but if someone wants to add to where I left off, I would be most grateful. I'm just clearing out my drafts right now and don't have the energy to write an actual fight scene.]

Honestly, I think the funniest way to go about a dpxdc crossover with Danny and Dani is for Dani, during her wanderings around the world joins the Young Justice team. And then Danny is recruited to the Justice League. Neither of them have any clue the other has joined a superhero team until the Justice League and Young Justice happen to run into each other on a (very) chaotic mission, and as soon as Danny and Dani spot each other they start screaming something in an eldritch language in excitement at each other, hug, and then take down whatever Big Bad is threatening everyone in ten seconds flat. Then they refuse to explain how they know each other, because it’s funnier that way

[ateezreactionsandscenarios]

How do I tell you?

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

CW: Praise, oral (F receiving), fingering (F receiving).

Word Count: 5027

Prompts: 1) "I love you, I hope you know that."

                35) "Don't cover your face, I want to see you."

                48) "I can't help who I fall in love with."

Summary: When your best friend Yunho turns up at your door at night to take you to the fair the last thing you expect to happen is to end the night with him confessing.

Prompt List               MasterList         Buy me a Coffee

[6:17 pm] Yunho: Hey 😁

[6:18 pm] Yunho: Hey?

[6:18 pm] Yunho: Y/n

[6:18 pm] Yunho: Y/n!

[6:18 pm] Yunho: Y/N!!!!!

[6:19 pm] Yunho: HEY

[6:19 pm] Yunho: ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE

[6:18 pm] Y/n: Jeez Yunho what’s so important you’re spamming me?

[6:20 pm] Yunho: Open the door please 😊

You groan at your phone throwing it to the side as you leave the comfort of your blanket and couch trudging towards the door. Slowly opening the door you’re met with a beaming Yunho who looks just as excited as a child on Christmas morning. 

“Yunho what are you doing.” You half complain as he pushes his way into your house and running to your room. 

“Hey dumbass I’m talking to you!” You scream running after him wanting to know what the hell he’s playing at. Walking into your room you see him sifting through the clothes in your wardrobe. 

“YUNHO!” 

“Put this on.” He casually says ignoring your yelling and throwing you a hoodie and a pair of leggings. 

“Why Yunho?” Nothing about the situation was making any sense right now. 

“Just put them on.” 

“I’m not putting them on until you tell me what the hell is going on, why are you here, why are you throwing clothes at me and what the FUCK has you so excited?” Yunho sighs turning to face you. 

“I was going to keep it a surprise but since a little someone has a bee in her bonnet I guess I can’t keep it a secret.” At this point you’re waving your arms around with wide eyes encouraging him to continue talking. 

“Well you know the fair is in town.”

“Yeah and?”

“Well since it’s the last day it’s here I wanted to surprise you and take you with me.” His signature golden retriever smile adorned his face as he spoke the excitement clearly not dying off any time soon. You couldn’t be mad at Yunho for that, he knew you loved the fair whenever it was in town and he especially knew how bummed out you’d been over the fact you hadn’t had a chance to go to it this year so it was sweet of him to surprise you like this but now you felt bad about ruining it. 

“I’m sorry for ruining the surprise.” You pout. Yunho ruffled your hair, his smile never faltering. 

“It’s okay, come on get dressed.” And with that he was out of your room, door shut behind him for you to get changed.

You had no idea what you wanted to do first, your senses were filled to the brim with everything, the bright lights and vibrant colours, the smell of various foods, the loud music and laughter from kids, you just loved everything about the fair. 

“Where do you want to go first.” Yunho asked nudging you lightly. 

“I...I don’t know.” Your eyes scanned around the fair looking for your starting point. 

“You pick I can’t decide.” No more needed to be said, Yunho grabbed your hand and next thing you knew you were running through the crowd of people to get to your first attraction. 

The two of you went around a few of the rides and the fun house, Yunho paying for everything despite how much you protested and tried to fight him off at the ticket stall, he insisted it was his treat since he dragged you out of the house. 

“Where to next?” You ask almost vibrating with excitement having the best time. 

“Oh I’ve got a plan.” His usual bright smile turned mischievous and you felt your eyes widen. 

“Come, come.” He ushered, grabbing your hand again and leading you through the crowd.

You both stopped outside the ghost train and you felt your stomach drop, you weren’t good with scary things and he knew this all too well so why did he decide on this? 

“Yunho, I’m not sure about this.” You say wearily as he attempts to push you over to the ticket booth. 

“You’ll be fine, none of it is real and I’m here with you, come on.” One you were both seated in the small cart your heart started to pound and your palms started to sweat. 

“You’ll be fine.” Yunho said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder for a quick hug to comfort you. 

You couldn’t help but ball your hands into fists as the cart took off on the track, darkness all around you and the only light was coming from the scary props littered around you giving you no choice but to notice them. Skeletons, clowns, zombies, you name it and it was there. You stare straight ahead trying to keep your composure, you felt if you just tried to zone out you wouldn’t notice any of it and the ride will be over sooner, well that was until a burst of air made you jump out of your skin and if that wasn’t your finishing point the spider prop that fell from the celling surely was. Your body reacted before you could even think, screaming at the top of your lungs before rushing to hide your face in Yunho’s shoulder. You could feel the vibrations in his chest from laughter but what you weren’t able to see was the way he looked down at you, small blush on his cheeks and the biggest heart eyes imaginable. 

“It’s okay I’m here.” He chuckled wrapping an arm around your shoulder keeping you close to him. You kept your face buried in his shoulder for the rest of the ride, not willing to face what other horrors were lurking throughout the rest of the ride. 

“Jeong Yunho I fucking hate you.” You chuckled, a small tremor still present in your voice. 

“Nah you don’t it was fun.” 

“For you.” You argue lightly slapping his arm. 

“Okay, okay, how about this I’ll make it up to you.” You give him a questioning look raising your eyebrow at him, how was he going to make up for scaring the wits out of you and almost giving you a heart attack. 

“Come with me.” And once again he was leading you off somewhere by your hand.

You came to a stop at the arcade, kids running around with stuffed animals and bundles of tickets in hand. 

“Go on, go pick a machine and I’ll win you whatever you want.” You were a bit sceptical about this plan, everyone knew the games were fixed so you couldn’t win anything and just spend all your money trying over and over, but alas you went with it. Approaching the claw machine of your choice you looked through the selection of stuffed animals and you just fell in love with the pink strawberry cat. 

“Find one you like?” You nod in reply pointing to the little cat as Yunho looks at you fondly giggling a little, of course you went for the cat.

Slotting a coin into the machine the number 3 lit up next to the joycon indicating the 3 attempts he had to get you the plush. The first attempt was a fail, the claw lightly gripping the cat and bringing it halfway to the box before dropping it. Yunho kept his cool, he’d made progress and still had 2 attempts left, no sweat. The second attempt the claw grabbed the plush again and brought it closer and closer to the box, you stood to the side not getting too excited knowing how these turn out it’ll drop it just before it gets to the box. But it didn’t. With a cheer Yunho bent down to retrieve your strawberry cat before handing it over to you, watching how your face lit up as he did his best to try and not keel over with adoration. 

“Do you forgive me now?” You were momentarily awestruck by the fact he actually won. 

“I forgive you.” You beam shifting your attention between him and the small cat in your hands. 

“You better name it after me.” 

“Aww why the cat is too cute to be named after you.” You joke, laughter hitting you as he clutches his chest feigning pain. 

“Oh and here I thought you loved me.” He half jokes. 

“You know I do, but I’m still a little salty with you.” The both of you laugh as you head out of the arcade. 

You didn’t realise how late it got, looking at your phone 9:45 pm lighting up on your screen, you’d been having so much fun time seemed to just fly by. Noticing the time on your screen Yunho nudges you lightly to get your attention. 

“I’ll walk you home.” You didn’t want the night to end but knowing you had work in the morning you guessed it was best to go home.  

The walk back to your place was nice, the sound of the fair dying off as you walked further and further away from it and your hearing slowly adjusting to the quiet. The walk was a little quieter than usual between the two of you, mostly because Yunho was mentally fighting himself, over and over he had the debate of finally confessing his feelings for you. Tonight was the perfect time to do it, you’d had a great time and everything was going well but at the same time the last thing he wanted was to finally confess and you not feel the same way, ultimately making the rest of the night extremely awkward and possibly ruining the friendship you shared. Your house was in sight and he needed to make a decision soon, his heart racing and hands sweating at the mere thought of it, he was usually a very confident guy but when it came to you he was like a giggling teenage girl.

Getting to your front door you realised you didn’t really want to say goodbye to Yunho yet, you were having too much fun to call it a day yet. 

“Wanna come in for a coffee or something?” You ask fishing your keys out of your bag not noticing the wide eyed look he was giving you. 

“Umm, yeah sure.” He tried to hide his nerves as best he could thanking the stars for the little bit of extra time he was given to make his mind up.

Despite having been in your house hundreds, maybe even thousands of times this time around was different, to Yunho this could be the last time he’d ever set foot in your place if his confession didn’t go to plan. You set the plush down on the counter next to your bag as you whip up some coffee for the both of you all while Yunho stood the the side fiddling with his fingers nervously. He decided if he didn’t confess now he’ll never do it and he’ll just have to deal with the outcome, good or bad. 

“Hey.” You start, looking over to see an out of character Yunho. 

“What’s up you’ve been pretty quiet.” His eyes don’t know where to look, if he looked at you he might blurt something out and make a fool of himself but he didn’t want to look away from you and look rude. 

“Oh nothing, just been thinking.” 

“What’s got you thinking so hard you’re so quiet?” You, us, how much I love you, how I want to call you mine, how I’ve loved you so deeply for the last 4 years. That was all that ran through Yunho’s mind as he tried to think of an answer. 

“It’s nothing just...” You raise your eyebrows waiting for him to continue his thought. 

“Well I guess I’ve had feelings for this one girl for so long now and, I don’t know, I don’t want to fuck it up you know.” Your heart sank as you listened to him, he had feelings for someone and you really didn’t know how to feel about the new information. You’d had a crush on him for a while now and now to hear he likes someone broke your heart a little. 

“I know I can't help who I fall in love with, but I just wish it didn’t have to be this difficult, there’s so much at stake and I really don’t feel like ruining everything.” His eyes shifted to the floor nervously, his heart pounding harder in his chest, he’d already told you this much there was no going back now. 

“If you want my opinion, I think you should just tell her, if she feels the same then that’s amazing for you and I’ll be so happy for you, but if she doesn’t then it’s her loss and she never deserved you in the first place.” He felt butterflies in his stomach, you clearly didn’t know he was hinting at you and the fact you said you’d be happy for him made his heart swell and even more so when you said about not deserving him, it gave him that small boost of confidence t make his next move. 

“How should I go about doing it?”

“I don’t know, I think that’s mostly for you to decide, do what you feel is right.” He nods lightly at you, taking slow steps towards you still trying to keep a level head. Your mind too occupied on making the coffee you didn’t realise how close Yunho had got to you until his hand wrapped itself lightly around your forearm. Everything in the next few seconds happened so fast, one second you’re turning your head to look at his hand holding your arm then next you’re getting pulled into his chest as his lips meet yours. The fact that everything happened so quickly meant you didn’t get a chance to react, you simply stood there wide eyed. Yunho pulled away with a deep blush covering his face with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry...I...” You cut him off, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt, at least this time you were able to reciprocate the kiss just like you wanted to first time around. You could feel him smile into the kiss, his hands coming up to cup your face pulling you impossibly closer like you’d slip away from him. 

The kiss was only broken for the need to come back for air. Both of you looked at each other, breathless and with awestruck eyes, but mostly from Yunho. His mouth hung agape, trying to find the words to speak but nothing came, his mind was flooded with you and only you, the moment he’d played out in his head for years had just happened and now he was lost for words. 

“What now?” You ask, breaking the silence and in need of clarity. 

Words weren’t enough to express what was going through his head, no words in any language were strong enough to express how he felt towards you, so he just had to show you. Pulling you back in by your waist he spills all emotion and love into the way he kissed you, his lips moulding with yours so perfectly it’s like they were made for yours, but with the anxiety of you not feeling the same gone Yunho had a new found confidence. It didn’t take long for him to deepen this kiss, need and longing taking over. His tongue gently swiping at your bottom lip asking for entrance which you were more than happy to allow. There was no roughness in the way Yunho kissed you, he was gentle like you were made of glass but his overwhelming need for you still showed. 

The hunger and intensity in the kiss made you take a step back so you were pressed between Yunho and the counter top, and you weren’t complaining in the slightest. Yunho’s hands seemed to have a mind of their own, too lost in the moment he had no idea what he was doing, he just did what you said, doing what felt right. His hands slowly made their way under your hoodie, fingers lightly trailing over the skin of your waist until going a little higher. You tensed up a little once you noticed where his hands were and how dangerously high they’d gotten, you just couldn’t help your reaction. 

“Shit I’m sorry.” Yunho said pulling back in panic and taking his hands off you completely. 

“It’s okay.” You giggle, your thumb running over his cheek to comfort him. 

“I’m sorry I just got a little caught up in myself, if you want me to stop I’ll stop.” He was rambling at this point, even though you said everything was okay he still couldn’t stop the panic, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable. You shook your head in response to him. 

“No, it was just an automatic reaction but I don’t want you to stop.” You could feel your cheeks heat up, you were really saying this to someone who just moments ago was your best friend and now is...well you’re not sure, but you did know it was a lot to take in all at once. 

“We could...um...take this to the bedroom, it’ll be a lot  more comfortable that the kitchen counter.” You chuckle nervously, all the words spilling from your mouth still feeling a little strange to be aimed at Yunho. He lightly nods his head at you being in full agreeance. As you take a step forward to go to the bedroom you feel your feet leave the floor and let out a little yelp as Yunho lifts you into his arms. 

“What are you doing.” You giggle. 

“Well I can’t just let you walk there now can I?” You roll your eyes at him jokingly, allowing him to carry you over to the bedroom. 

Yunho continued to treat you like you were fragile, the way he set you down on the bed was like he was placing an expensive glass in a bed of bubble-wrap. Clambering on top of you he made sure to hover above you, putting none of his weight on you and leaning down to kiss you again. This time it was your hands that made their way under his shirt, fingers tracing over his abdomen like you were trying to memorise every small detail you touched. It didn’t take long for Yunho to get the hint, breaking the kiss for a moment to discard his shirt, tossing it to the other side of the room before bringing his own hands to the hem of your hoodie. 

“Can I?” 

“Mmhm.” You nod sitting up a little to help him take the item of clothing off you, tossing it to the side with his shirt before coming back to you and hooking his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. 

“And these?” You can’t help but smile at the way he asks you every step of the way. 

“You don’t need to ask, but yes you can.” You giggle shyly. 

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Yunho smiles as he tosses your leggings to the pile of clothes. Sitting back on his heels Yunho didn’t want to tear his eyes away from you, granted he’d seen you in a swimsuit plenty of times from the many beach days you’ve had over the years, but right now was very different, it wasn’t a swimsuit you were wearing but your underwear, garments that are kept for private eye. Everything about the way you looked right now was so intimate and butterflies could be felt in his stomach from how much you trust him to see you in such a way. 

“Are you okay?” You ask a little worried. He gives you a light nod with a sweet smile running his hands over your thighs. 

“You’re just so pretty.” You could feel your cheeks warm up again and you could only imagine how red you were, out of embarrassment you cover your face wishing the redness to die down. 

“No, no, don't cover your face, I want to see you.” He coos crawling back on top of you, gently pulling your hands from your face keeping them tightly in his own hand. 

He took another short moment to admire you before giving into his need again, missing the feeling of your lips against his. He didn’t break the kiss when removing the rest of his clothes, yes it was a bit clumsy in execution but he didn’t care, he didn’t want your lips away from his for another second, he had lost time to make up for. You were the one to break the kiss when you felt his cock lightly graze against your thigh. Taking a curious glance down you feel your breath hitch at the sight of him, seeing Yunho in this way had you flustered but nerves were setting in as you wondered if you’d be able to to take him. 

“Everything okay?” 

“So...big.” You pant looking back up to him wide eyed. Yunho tried to hide how much his ego grew at your comment but the slight smirk on his face gave him away. 

“I guess I’ll have to do a good job in prepping you then.” He chuckles before kissing his way down your body, stopping at the hem of your panties shooting you a look asking for permission which you happily grant with a nod. You realised how exposed you were to Yunho, closing your legs in embarrassment to stop his gaze. 

“It’s okay.” He says softly, lightly parting your legs. 

“You don’t need to be shy with me, I’ll look after you.” With your legs parted Yunho smiles down at your soaked core, as much as he’d love to sit and admire it he knew just how nervous you were so he did the one thing that would take your mind off it.

Easing you into it he licked a stripe along your core, collecting your arousal on the tip of his tongue and a soft hum coming from you that was telling him he was doing something right. Glancing up at you he could see your eyes were shut, head back on the pillow taking in his touch. He kept his eyes on you as he moved his tongue to give small kitten licks to your clit, watching how your breath hitched and your face scrunched up beautifully at the contact. 

Yunho took the leap, wrapping his lips around you to suck lightly at your clit making you quickly sit up to look at him a small moan leaving your lips as your eyes meet his. The sight of Yunho between your thighs and the way he switched between light sucks to little kitten licks had you losing all control and any embarrassment that you felt prior had melted away. A load moan escaped you as he inserted a finger into you, his long finger reach deeper into you than your own ever could. Yunho gave you a little while to get used to having only one finger before slinging in a second, eliciting another loud moan from you, spreading his digits apart helping to stretch you out a little. 

The pressure on your walls, the way Yunho curled his fingers to hit your sweet spot and how his tongue never let up for even a second had you hurtling towards your orgasm. Your fingers tugged at his hair, holding him just where you needed him. Yunho could feel the way your walls started to clench around his fingers as your high got closer and closer and with a small smirk on his face he sped up his movements until within a matter of seconds your orgasm hit you, walls clenching around his fingers and your legs shaking either side of his head as moans of his name fell from your mouth. It was a sound he knew he’d never get tired of hearing. 

Yunho helped you ride you your high before pulling away from you, looking down at your flushed post orgasm face that had his head reeling and made his cock ache even more for you. 

“You okay?” Yunho asked with a smile crawling back up to meet your face. 

“W...Wow.” You borderline squeak at him unable to think of anything else to say, your mind still coming down from it’s high. He tried to hold back the small laugh that he wanted desperately to let out over your reaction. 

“I think you’re prepped enough now...that’s if you still want to go on.” You nod your head a bit too quickly, your eagerness coming through. 

“Please.” Your green light was what he needed to finally be able to fully give in to you, capturing your lips again as he lined himself with your core. 

“If I hurt you or you’re uncomfortable tell me.” He whispered against your lips. 

“You won’t.” But that wasn’t enough for him, pulling away from your face he looks at you with an intense stare. 

“Y/n...I mean it I need you to promise me.” He couldn’t bare the thought of hurting you even the smallest bit. 

“I promise Yunho.” You giggle wrapping your hands around the back of his neck pulling him back to you.

The deep kiss was enough to distract you from the small sting of the stretch as he entered you, his size being more than what you’ve had before, but Yunho was patient, using small shallow thrusts to ease you into it until he was fully sheathed inside you. A quiet shaky moan left your lips as you started to adjust to him. 

“Take your time, take as long as you need.” Yunho reassured you kissing you through the whole process. Once you finally adjusted you rolled your hips against Yunho to get some friction going. 

“Yunho...please move.” You whimper under him. His thrusts started slow and sweet, mostly to make sure you stayed comfortable but the way he could feel every inch of you as he slowly thrust into you had his head going fuzzy. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he slowly started to pick his pace up, moans and cries filling the room as you lost yourself to the pleasure. Lifting your hip slightly and holding you in place with one hand Yunho was able to hit deeper into you, grazing your sweet spot deliciously with each thrust making your eyes roll back before your face started to contort in pleasure. The mere sight of you under him, basking in the pleasure he was giving you was enough to make him cum there and then but he held off for as long as he could, not wanting the moment to end. 

With his free hand Yunho lifted it from the bed and pulling one of your hands from him, lacing his fingers with yours as he held your hand next to your head, rubbing small circles on your knuckle with his thumb. You manage to open your eyes for a moment only to be met with Yunho looking at you like you were the only thing to exist, it made your heart flutter but also gave you a small feeling of embarrassment knowing he’d been looking at you like that the whole time. You couldn’t handle it, covering your face with one hand again to hide your embarrassment. 

“Hey,” Yunho whispered a little breathy. 

“What did I say earlier? Don’t cover that pretty face of yours.” He cooed using his other hand to hold yours in the same way making sure you won’t cover your face again. 

Yunho had set a rhythmic pace, not once neglecting your sweet spot since the moment he found it, the whole thing had your second orgasm approaching and if your walls fluttering weren’t enough of a tell tale sign then the way your moans got louder and his name continuously fell from your lips told him all he needed to know. 

“Yunho.” You cry out your grip on his hands tightening just like the knot in your stomach that was threatening to break at any moment. 

“It’s okay, cum for me.” He pants out trying to hold himself off for as long as he could waiting for you to reach your orgasm first. His words and a few extra thrusts was all you needed before your second orgasm of the night, your mouth hung open in a silent scream as your vision blurred over from the intensity. Yunho wished he was able to help you ride it out for longer but the way your walls clenched around him like a vice spurred his own orgasm on, forcing him to pull out quickly to pump his cum over your thigh painting your skin white while low groans of pleasure filled your ears. 

Yunho’s eyes fell shut as he dropped to the side of you panting heavily. You were still in the state of post orgasm bliss, your thighs still quivering from your high and as much as you’d love to get up to clean the cum from your leg you knew you wouldn’t be able to make it to the bathroom just yet without dropping to the floor from how shaky your legs are. 

“Y/n.” Yunho managed between pants, catching your attention as you tilt your head to the side to look at him. 

“I love you, I hope you know that.” You didn’t hold back the smile that spread on your face, those three words finally left his lips and they were all for you. Bringing a hand up to run your fingers through the strands of his hair you connected your forehead with his. 

“I love you too, I hope you know that.” You confess repeating his words back to him which made him giggle before kissing your nose lightly. 

“I promise I’ll clean you up...I just need a minute.” You erupt into a fit of giggles loving how he’s still thinking about you and your comfort despite the trouble he seems to be having getting his breath back. After all these years of silently loving each other you never thought this day would ever come but now it was here you wouldn’t change a thing about it. Yunho was your best friend and he always will be, just now you’re able to love each other more than just friends. Unconditionally. 

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