#that being said in response to ‘everything you went through; and still youre somehow the happiest person in this group’ god.

[pyrotechnicdarts]

i have yet to watch a single full episode of c3 but “the worst thing to ever happen to me has already happened” has a vice grip on my brain

[westside-rot]

Talk To Me Nice

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black reader

No warnings for this one. Hopefully there aren't too many errors cuz it's only lightly edited. I'm trying to squeeze in my last post of the year lol

This little idea is the result of a writing prompt and @megamindsecretlair keeping me honest about writing something every day. Figured I'd share the results with whoever else wants to check it out.

“That’s a bit harsh my love…”

After spending the last 20 minutes filling your home with negative energy you expected reciprocation.  Instead you were being derailed with a new form of gaslighting, the kind reserved for evolved men who appeared harmless on the surface but harbored a petty side few got to see. Though impressive, you knew Terry was only using kind words to paint himself the victim. It didn’t matter how many steps ahead you thought you were. The guilt still hit with the same bruising force.

Six months of newlywed bliss cruelly interrupted by disappointment you never wanted to feel so early into your marriage. Perhaps there was a better way to convey that hurt to your husband. Maybe sitting him down for a mature conversation would’ve spared you from the growing pressure around your temples and the rawness in your throat from all the yelling you’d been doing. You were convinced the window for apologies and grand romantic gestures had closed. He'd started it. You were damn sure going to finish it.

You pushed through your doubts and committed to your frustrations with arms folded tightly across your chest, the initial urge to roll your eyes shifting to a hard, resolute stare. “Well Terrence sometimes harsh is necessary.”

He scratched his beard and nodded as though you’d just agreed on what to have for dinner. Silence took over the room once again, intensifying the conflict between you. His eyes never broke contact.

“Are you done?” From anyone else the question would’ve triggered your inner toxic and possibly resulted in the police being called. But there was note of calmness in your husband’s voice that exonerated him from the accusation before it became your new truth. Terry wasn’t being dismissive. He was simply better at regulating his emotions.  His inability to stop wringing his hands together revealed the stress hidden within. For a second time you were forced to ignore your guilt for the sake of winning. Mirroring his casual demeanor, you continued to stand firm and prepared for whatever he intended to say next.

“I must’ve imagined sitting in premarital counseling for all those weeks. Or maybe I was the only one taking it seriously. That must be it 'cause at the first sign of a problem you’ve broken every promise we made to each other.” His words landed direct hits on your conscience. Everything holding you together began to cave under the weight of his response. Terry wasn’t wrong. Instinctively, you went into defense mode anyway.  

“That’s not fai—”

“Nah, you’re not about to interrupt me. I let you speak. You’ll show me the same respect. Understand?” The natural base in his voice instantly got your attention. Yes sir rang so clearly in your mind you weren’t entirely convinced you hadn’t said it out loud. You prayed Terry couldn’t somehow feel the lust pulsing alongside everything else flooding your system. One day soon under normal circumstances you were going to explore his newfound aggressive side. How, you weren’t entirely sure. With a new goal seared into your brain and soaked through panties clinging to your ass you managed to retain a sense of dignity as you obeyed your husband’s command. 

“You’re my wife. One day you’ll be the mother of our children. I refuse to let them hear us talking crazy to each other, so I’m gonna need you to find a better way to communicate your feelings. If I need to sign us back up for therapy I will but this shit ends tonight.”

All the fight drained from your body. Shame took its place. In its presence you were finally able to recall those important conversations leading up to your wedding, the dreams you shared, the legacy you wanted to create. If not for your anger you could have revisited them sooner and found a better use for them. Now you were facing an evening apart, perhaps more depending on how long Terry held on to a grudge.

All you could do was stare at the ground and wait for it to be over with. Hopefully you’d find a way to sleep knowing you had failed your first test as a wife. When your lip started to quiver you promptly bit down on it to keep your hurt feelings in check.  You hadn’t behaved in a way deserving of care but when Terry's long fingers reached out to palm the side of your face you sought out his warmth like a needy kitten.

“Now you’re breaking my heart.”

“I can’t help it. Did you have to be so mean?” Though you found your ability to speak you burrowed your pout lips further into his hand. The loudest person in the room didn’t deserve to cry. If you were lucky you'd disappear and rematerialize tomorrow with more sense.

“It got your attention. Besides, I thought harsh was necessary. Or does that only apply when you’re cursing me out?” He chuckled.  You weren’t persuaded by the playfulness in his voice to look up. Terry initiated the gesture with fingers affectionately placed beneath your chin. It wasn’t lost on you that he'd repositioned your face at the same proud angle you held while lecturing him as if two nights apart somehow equated to years of neglect. You wanted to look away but soon discovered his eyes remained steadfast and beautiful in the aftermath of the storm you’d caused. They connected with your soul in an instant providing a gentle assurance that you were safe with him.

 The words flowed through your upturned lips effortlessly. “I’m sorry baby. You didn’t deserve all those ugly things I said to you.” Before you could say more he captured your face in both hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re already forgiven my love.” Terry’s lips grazed yours as he spoke. The distance was torture. Finally, after what felt like an unbearably long time, he covered your mouth with his, reestablishing his dominance with a tenderness that sets your heart and mind at ease.  It was a proper reconciliation, but it also wasn’t enough. Not after the way you behaved tonight.

You treated the sincerity on his lips as your own personal buffet. When it became difficult to breathe you pulled away to regain control over the situation.  “I still have a lot to make up for.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed the curls back from your face. “We both do. Your approach needs some work, but you had a right to be upset with me.” You nodded and yet nothing in you wanted to celebrate the vindication. You were simply relieved to know you hadn’t caused any irrevocable damage by overreacting. Even more relieved to see him smiling again.  "I think my beautiful and extremely childish wife should get the honor of going first.”

The frown you attempted to hold cracked under the pressure of his wide grin. You hate being teased. You were also guilty on all counts and willing to take your punishment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“It’s very fair.” He mumbled between prolonged kisses down your neck.

You exhaled and curved your fingers over his broad shoulders. It was becoming harder to think or even breathe with him sucking everywhere his lips could reach. “Can we talk it out like grown-ups tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby. It's mandatory from now on.” When he spoke the guttural quality possessing his voice registered deep in the places he’s yet to touch. You felt painfully empty but knew you wouldn’t stay that way for long. At the rate his lips were moving you weren’t convinced you'd make it past the couch. You preferred the comfort of your king-sized bed the scene of your crime was a fitting place for getting down on your knees to make proper use of your mouth.

Terry surprised you when he broke the suction on your collarbone to reunite at eye level. There was a noticeable glint of mischief in his eyes before he bent down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed and braced a hand at the center of his back for support you really didn't need.

"You better not drop me trying to be cute!"

"I was planning on letting you off easy tonight. Now I'm thinking your apology needs to be as loud as all that shit you've been talking."

"Yes daddy. Remind me what all these big strong muscles are really for. Also, please send help!"

With a single act you reclaim the home you’ve built, your gasps and combined laughter echoing along the walls as he carried you upstairs.

[starcharmed]

— MEMOIRS OF THE PAST

summary: leaving a topic behind to go check up on sunday worked out well in your favor.

cw: romantic sunday pairing, past romantic dan heng pairing, after 2.7 quest but nothing mentioned, reader is an astral express member, caelus as trailblazer, fluff with an undertone of hurt/comfort | wc: 2k+ | my secret santa gift for @milksnake-tea <3 please read the note at the end

The Express seemed to hum during its “nighttime”. The record Caelus set earlier this morning looping idly, the tune stitched into your memory. Pom-Pom had stopped sweeping around ten minutes ago, Himeko retired to her cabin, Welt had long gone to his own as well for a much-needed rest.

Dan Heng insisted that he assisted March in “helping Caelus decorate his room”. Not that you would raise an eyebrow at him for doing so, those two were bound to have everything turned upside down and on the ceiling if left alone.

Which left only one Express member left, Sunday.

In your opinion, he could rival Dan Heng in measures of silence. At first you weren’t sure if he simply disliked you, but after being around him for more than a month you soon realized he was just like that.

It’s not as if he was cold, though.

The first week he was on the Express, he brought everyone delicacies that he presumed would match everyone’s taste.

He was correct in his judgement.

You weren’t even sure how he had figured out that you loved deep-fried flying sea anemone — a dish you tried on Xianzhou when in need of a small energizer after all that went down — nonetheless how many toppings you liked to have with it.

You remember messaging Caelus after receiving the gift, questioning if he had played any part in it. The only response you had received was a Wubbaboo emoji.

Very helpful.

That was besides the point, however. 

Unlocking your phone with a click, you opened your messenger. You sent Dan Heng a simple “u up?” before scrolling through your contacts, bored and in need of someone to bother. 

The second Dan Heng responded, you tapped on the notification.

You ; 10:45pm     u up?

Dan Heng ; 10:47 pm    You should be asleep.

Of course….

You ; 10:47pm    so should you

You hit him with the Pom-Pom “Pay Attention”. That’ll get him.

Dan Heng ; 10:48pm    …    Sleep if you can.     If not go see what Sunday is up to, he’s been silent for a long while.

Dan Heng ; 10:49pm    March said she let him in her room to look at photos.    Try looking there first.

You ; 10:49pm     march is letting him go through her photos alone??     did see get possessed by some random heliobi somehow??

Dan Heng ; 10:49pm    As far as I’m aware, no.     He’s…processing a lot of things right now.     Especially ones about his past.     I know how that feels.

You bit down of your tongue harshly to stop the bitter laugh surfacing from your throat. You knew that. How could you not practically know everything about him considering you two were the only people on the Express besides Welt, Himeko, and Pom-Pom for a long time.

Maybe, maybe you were still irritated that Dan Heng had kept his secret from you after you both had “dated” off and on for a time of years. Leaving you to a not so fun surprise during your time in the Xianzhou Luofu. Iron filled your mouth and you let your facial muscles relax. Aeons…you needed to get a grip. What was done was done.

Your phone’s ding pulled you out from the mucky mess of the past.  

Dan Heng ; 10:50pm    Please check up on him. 

Cringing, you hesitated before sending a Pom-Pom emoji. Huffing you placed your phone down beside yourself, rolling your head to the side to stare at your cabin’s door. Ah, what the hell. All of that didn’t matter right now. Sunday.

It didn’t take you that long to find him, in March’s cabin. Sitting cross-legged and shuffling through photos, door ajar just enough that you could peek in without disturbing him. You assumed March let him in, she’s bubbly yet still wary when need be. 

After what went down Sunday certainly was a “need be”. 

Rapping your knuckles against the door, you watched as a photo album slipped from his grasp before he caught it between his forefinger and thumb. The only sign of him being startled. Turning his head, Sunday’s posture relax imperceptibly. 

“Sorry”, Slipping inside the cabin, you caught the door before it shut completely, “I should’ve been more noticeable, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t startle me.” He was quick to retort, sparing you a second glance before focusing back on the picture.

“Right.” Easing over you crouched beside Sunday, noting the lack of his gloves and coat – two clothing items he almost never went without. Peering over his shoulder, the image of a smiling Robin with an excited March taking a selfie with her filled your vision. 

Oh. 

You hesitantly sat down, “I remember when that was taken, y’know? On the feldspar.” The addition after everything happened in Penacony died down on your tongue, you shouldn’t mention that. “March was so excited to finally snap a photo with her. She wouldn’t stop rambling about it all day.”

Sunday’s right wing twitched as he placed the photo back in its slot within the laced album, “That sounds like Miss March.”

A silence creeped back over the both of you, the Express’ humming becoming more prominent within your mind. The nagging feeling that you made an incorrect choice prodding along with the melody running on repeat inside your head. Perhaps you should have made the decision to leave him be. Maybe letting Dan Heng know that he was looking through photos would’ve been enough. 

His message became center stage in the circus of your mind. He’s processing a lot of things right now. That was understandable, and that was also the problem. You weren’t sure how to interact with Sunday without dragging him back in his murky mess of a past.

Like you did with yourself earlier.

But, then again, it’s not like you’ve done anything to make him feel outed, right? All you have to do is just leave and check back in with Dan Heng. And maybe you can catch a few hours of sleep. Just excuse yourself and head back to your cabin. 

“Well…” Standing up you raised your arms over your head, stretching until you could start to feel a slight burn, “If you don’t need anything I guess I can-”

“Wait!”

Time seemed to freeze as your eyes went wide, both of Sunday’s wings twitched violently, and the Express seemed to stop humming as if his shout momentarily stunned it. Lowering the hand he had extended in suddenness, Sunday cleared his throat. 

“I apologize. That was abrupt of me.” You swear you could see his eyes flickering between you and the wall, a moment of nervousness from Sunday caught for once in your eyes, “I was curious if you had any more stories about your travels to tell. I enjoy them.”

Feeling yourself becoming flustered, you started to ease back over to where he was sat. Perhaps your tendency to recall and talk about your journeys with the crew had gotten yourself a title as the second best storyteller within the crew.

You were never beating March for second. 

Point still stands. 

Although no one honestly asked you to retell stories unless no one else was present to do so. It might’ve been because you do so without honest flair or excess details that added a hint of humor to the mix. However, that could be your opinion of how you tell tales carrying over to your own thoughts. 

It was like he handed you the book for popcorn reading.

Sunday seemed to slide over, making room for him. A considerate action that wasn’t new. He often didn’t want to get in the way, even when he wasn’t. You can recall when he stood to the side when Pom-Pom was sweeping in a completely different area than him, as if he was trying to blend into the wall. 

Odd.

You reached for a photo in the album blindly, blinking thrice as you realized which one you had chosen. It was one from Xianzhou of all of your luck, one snapped in a hurry. It was on of you, Dan Heng, and Caelus in front of the Express. Caelus and you were mimicking Dan Heng’s newly-found horns (at the time) with your fingers before you all departed Xianzhou, March snapping the photo quickly before Dan Heng had started to stalk off the train.

That was a fun moment, despite all that had happened.

“That’s from the Xianzhou Luofu, correct?” Sunday questioned even though you could tell he already knew by the look within his eyes, “I’ve heard about what had happened there.”

You nodded. “It was a thing.”

A thing? Really?

“I never thought to ask what the story behind his form in these pictures was all about”, Sunday started, “Do you think you could tell me some about it?”

You take that previous statement back, he handed you a loaded gun.

The wince that slipped past your lips was sharp enough to sound like a whistle. With a click of your tongue, you started to put the photo back, “Well, I think you’d have to ask Dan Heng that yourself. He seems to have taken a liking to you so maybe you won’t get the sharp end of the sword.”

The statement was meant to be humorous, yet it came out as the complete opposite.

“It’s just something from his past. Everyone has one that nags them on this Express it seems, even someone as giddy as Caelus,” Closing the album, you reached for another one.

“Even you?”

“Unfortunately”, laughing you turned your face to look at him, “It’s not as deep as memory loss or being birthed from a literal nuke. Why? You surprised?”

“It’s hard to imagine you being chained down by memories and experiences of the past, you don’t let it seem to show.” You weren’t sure if you or Sunday had moved closer to one another.

In public you wanted to add, letting the two words melt on your tongue. 

“Yeah, well”, Scooting closer, your right knee bumped his left, “It’s different for everyone.”

“That it is.”

The humming of the Express seemed to become muted, as if you had submerged underneath the water.

Sunday was so pretty.

His hair framed over his wings perfectly, his eye color blending into his attire beautifully. Little things that he seemed to make stand out wonderfully.

“Do you and Dan Heng have quarrel?” Lifting his head, Sunday’s eyes locked onto your own, “I do not want to trouble you by mentioning the past if both of you have some together.”

“No, it’s just a…little thing.” 

Who started to lean in first?

“A little thing? You have a lot of those, hmm?” Sunday’s lips upturned slightly before they fell into their normal line, “Are you sure?” “You’re not getting in the way of anything, Sunny.” The nickname made his lips part, his honeyed breath being intook by your nostrils, “It’s fine, I swear.”

You could practically feel his hair against your face as he tried to close the distance, flinching back once his nose brushed against yours. Your fingers traced the outline of his jaw as he exhaled shakily, his lashes fluttering closed so delicately it was if a feather had fallen against the smooth water of his skin. 

Smooth lips met yours as soon as your own eyes closed.

You felt his hand sneak up to the nape of your neck, a gasp pushing past your lips at the skin-on-skin contact. Sunday must’ve felt as he did something incorrect, pulling back before you brought up your other hand, keeping him within the moment of the kiss.

The muffled humming started to become clearer as you pulled back to open your eyes. Sunday’s wings had come around to fit around his face, a pink creeping past the edges. 

And you let out a small laugh filled with nothing but joy.

Lowing his wings from his face, Sunday averted his gaze partially to the ground, “I suppose you should go back and try to sleep now.”

Although it was a statement, it carried more a questionable tone.

“Yeah”, you croaked out, nodding stiffly as you stood up. “You rest well if you can.” With a nod himself, Sunday started to study the pattern on another photo album. You practically speed-walked out of March’s cabin, heading to your own down the hall as your hand subconsciously raised to your lips.

Aeons were you glad you didn’t bring the past to the present with Dan Heng.

HI ILLU!! i hope you enjoy and this wasn't too ooc 😓😓 you've been such a huge inspiration and a major reason of why i'm so hooked on sunday as much as i am HAHAHA, i hope you have a very wonderful christmas and the rest of the year treats you right. thank you so much for being so wonderful and joyous to be around, i truly appreciate you 🫶🏽

[acourtofpenandpaper]

The Bat Boys react to your new set of lingerie (ACOTAR Imagine)

Tags: Acotar bat boys x Reader, spicy tension, 18+, imagine, reactions

Masterlist Masterlist Mobile

Rhysand:

"What did I do to deserve this wonderful sight in front of me?"

"I don't know, being the best High Lord that I ever had the pleasure to meet?" You ask cheekily, climbing onto his lap. Immediately, his hands meet the sides of your hips and squeeze your sensitive skin.

"That doesn't mean anything, given that you only met the High Lord of the Night Court", he pouts.

"It means something to me. Also, I am sure that no other High Lord is as good-looking like yourself", you say and caress his cheek with your thumb, resulting in a low rumble from his throat.

His eyes pierce through you as he takes in the delicate design of the night-blue bralette you are wearing.

Slowly, you reach down to his ear and whisper: "The panties have an opening...for fun activities. Want to try it out?"

In an instant, you feel him go hard under you but you have no time to assess his reaction. You squeak as he lifts you up and places you against the pillows of the large bed you share.

"You know my answer to this question", he says as he pulls his dress shirt over his head.

Cassian:

His eyes go wide as you enter your living room in the small apartment in Velaris and his smile goes even wider. Cassian sits upright and lets his gaze roam over your body.

Your body that was covered by as little fabric as possible. The no cup bra push up your tits fabulously. You had discovered this set while out shopping with Mor and you went back to the store to try it on alone.

So yeah, you enjoy Cassian obviously going feral about this new set because it cost you a half of week's work. But in the end, given his reaction, it was worth it.

"What do you say?" You croon and stop right in front of him.

Your question is entirely rhetorical because you are able to read his thoughts by just looking him in the eyes. They are painted by pure lust.

Without breaking eye contact with you, his hands find the zipper of his pants and he pulls them down, letting free his already hard cock.

"Down on your knees for me." He growls.

His wish is your command, you think as you lower your mouth on him.

Azriel:

"Don't look! It's a surprise!" You shout from the bathroom.

But who are you kidding, given that your boyfriend is a spymaster. His job is literally being not surprised by anthing. Ever.

Trying to clasp the bra, you smile to yourself. Calling Azriel your boyfriend still has a nice ring to it. And you are sure that you will never get tired of it.

"I am not looking, just laying down on the bed like you told me to. I swear." He calls from the other room.

Finally, you adjust the straps from the crimson bra with matching panties and smile to your mirror image. Somehow, you get nervous now and you don't really get why.

Azriel loved you, he has previously said so. No need to be nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You take a deep breath and emerge from the bathroom, just to be met with Azriel's worried gaze. But seeing you standing in the doorway, his eyes immediately soften.

"Oh", he murmurs.

Your hands twitch to the delicate fabric of your panties. "Do you not like it?"

His eyes light up and he quickly shakes his head. "No, it's just when I saw the set in the bag before..."

"So you saw it before! I should have known!" You exclaim and he laughs in response, catching your hand and pulling you onto his lap. His hands graze your hips.

"Yes, I caught a glimpse of it earlier. You should find better hiding spots in the closet."

You give him a stern look but smile at the same time. It is all in good fun. He always catches your surprises.

"But if you would let me finish my sentence...I would have said that I saw it but my imagination could never have predicted how utterly beautiful you look in this."

And just like that, all your doubts vanish as he catches your mouth with his.

Let me know if you have requests for other reactions for the bat boys (or other Acotar and BG3 characters!). This was fun:)

[writersblockedx]

Nothing but his Wife

Pairing - Emily Prentis x Fem!Reader Summary - When Y/n comes face to face with her college best friend, she begins to admit that maybe they weren't just best friends after all. Inspired by 'Good Luck, Babe' by Chappell Roan <3 Warnings - Reader coming out? Words - 1.1K A/n - I can't believe that this is my first time writing for Emily but I thought about this idea and had to write a little oneshot.

masterlist

There had always been something between the two of them. Something which, for years, had been left unsaid. Emily Prentiss had always just been Y/n's best friend...at least that was what she told everyone. The girl chose to keep their midnight kisses and care for one another (that went way past just friends) to herself. The two went separate ways after college, barely speaking a goodbye and they were both under the impression they would take such secrets to their grave.

And then the BAU just so happened to be investigating a case of which Y/n was reporting on.

Y/n had no idea what Emily had done after college, where life had taken her, but she shouldn't have been surprised by her success. Emily had always been focused, driven. She knew what she wanted and she made sure she got it. 

The girl wandered through the police station in need of a statement. And just as she was at the reception, Emily noticed her. "Excuse me," She muttered to her team which were in the middle of discussing victimology.

Y/n hadn't changed all that much. Even after all these years, she still smiled the same way and had that glint in her eye that got her any news scoop she wanted. But even before Emily chose to speak, she took note of the one thing which had changed: her shiny new wedding ring. "Y/n?" She called her name like it wasn't real. "What are you doing here?"

Y/n gazed up, "Emily." She stated, almost like she had become a weight on her shoulders. "I'm working, what are you doing here?"

"Working."

The girl glanced passed her to where the team of FBI agents were seated, "Of course, I heard the BAU were here." She looked back to Emily, and glanced her up and down, "You want to give me a statement?" She pushed.

Emily completely bypassed her request, "I see you and him finally tied the knot." There was a sour look written on her expression - one of which she hadn't bothered to hide. "How long did it take you to say yes? Hm?" Sure, Emily couldn't be so certain, but she had her doubts about Y/n and her college boyfriend. The main one being the fact that Y/n herself had always said she never felt truly in love with him. Yet, somehow, she had married him.

The girl's head tilted in response, "Is that your statement?"

Before Emily could stop herself, she reached a hand out, letting it brush against the soft skin of the girl she was facing, "Y/n, I know you, alright? If he's still saying them things-"

Y/n snatched her hand away, "Don't- Don't profile me, Em." She huffed through a stern glance. "You don't know the last ten years of my life so don't act like you do."

"Then tell me." She urged.

But Y/n had simply rolled her eyes, "You've got work to do, so have I." And with that, she turned her back on Emily.

In the rushed thoughts, the worry that this may be the last time they bumped into one another, Emily's voice spoke out to her, "Don't say I didn't tell you so."

Y/n stopped. She thought about the girl's words. She thought about turning and responding that she didn't know what she was talking about. But, instead, Y/n kept walking until her figure slipped away from view.

A day passed and the BAU were able to close the case and Y/n had her story. Everything should have gone back to normal. Y/n should have returned home to her husband and Emily should have gotten into the car with her co-workers back to the BAU. Instead, the two found themselves in the same city, in the same place, wondering why they had stayed.

Two vodka sodas down and Y/n couldn't help herself. The girl pulled out her phone, scrolling far down in her contacts till she found Emily's name. She sent something as simple as her location. And then she bought herself her third vodka soda and swore to herself, if Emily didn't show before she finished her drink, this would be her last one.

But, of course, 20 minutes later, the door to the bar swung open. Y/n didn't dare look. Not until the bar stool next to her became occupied. "A whisky and coke please, single." Emily ordered before she dared to even glance over at the girl.

"You came," Y/n observed.

Emily shrugged as the bartender returned with her drink, "I assumed you wanted me to." She took a sip of her drink before raising a brow at the girl.

She swallowed the nerves which had been growing in her throat since she laid eyes on the girl the day before, "I keep thinking about what you said, when you asked how long it had taken me to say yes to his proposal." When Y/n's husband got down on one knee, she refused at first. She wasn't certain. She never was with him. But Emily...well it was her very certainty about the girl that scared her. "How did you know?"

"Like I said, I know you." She repeated herself, "When we were in college and when he finally asked you out, you were the same. You were never sure you wanted to be with him. Even when you were in that relationship, you were debating all the time if you wanted to leave him." The girl went on to explain. "I didn't blame you, alright? If I'm being honest, he was dick, you knew that. So why marry him?"

It was the same question she had been asking herself from the very moment he proposed till the morning of her wedding day. "I suppose- It was easier than admitting to myself what I really wanted." Her pupils fluttered up to Emily, a flicker of the person she used to be coming through.

"And do you know what you want now?"

The answer was easy when Emily was right in front of her, "I didn't understand the feelings when we were in college but, I know that with him I- well, I don't feel anything." She confessed. "But seeing you now, seeing you after all these years, I've never felt so certain about someone."

Emily reached her hand out, letting it wrap around hers. "Whenever you decide to leave him, I'll be waiting." She promised. "I've always been waiting."

And in that moment, Y/n knew what she wanted: Emily.

[deadsetobsessions]

AU of Gotham! Tim Drake! Danny where he doesn’t know the universe he was reincarnated into.

“Robin!” Batman barked. Tim sighed, loudly. Batman twitched.

“What is it, B?”

“Drills. Again.”

Tim rolled his eyes but moved to obey. Speaking to B these days was like speaking to a rather boorish caveman. Simple grunts and single word sentences. It didn't use to be like this but B was loosing his grip on his humanity and it’s Tim’s job to bring it back.

It’s hilarious because he’s the least human of them all. It was odd, juggling his duties as Danny Gotham, his responsibilities as Tim, and his workload as Bruce’s shiny new Robin. Somehow he made it work.

Yeah, sometimes B’s hands are heavy when they’re training. Sometimes he forgets Danny’s name (or at least his human name) and calls for Jason instead. Sometimes, he smells more like booze and less like Bruce.

Danny could handle it. Even if his core quivers with grief. He wished he didn’t have to, but he could and will handle whatever he needs to for his Knight to regain himself. But fuck, that doesn’t mean taking his self destructive habits lying down. He might be Tim right now, but as far as Batman knew, Tim was here on the orders of

“B.”

“Hm.”

Oh, a neutral grunt! I see we’ve upgraded to grunts instead of arm flapping! Holy detective, Batman! Aren’t I glad I learned to speak cave man? Wow! Tim mocked, in his head.

“You’re heading to bed when I’m done with this set,” Tim said.

“This case isn’t done,” Batman growled. Ancients, it was like speaking to a large chihuahua-toddler hybrid. All the barking, all the growling, and all the petulance of a child makes the entirety of how his Knight acted on a good day these days.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Tim shot back, sore arms and legs and everything working through the set. Thank the ancients for his healing, or else Tim might actually be dying.

“You don’t give me orders, Robin.”

“No, but Gotham does.” He would know, considering Tim was Gotham.

The head full of greasy- ew, take a shower, B!- hair swiveled towards him.

“You have a direct line to Gotham?”

Tim settled into the final forms of the night. “Gotham sent me. I thought we went over this.”

A beat of silence.

Batman returned to clacking away at the computer. Tim finished his set in relative peace. He moved to the cool down stretches while Batman sulked in front of his computer like a five year old.

“I’m done.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Hm.”

“That means you’re done, too.”

“I’m not tired.”

Tim rolled his eyes so hard, he thinks he saw the light. Oh, wait, that’s just Bruce’s last brain cell dying.

“You’re heading to bed. Good luck finding actual crime tomorrow, if you stay up.”

Batman stilled, because he knows Gotham would back Tim up on the threat. Considering the time sensitivity of some of these cases, Gotham’s anger is not something he could risk.

Tim patted himself on the back for effectively playing the good cop and the bad cop on his own. Except ACAB for life because they’re vigilantes and the GCPD as a whole (with exceptions) sucks ass.

He watched as Batman- as Bruce- reluctantly powered down the Bat-Computer. As he stood up, Tim wrinkled his nose.

“Never mind. You take a shower first. I’ll text Alfred.”

“Not necessary.”

“Okay, then you can explain to Gotham why you’re traipsing through his city looking a starved rat and smelling like you took a joy ride in Killer Croc’s excrement. Oh, wait.” Tim snapped, just about done being patient today. Tim whipped out his phone, texting Alfred with one hand and pointing towards the staircase with the other.

“Shower above ground, you weird little mole rat. No cave water for you.”

Bruce makes a weird offended grunt.

“I literally don’t care if you have to walk up to your room to shower in your boxers, B. Most of Gotham’s people don’t have access to a shower, let alone a million dollar bathroom. Fucking use your actual bathroom instead of hosing off.”

And with that, Batman and Bruce Wayne moved to the tune of a pre-teen, who was also, unknowingly to him, the spirit of his City.

——

“Go home.”

Tim smiled sweetly. Bruce paled. The scary, Gotham loved child patted Bruce’s hand as he sat beside Bruce’s bed.

“Sleep, before I make you.”

Bruce slammed his eyelids shut, anything to not look at Tim’s malicious looking eyes, and allowed himself- nay, forced himself- to rest for the first time in weeks since Jason died.

As Bruce’s dumb self drifted off to dreamland, Tim muttered, “Wuss.”

He settled himself into the chair, napping lightly to make sure Bruce doesn’t sneak out to work when he’s gone.

Alfred snapped a quick picture.

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 4.9 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

twelve

tuesday, february 11th

being a good multitasker has always been one of those skills you prided yourself on. it was something you’d perfected over the years, something you needed in every facet of your life—being the responsible older sister, the student body president, the volunteer, the worker. juggling everything, keeping a hundred things on your mind, your to-do list, was second nature. it was just how you lived.

but all of that—every skill, every strategy, every ounce of focus—vanished the second rafe cameron kissed you 38 hours ago. you hadn’t been prepared for it, didn’t know it was possible for someone to completely scramble your mind, to set your body on fire with just the press of their lips. there are about 1,300 nerve endings per square inch of skin, and rafe had somehow activated every single one with that kiss. your brain chemistry had been rewritten, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t undo it.

it didn’t matter what you did, who you talked to, what you watched—you couldn’t escape him. his lips, his touch, haunted every thought, clung to every waking moment. he was embedded in your skin, in your mind, from the moment you woke up to the moment you closed your eyes. even then, your dreams had no mercy.

it only took a blink, and you were back in that room, rafe's arms around you, nipping your bottom lip, feeling his breathe mingle with yours, you could still feel how his chest felt whe you'd rested your hand on it, could still remember that little sound he'd made right before your mom burst into the room.

a little voice in the back of your head whispered the reason you were still thinking about it, why it was still playing on a loop in your head—you wanted more. you craved more, and it was consuming you, gnawing at the edges of every thought. more of rafe, more of that kiss, more of whatever this thing between you was.

"y/n," a sharp voice cut through your daydream, yanking you back to reality. startled, you blinked rapidly, your head jerking toward your english teacher. ivy, who had been carefully scribbling something in her notebook, glanced at you in confusion, noticing your delayed response to the question you hadn’t even heard.

"uh—yes?" you managed, trying to sound coherent despite the fog of your thoughts.

mrs. campbell raised a brow, her gaze expectant. "can you answer the question?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind.

you cleared your throat, scrambling to pull yourself together. the quiet shuffle of ivy’s book caught your attention, and you glanced over, spotting a small note tucked in the corner. 'meaning quote,' it said, the words a subtle lifeline as your mind scrambled to catch up. your gaze flickered to the blackboard behind mrs. campbell, and there it was—‘so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.’

the words from the great gatsby stood out like a beacon. for a heartbeat, everything inside you went still. the weight of the room—the eyes on you, including mrs. campbell’s—felt like it was pressing down on your chest. but then, slowly, you straightened in your seat, drawing on a sliver of confidence, the reminder that you’d read this book twice now.

“i think…” you started, your voice shaky at first but growing steadier with each word. "he's saying that people are always fighting against things they can't control. like… no matter how hard we try to move forward, the past always pulls us back. our memories, our regrets, maybe even guilt—those are the currents he’s talking about."

there was a long pause as mrs. campbell studied you, her eyes sharp, weighing your answer. finally, she nodded, turning back to the class. "exactly. so what we can deduce from that is—" her voice trailed off as you tuned her out once again, giving a quiet nod of thanks to ivy.

"what's going on?" ivy whispered, her concern evident in the way she leaned in. it wasn’t like you to zone out like that, especially in class. "what did bootleg messi pull now?" she added, her voice light but teasing, and you smiled, turning back to the board but not before giving her a gentle shove. you heard her quiet giggle fill the space between you.

of course, you hadn’t told your friends about the kiss. that would’ve been like asking hazel to strangle you in front of everyone—which, knowing hazel, she’d probably do without hesitation.

you’d made it clear to them, especially to hazel, that you wouldn’t let him in, that you’d protect yourself from whatever this thing was. and yet, here you were—letting him all the way in. the situation would’ve been different if you had any plans to cut him off, but you didn’t. you wanted more. a lot more.

when class ended and you found yourself standing by devon's locker, waiting for her to dig around for her chemistry book, your mind drifted again. was this normal? did everyone feel this kind of almost desperate withdrawal after something as simple as a kiss? it felt ridiculous to admit, but you were completely disheveled by a boy. by a kiss. a damn good kiss.

"ready?" hazel's voice pulled you from your thoughts, her tone a little sharper now that devon had finally shoved her book into her backpack and nodded in agreement. without thinking, you looped your arm through hazel's as the four of you started walking out of school. "did you ever hear back from that angry customer?" you asked absently, your mind still somewhere else.

hazel hummed in acknowledgment, then chuckled, "yeah, she reached out to customer service, and guess what they told her?"

"the exact same thing you told her?" you guessed, grinning, and hazel gave a quick nod, her lips curling into a smirk. "yup," she said, popping the p in ‘yup’ like it was the final nail in the coffin.

your small smile faltered when you stepped outside the building and saw what was unfolding in front of you. "what is going on?" ivy's voice was filled with confusion, and you couldn’t help but feel the same.

rafe and topper were in the middle of what looked like a heated verbal argument. you and everyone else could see the anger between them, but the exact context was lost in the shuffle of their raised voices. their friends had formed a circle around them, trying desperately to intervene, but it was obvious nothing was getting through. rafe kept attempting to walk away, but topper blocked him each time.

on rafe's third attempt, he finally shoved topper, who stumbled but quickly regained his balance. before he could do anything else, kiara stepped in, her face furious as she shoved topper back, shouting ‘enough’ and ‘stop’ in his face with an intensity that made the entire scene feel dangerously close to something more.

rafe took the opportunity to break free, even though his friends were trying to stop him. it was clear where he was headed, though—straight toward you.

hazel's voice was low and confused. "is he coming over here?" she muttered, and you could see rafe’s friends trailing behind him, likely to make sure he was okay.

you started walking toward rafe to meet him halfway, your voice sharp with tension. "what are you doing?" you asked before he even reached you. there was no way he was about to start something in front of half the school.

"come with me," rafe said, his tone brokering no argument, the command obvious in his words. "i'm driving you home."

"rafe—" you tried to protest, but before you could finish, john b’s hand landed on rafe's shoulder, his voice urging him. "rafe, c'mon—"

rafe spun around to face his friend, irritation clear in his expression. "i’m not in the fucking mood to deal with him, alright?" he snapped, not bothering to wait for a reply before grabbing your wrist and tugging you along with him.

"rafe, slow down—" you tried to keep up, your steps faltering as you struggled to stay with him. "rafe, i came on my bike, i can’t just—"

"i'll pick you up in the morning," he interrupted, his voice as firm as steel, cutting off any further protests. before you could argue, he flung open the passenger door, blocking you in the small space between the car and the door. it was clear what he wanted: you had two choices—get in or physically fight this six-foot-tall athlete who wasn’t giving an inch.

his jaw was clenched tight, his posture rigid, and you felt an overwhelming urge to kiss the anger right off his face. you could feel the intensity building inside you, the heat of the moment becoming unbearable. it was that urge—raw and undeniable—that finally made you climb into the car. a few more seconds of standing there, and you knew you would’ve done it, would’ve kissed him and made everything even more complicated than it already was.

he doesn’t say a word as the car hums to life, just starts driving with a tense grip on the wheel, his jaw so tight it looks like it might snap. you're left staring at him in disbelief, the weight of what just happened sinking in. was that real?

you can tell something’s wrong when he moves his hand from the gear stick to the steering wheel, and you notice his hand trembling—just slightly, but enough to make your heart skip. “rafe,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper as your hand moves toward his. the second your fingers brush his skin, his whole body tightens, and he pulls his hand away like you’ve burned him. “not when i’m driving,” he snaps, the coldness in his tone like a slap to your chest.

you watch him, sadness pulling at your chest, and slump back into the seat, the air between you two thick with tension. only then do you feel the sharp throb in your feet, the pain from the new shoes you’d barely managed to keep on all day. you shift your bag aside and carefully pop your heel out of your patent black ballet flats. they were new, from steve madden, whose shoes were designed with a particular vendetta against women’s feet. blisters were basically guaranteed.

you wince at the sight of the angry bubble forming on the back of your heel, and despite the sharp sting, you already find yourself daydreaming about soaking in a hot bath tonight, the relief already calling your name.

"what?" rafe’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you look up at him, unsure what he’s seeing. "what? nothing." you frown, sitting up a little straighter.

his eyes flick back to the road, but his tone softens just a little. "you're in pain. you just winced. what's wrong?"

you shake your head, dismissing his concern as you try to shove the discomfort aside. "i have new shoes on. just a blister." you try to brush it off, but when the car stops at a red light, you notice rafe’s eyes flicking down to your feet.

"take them off," he says, almost like an order, but you hesitate. how were you supposed to relax your blistered feet in his car without feeling weird about it? and how was he not disgusted?

"no, that’s not proper. it's okay," you tell him, your voice a little shaky. he rolls his eyes, exasperated.

"you're gonna make me do it?" he mutters, but before you can answer, he’s already leaning across the seat, his hand reaching for your shoes, completely ignoring your protest.

"rafe!" you gasp, startled as you kick your feet, trying to push him away, but he grips your shoe like it’s his personal mission to take them off. the light turns green, and you panic, "rafe, stop, the light turned green!" you try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he’s relentless, fighting you for your second shoe even as the cars behind honk impatiently.

finally, he lets go, and with both of your shoes in hand, he tosses them casually into the backseat as if nothing had happened, his eyes back on the road like the whole scene had been completely normal.

"you know you’re insane?" you mutter after a beat, disbelief creeping into your voice. rafe’s lips press together, his eyes still focused ahead.

"i have very little patience today," he mutters under his breath as he pulls into your street. the reminder of his earlier anger stirs a knot in your stomach, and you hesitate, wondering if you should ask what happened. but you don’t—prodding him further would only make things worse.

he parks his car and you reach behind to find your shoes he carelessly threw to the back but before you can, he's opening the backdoor and grabbing them. you blink when he slams the door shut and leaves you with no shoes.

you're just about to open the door, ready to ask him for your shoes, when the door swings open and rafe scoops you up into his arms. "rafe, what are you doing?" you ask, your hands instinctively wrapping around his neck for support.

"i'm skydiving, obviously." he says flatly and with one swift kick, he shuts the door behind him, then presses the button on his car keys to lock it.

you can't help but grimace at his sarcasm. "you're just being so lovely today," you mutter, offering him a fake smile. he smirks in response, clearly enjoying this. before you know it, you're standing in front of his door, rummaging through your bag for the keys.

"i am, aren't i? and you really don't deserve it since you've been avoiding me," he says, a small edge to his voice, his tone playful but with something else lingering under the surface.

your cheeks flush, the heat creeping up as you finally manage to unlock the door. "i… h—"

"whenever you do that, that subtle hesitation," he interrupts, his voice suddenly serious, "you're about to lie. have you ever noticed that?"

your eyes widen as he gently sets you down on your feet, his words making you feel caught off guard.

"i mean, i'm saying it to help you," he continues, "when you become president, you can't be caught lying this easily."

you let out a soft sigh, the warmth of embarrassment spreading across your face. you cover your face for a moment, feeling exposed. "i'm sorry," you murmur, the sincerity in your voice not lost on him.

he shakes his head, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, grounding you. "i looked it up. i think it's a defense mechanism."

your jaw drops just a little, surprised that rafe, of all people, has done research for you. research was your thing.

"you don't like confrontation," he continues, his voice calm, "and you don't like dealing with your emotions. you like things you can control and predict and feelings are probably the most unpredictable and uncontrollable things we experience. i think you're willing to do a lot to avoid those two things, including lying."

it’s a strange feeling, to be psychoanalyzed this way, the way you so often do to others. you’re not used to being the one on the receiving end of this kind of observation.

his hands shift from your shoulders to cradle your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks in a tender, almost reverent way. "i can feel that you're afraid."

"is it that obvious?" you whisper, your heart fluttering as your nose brushes against his, the proximity making your breath hitch.

he nods slowly, his lips just inches from yours. "just can't figure out why," he murmurs, his voice low and soft. then, with a gentle teasing bite, he nips at your bottom lip.

you want to tell him why, to explain the gnawing feeling in your gut that something is bound to go wrong, that eventually, he’s going to break your heart. but you don’t say that. because, well…

you're a liar.

"i've never done this," you begin, your words rushing out in a nervous ramble, "i… i avoided you because i didn’t even know how to look at you anymore after sunday."

your hands fidget nervously, eyes darting around as you feel the panic rise. "i watched…" you hesitate, unsure how to say it. "..adult content yesterday," you whisper it like it's a secret, "and it was so scary. i almost broke my laptop from how hard i tossed it off my bed." your voice is barely above a murmur, and rafe’s eyes widen in amusement.

he starts laughing, shaking his head as you quickly look around, despite knowing no one will be home for another hour.

"you watched po—"

"don't say it!" you hiss, your cheeks burning at the thought.

he’s still laughing, amusement dancing in his eyes as he pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "c'mon," he says, his tone light but insistent as he takes your hand. "let’s go."

you let him lead you up the stairs, your nerves gnawing at you. you're unsure what’s next, what’s going to happen between the two of you. but that's what being with rafe always feels like—you never see anything coming with him.

you both settle on your bed, the quiet hum of the room filling the space between you. you sit cross-legged while he turns toward you, his gaze steady and soft, as though he’s trying to convey everything without saying a word. then, his voice breaks the silence, low and calm, like a soothing balm.

he looks at you and the distance you've put between the two of you. “firstly, you have nothing to be afraid of,” he says, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. with an easy pull, he brings you closer until your leg is draped over his, the warmth of his touch grounding you. “this doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. i just want you to feel good—feel okay. we’ll go at your pace, yeah? wherever you lead me.”

his words settle over you like a promise, steady and unyielding. you nod hesitantly, fingers nervously fidgeting in your lap. “i think… we can take it slow, right?” your voice is quiet, unsure, as you glance down.

he tilts his head forward, his forehead brushing against yours, forcing you to meet his eyes. “course,” he murmurs, the weight of his sincerity making you exhale softly.

with tentative fingers, you reach up, your thumb grazing over his lips in an almost reverent motion. “i don’t know anything,” you admit, the words slipping out like a secret.

his smile softens, a small, reassuring thing that makes your chest tighten. “m’ here,” he mutters, his hand resting gently on your waist. “i’ll help you, just like you help me.”

and what was the harm in this? something quiet and undefined, not quite a relationship, but not nothing either. it felt safe—like an agreement between the two of you, unspoken but understood.

“like… comparative advantage,” you murmur, your voice still soft but gaining a touch of animation.

he raises a brow, clearly unsure where you’re going with this.

“comparative advantage,” you repeat, lips brushing against his. “it’s when countries—or even people—specialize in what they’re relatively best at. it’s about focusing on what they can produce most efficiently, with fewer resources or less effort, instead of trying to do everything.”

he blinks, his head tilting slightly as he considers your explanation. “you know what i find fascinating?” he asks, his voice carrying a quiet, teasing warmth.

you hum, encouraging him to continue, a small smile already playing on your lips.

“the more you ramble about shit i don’t understand, the more attractive i find you,” he says, his tone light but earnest.

a laugh bubbles out of you, your heart racing as he dips his head, pressing playful kisses along your neck. “tell me more!” he demands, his hands sliding around your waist and tugging you closer.

you giggle, your arms looping around his neck as your mind scrambles to find something—anything—to say. “uhhh… oh! i was just reading about nuclear fusion!”

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his brows raising in amused curiosity.

“it’s when two lighter atomic nuclei combine to form a heavier one,” you explain, your voice picking up speed. “and it releases a ton of energy in the process. that reaction—it’s the same one that powers the sun and stars. isn’t that wild?”

“so wild,” he hums thoughtfully, leaning in to press a soft kiss against your lips. the gentle contact almost derails your train of thought, but you push forward, determined to finish your point. “and what’s even more fascinating is that the ingredients—deuterium, which comes from seawater, and tritium, which can be bred from lithium—are virtually inexhaustible. it’s sustainable energy, rafe. the potential is endless.”

he hums again, his lips brushing along your jawline, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “that’s very interesting. tell me something else,” he urges, pulling you fully into his lap, his hands steadying you like you belonged there.

you can’t stop smiling now, your head tipping back as his lips find the curve of your neck. “mmm… did you know that some theorists believe modern politics has moved beyond traditional ideologies like communism or liberalism?”

“had no idea,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled but attentive, his focus clearly divided between your words and the way you react to his touch.

“they think political life is more about pragmatic management and technocratic governance now,” you continue, your voice gaining a touch of excitement. “and like, look at italy or greece. during their financial crises, they elected experts—economists, and engineers—as politicians. moving toward different kinds of ideologies has such detrimental changes for people like you and i so the fact that it's actually happening just blows my mind. isn’t it crazy?”

he pulls back just slightly, his lips quirking into a lopsided smile as he meets your eyes again. “crazy,” he agrees, though the glint in his gaze tells you he’s not entirely focused on the politics you’re rambling about.

but you don’t care. because in this moment, heaven looks like a boy who lets you ramble about the chaos in your mind while kissing you silly and what could possibly be better than this?

"how does your brain store so much?" he mutters, his voice low and laced with genuine curiosity. his fingers brush absently against your skin as he pulls back to look at you.

you grin, shrugging lightly. "i think it’s easy to remember things you find interesting. how many soccer players do you know by name?" you counter, raising a brow.

he nods with a lopsided smirk, conceding the point. "got me there," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on you. something shifts in the way he’s looking—soft but heated, like he’s cataloging every detail. his hair is tousled from your hands, his lips swollen from the past few minutes of losing himself in you, and those dark, dilated pupils seem to see through you entirely. he looks utterly undone and so painfully perfect that it makes your heart stutter.

you hesitate for a moment, nerves battling the growing pull toward him, before slowly shrugging off your knit cardigan. the weight of his eyes doesn’t falter as you tug the fabric from your shoulders. it’s not the cold air against your skin that makes you shiver—it’s him, the way his gaze turns unreadable, intense.

as your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt, you lift it inch by inch, exposing your tank top underneath. you tug it into place as the strap—too loose and stretched from wear—slips down your shoulder. his gaze snaps to that small sliver of bare skin, and you swear you see his jaw tighten.

your breaths come slower, more measured, as you reach up to push the other strap down, your fingers trembling slightly. just as it slips, his hand darts out, stopping you gently but firmly.

"you don’t want—" the words tumble out of you in a rush, panic and self-doubt crashing in like waves.

"of course, i do," he interrupts, his voice immediate, steady, grounding. "course, i want you. i want this." his thumb brushes featherlight over your shoulder as he leans in to pull the strap back into place. the gesture feels like both a reverence and a reassurance, and your chest tightens at the tenderness of it.

"but," he continues, his tone soft but deliberate, "ten minutes ago, you asked me to go slow. and just before that, you couldn’t even handle me saying the word 'porn' in your presence." the corner of his mouth quirks up in that teasing way that feels like it’s meant to defuse the tension.

you can’t help but let out a small laugh, one that eases some of the nerves still coiled in your chest. "mm, okay. true." you slide off his lap reluctantly, preparing to create some space, but he doesn’t let you go far. his hand catches yours, tugging you back into place.

"but," he says again, this time a whisper that dances between the two of you, heavy with promise, "we can do what we did last week…" his free hand trails up, his fingers brushing your hair back. his lips find yours, slow and deliberate, the heat of his touch setting your skin aflame. "and maybe a little more."

his words linger against your lips as he kisses you again, this time deeper, and you melt into him. your feel weak, and you’re grateful for his arms around you, steadying you, keeping you grounded. for now, you’re here, with him, the rest of the world fading into an unimportant blur.

your lips finally meet, and the sensation is overwhelming, a fever spreading through your body as heat blooms beneath your skin. every nerve feels alive, crackling with electricity as your fingers instinctively thread through his hair, your grip hesitant at first but growing firmer as his hands find your waist, pulling you closer like he can’t bear to let you slip away.

the kiss is everything—more than last week, deeper, more intense. his teeth graze your bottom lip, and your body arches toward him involuntarily, a soft whine escaping before you can stop it. he takes the opportunity to part your lips, his tongue sliding against yours with a confidence that makes you melt. you know he can tell you’re inexperienced, his movements deliberate, guiding you like he’s speaking a secret language through touch alone, teaching you how to follow his lead.

as the moments pass, you start to understand—how to move, how to meet his rhythm, how to make it good for him. the realization that you’re succeeding comes when he lets out a soft groan, the sound low and raw and entirely new. it’s exhilarating, uncovering pieces of him no one else has, learning what makes him tick.

you pull back just enough to breathe, gasping softly as his lips trail after yours, placing feather-light kisses that leave you dizzy. before you can steady yourself, he shifts his attention, lips brushing down your neck. at first, you think it’ll be sweet, the same soft kisses from earlier, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

his mouth turns ravenous against your skin, nipping and sucking with a ferocity that leaves you reeling. your body tenses at the sudden intensity, a flood of pleasure replacing the brief surprise. soft moans spill from your lips, unbidden, and your hands tug at his hair, urging him closer as his mouth maps every inch of your neck.

"rafe…" you exhale, the name slipping out in a breathy whisper as he continues his assault, each kiss igniting something deeper inside you. he’s relentless, leaving no spot untouched, and while your brain tries to remind you to tell him not to leave marks, your body doesn’t care. you’re too far gone, too wrapped up in the moment to consider future consequences.

he has you completely undone, your body pliant under his touch, and when your hips buck against him without permission, he freezes. slowly, he pulls back, his breath heavy as his eyes meet yours. they’re dark, hazy with desire, yet tinged with restraint. "alright," he murmurs, his voice low and strained. "that’s good… think we’re getting a bit carried away."

the rational part of you knows he’s right, but the part of you currently tangled up with the most magnetic boy you’ve ever known? that part couldn’t care less.

"uh huh.." you're nodding as if you agree even though your lips are finding his again, hungrier this time, desperation spilling into every kiss. you can’t bear the thought of letting him go, the taste of him too intoxicating to resist. his hands come to your shoulders, trying to steady you, but the moment he pulls back, the beginnings of a warning on his lips, you silence him with another kiss, deeper this time, pouring everything you’re feeling into it. and for a moment, he lets go—he kisses back with a force that steals the air from your lungs. his resistance crumbles beneath the weight of his own desire, the kind of need that’s buried so deep it aches to surface. his lips move against yours, his hands trailing to your waist as if he’s forgotten why he should stop, as if it’s impossible for him to resist, and he doesn’t—at least, not right away.

you’re insatiable, your thoughts scattered, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. but rafe pulls back again, this time with a sharp, frustrated breath, and gently moves you from his lap onto the bed, standing so quickly it feels like he’s trying to physically distance himself from the tension.

he runs a hand through his tousled hair, pacing toward your desk. "slow," he says, his voice strained, almost pleading now. "we just said slow." the firmness in his tone doesn’t mask the desire still lingering in his eyes, a battle between restraint and something far more primal.

you’re left sitting there, panting softly, your body alight with sensations you’ve never felt before. your mind is racing, flickering like a switchboard as you replay every moment. how were you supposed to be patient now, knowing what his touch felt like, knowing how easily he could unravel you? waiting even a day, a moment longer, feels impossible.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa @fveapplestall @chalametlover444 @slutglimreqpers @uarmyhopeworldwide @junxe3 @bakuhoethotski @wintercrows 

let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[writeroutoftime]

pawns in your game (part 2/2)

part one

pairing: cassian x reader

summary: upon waking up, cassian and the rest of the inner circle are relieved, but it seems there are still some wounds that need healing.

warnings: none, but some conversations that need to happen in ACOTAR canon lol

words: 1.6k

a/n: thank you for all the support and love for part one! sorry for the wait on the second (and final) part, I just had so much trouble! the conversation between you, cass, rhys, and feyre was written like 3 different times lol. anyway, now that it is finished, please enjoy and I'd love to hear what you think! have a fabulous day! '

(also, if you have any other requests for our acotar men, please send them my way!)

oOoOo

Two days passed since Rhys and Cass had their conversation. Neither male spoken to the other since, and word had spread through the rest of the Inner Court over what had occurred. Cass, however, couldn't find it himself to care as he continued to keep vigil over your bedside, only sleeping when he could no longer force his eyes open through the weight that threatened to drag them down.

Suddenly, body feeling as though it weighed a thousand tons, you opened your eyes, groaning at the soft sunlight that streamed into the room. The sheets beneath you felt scratchier than normal beneath your body, and it took a moment to realize you were in the med wing.

You felt a heavy weight in your left hand, and carefully, you shifted your gaze to see Cassian gripped it tightly. His back and wings were hunched over as he slept in what seemed to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Although you were hesitant to wake him, you needed water and to know what had happened, so you shook your hand to wake your mate up.

In response, Cass shot straight up, his siphons pulsed a warning red as if he thought you and he were in some kind of danger. But once his mind and body had more than a moment to react his hazel eyes found yours and widened to the size of saucers.

"You're up!" he shouted, tears lining his eyes. Without thinking, Cass leaned forward and engulfed your body in his, and you didn't miss the way his body shook slightly in relief.

"I'm here, I'm okay." you whispered, running your fingers through his tangled hair. "H-how long have I been out?" you whispered, voice scratchy and rough.

"Nearly a week." Cass explained, pulling away and hurrying to grab a glass of water from the bedside table. "Here, drink."

The cool relief of water slipped down your throat, and you already felt better. Sore, you tried to stretch your body out to the best of your ability while trying to recall everything that occurred after leaving the Spring Court manor. "What happened?"

Cass barely held back a growl at the thought. "While you and Rhysand were in the Spring Court, there was an armed guard looking to shoot him with an arrow. But you, being the selfless female you are," Cass chided. "jumped in front of him and were shot with an especially strong dose of poison."

Silence rested between you both, and you could feel the waves of grief that poured down from Cassian's side of the bond. You could only imagine what he must have felt like the past week. If the roles had been reversed, you would have been a mess, tearing apart anything and anyone that got in the way of your wrath.

"I-I think I remember jumping in front of Rhys. He killed the Spring Court solider right away and didn't know what to do. Somehow, he managed to winnow us both back here, and that's all I remember." you admitted.

"That damn bargain." Cass said, growling this time. "We could do the same thing, and then how fucked would the Night Court be."

There was an anger that pulsed from Cass which went deeper than just being worried about his mate. Slowly, you shifted from your spot and moved to sit up against your pillows. "Cass," you began slowly. "what else happened while I was asleep?"

Cassian did not look the least bit guilty as he looked you straight in the eyes. "I told Rhysand off. I told him how I felt about his precious bargain that allows him and Feyre to stay protected while the rest of us suffer the consequences."

An odd feeling washed over you at Cassian's words. On one hand, you can't believe that Cass spoke those words to his brother - to his High Lord. On the other hand, you always felt a small pang of pride that Cassian stood his ground, and yours by extension. But you knew neither of those feelings fixed the larger issue at hand.

"Cass," you started, before he interrupted you.

"I'm not sorry for what I said. It's something we've all been thinking since before Nyx's birth, but, apparently, I was the only one who had the balls to actually say something.

Your teeth caught against your lips, trying, and failing, to hold back a laugh at your mate's words. "I did not protect Rhys because of his and Feyre's bargain, nor because of my oath to him as High Lord." you began carefully. "I did it because he is my friend, and I know he would do the same for me." you confessed.

Cassian was disgruntled at the suggestion. Opening his mouth, most likely to spew more insults against Rhys, you beat him to the punch.

"But," you continued. "I also feel as though sometimes it is overbearing to have to be even more responsible for Rhys and Feyre's survival, especially now that Nyx is involved. I think we need to talk to them." you admitted, motioning for Cassian to rest against you so you could lean your head against his solid shoulder.

The two of you laid there for quite some time before there was a tentative knock at the door. Your High Lord and Lady stuck their heads in, trying to read Cassian's mood. However, Feyre's eyes widened when she noticed your eyes open, and body propped up in bed. A wide smile overtook her face, and she abandoned her mate to rush to your side. 

"You're awake!" she cried, grasping her free hand in yours and squeezing tightly.

Rhys continued to stand by the door, wary of Cass' razor-sharp gaze that seemed to pierce through to his soul. Only the tiniest bit of his guilt alleviated seeing you up after so long. "How are you feeling?" 

"Still sore, but doing alright." you admitted, shrugging your shoulders as though you had merely scrapped a knee.

There was an awkward silence that descended upon the room, and none of you knew how to fix it. Cass pulled you even closer to his side and threaded his hand in yours. Meanwhile, Feyre and Rhys shared a private conversation, silently debating who should be the first to broach the elephant in the room.

"I think we need to talk." you finally began. 

At the same time, Rhys blurted out. "I'm so sorry that this happened, y/n." 

You both stared at one another, really taking the other in. Rhys noted the bandage wrapped around the shoulder where the arrow had met its target. He noticed the way your eyes would flinch in pain whenever you pulled at your muscles wrong and the look of fatigue that overtook your features. From your perspective, it was impossible to miss the dark shadows under Rhys' eyes and the guilt that remained present in his eyes and across his face. 

"I don't blame you for what happened. I hope you know that, Rhysand." you said, squeezing your mate's hand, as you stared straight into Rhys' violet eyes. 

"But I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings. After everything that's happened with Spring, I don't know why I wasn't already expecting something like this to occur. That arrow was meant for me, y/n, and you saved my life." he said, eyes flickering to Feyre for a brief moment, his meaning clear. Rhys cleared his throat, trying not to sound as choked up. "I don't believe it's been said, and you deserve so much more than this, but thank you." 

The words were simple, yet heartfelt all the same. You didn't need to be a daemati to know that Rhys meant every word he spoke. Feyre nodded her head in agreement, sending a message of thanks and gratitude your way. Your heart warmed at the gesture, but a look towards Cassian told you he still was unimpressed. 

"You are my friend, no thanks necessary. Though it is appreciated nonetheless." you smiled. "But," you continued, letting the word hang in the air. "I know little of what happened before I woke up, and it feels like we need to talk about that too." 

The male holding your hand at least had the decency to shift uncomfortably at the thought. Though, he still did not start up any conversation, instead, feeling justified in the words he said to defend his mate - the love of his life. 

Feyre must have been filled in on the details of Rys' and Cass' conversation because a haunted look morphed across her features. "We never meant for our bargain to become a burden on our family." she whispered, staring down at her tattooed hands.  

Cass scoffed at the statement, and you smacked your hand against his chest and narrowed your eyes in his direction. "What?" he protested. "I thought we wanted to have an honest conversation here?" 

"Cass is right." Rhys spoke. "I don't think we every really had a discussion about what this bargain means for us as a family. So," he paused, glancing at Feyre who nodded. "we want to hear how you feel about everything that has gone down." 

"I think it was a fucking stupid idea." Cass spoke up, not caring how it sounded. 

"Harsh, but fair, I suppose." Rhys said with a stilted laugh, trying to ease the tension. 

"I think what Cass is trying to say," you began. "is that, of course, we know what our oath to you as our High Lord and Lady means. But, when you told us about the other bargain, it felt as though the weight of the world fell on our shoulders." 

Feyre reached out to grasp Rhys' hand for support. "Cassian is right, it was stupid on our part. We weren't even thinking when we made that vow." 

"What would you have done, Cassian?" Rhys added, trying to appeal to his brother.

A part of your heart ached at Feyre's words. Turning your head, you gave Cassian a soft gaze and sent a wave of love and adoration down the bond. He and you both knew there wasn't anything the other wouldn't do for you. It could have just as easily been you and he with the death bargain hanging over your shoulders. 

"Love may not always make sense, but that doesn't make it stupid. It's not like Cass and I wouldn't have done the same thing in a moment of high emotions." you admitted. "Though, our deaths don't necessarily lead to the Night Court being thrown into chaos." 

Rhys and Feyre both looked ashamed at the statement. "That is a conversation Rhys and I have had many times. And something we've been planning to share with you all. Soon." she promised, nodding solemnly.

You and Cass both nodded at the sentiment. It was a relief to know all this worrying had not been one-sided all these months. However, Feyre's words did not - nor could not - suddenly fix everything. There was still an acknowledgement of their actions that had yet to be addressed. An acknowledgement of the fear you and the rest of the Inner Circle had felt since and all the sacrifices which had been made.

"Feyre and I see the effort you and Cass have put into keeping us safe, I hope you know that." Rhys offered. "I can't say for certain what will continue to come of this situation, but Feyre and I promise to keep looking for a solution and to make sure you, and the rest of our family, feel heard. I'm sorry it's taken until tragedy struck for us to have this talk." he finished, baring the guilt and fear that had been marring his soul for the past week to you and his brother.

Cass looked his brother in the eyes, holding the stare for a few moments. Your breath stopped as you braced yourself for another blow out, but through your squinted eyes you noticed the way the tension had dissipated from Cass' body ever so slightly.

"It doesn't fix everything," Cass started, and all three of you in the room tensed, waiting for another raging display of anger. "but it's a start." he relented.

The two Illyrians locked eyes, and Cass tightened his grip on you as he and Rhys had a silent conversation. The two knew there would be much more talking and healing that needed to happen first, but eventually you were sure things would turn out all right.

After all, it was a start.

oOoOo

a/n: there it is, part 2! like I said, I was really nervous about posting this, and I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations!

tagging: @captainsophiestark, @eerievixen, @kylaisra, @tele86, @starsinyourseyes, @lisanna2000, @highladyivy

[xlatrina]

(Pt. II.1) Friends to Lovers HCs w/Homicipher x GN!Reader

Tags: Platonic + Romantic HCs, Friends to Lovers trope for basically every LI, Likely OOC for some LIs*, Mini Scenarios (so HCs are kinda plot-driven), *Multi-Part Series, entirely SFW

Also, changing tenses in some cases + not proofread again... sorry!

*Some of the LIs are likely written OOC (Out Of Character) mainly due to a lack of substantial in-game appearances (at least in my opinion!). 

*Split into multiple parts because I’ve come to realize that these HCs are muuucccchhh too long 😅 BUT!! I’m too lazy to shorten them sooo… YEAH lol

Part I (Big 🙆‍♂️)

Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓)

Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)

$$$

Mr. Chopped (First Half/Second Half)

For someone who’s just a head, he gets around!

When you decided to help him out back in that weird room, Mr. Chopped was so elated.

Yes, yes!! Finally, some help!!

He’s been stuck in that room for like… three hours.

Which isn’t that bad, it definitely could’ve been worse, but like… still.

Anywho, point is —he decided from that moment forward that the two of you are friends!

Good friends, at that.

He tells Mr. Silvair this all the time.

“Mystery person help! They help me! They friendly!” He’ll grin from ear to ear, his cheeks squeezing into his eyes.

And Mr. Silvair will just chuckle and say something along the lines of, “Mystery person good? How interesting.”

Mr. Chopped has volunteered you to be one of his closest buddies.

Which means you are now basically his caretaker LMAO

Or at least whenever Mr. Silvair is unavailable somehow.

“Could you carry? Can you help me?”

This’ll become a common request from Mr. Chopped.

Eventually, it goes from asking to demanding.

“You take me! Go there! Yes, yes! That way! Is ok. This place I know good!”

He says that, but you’ve circled the same set of halls like… three times.

It can get a little weary sometimes being Mr. Chopped’s defacto caretaker, but he tries to keep your mood light with his silly banter.

Even though he’s been in the Apartments longer than you, it seems he hasn’t been there as long as others.

He more or less explains this to you over time.

On one of your many adventures through the halls of the apartment complex, the both of you came across a door that led into a stairwell.

It was odd because it kind of just… appeared.

You’ve definitely walked down this hall quite a few times now (no thanks to Mr. Chopped’s fluctuating sense of direction).

When you propose going through the stairwell, Mr. Chopped purses his lips tightly and falls silent for a long time.

Just as you get ready to ask again, he huffs, blowing some loose strands away from his face.

“That way want to go?” He asks. But before you can respond, he follows up with, “That ok. If there to go you want, that ok. But I not know that place…”

Ah…

Well! If nothing else, you can’t say Mr. Chopped isn’t adventurous!

Being friends with Mr. Chopped means you get to see all of his cute little expressions.

He always has an exaggerated reaction to everything!

Walking through the stairwell, for example, one of the lights flickered, and just as it went completely black for a second, there was a quiet whisper. When the lights came back on, the whisper bounced through the area, lifting up toward wherever the stairs led to…

When that happened, Mr. Chopped immediately asked, “What you say? I not hear good.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you said. Mr. Chopped seems confused by your response, and to the best of your ability, you repeat yourself in his language. 

“You say you not make sound?” He asks sharply, his voice thundering through the stairwell.

You jump in surprise, jostling him (much to his mild annoyance and discomfort).

“No, no make sound,” You said. “Do you make sound?”

“No! No make sound!” Mr. Chopped yells. Small tears gather in the corners of his eyes, and he squeezes them shut as a deep frown seeps into his face.

“Leave here together! Me scared! This place not safe!”

Safe to say you booked the both of you out of there as soon as you could.

It isn’t too long after that, though, that the two of you finally find yourself in the familiar hall leading to the basement. There, you two find Mr. Silvair just as he’s about to enter the room, and noticing your approaching figure at the top of the stairs, Mr. Silvair smiles warmly.

He lets you and Mr. Chopped in first, and it’s then that you both begin to tell Mr. Silvair about y’all’s odd experience.

Though, Mr. Chopped did more of the talking…

So much more of the talking, lol.

At some point, you and Mr. Silvair find yourselves sitting on the couch, and Mr. Chopped nestles into the space between you two.

He just continues to babble on and on and on about the somewhat scary adventure you both had, and you and Mr. Silvair patiently listen.

Sometimes, you wonder who can yap more —Mr. Chopped or Mr. Crawling?

That being said, Mr. Chopped likely develops feelings for you after just being in your presence for long enough.

He greatly appreciates you helping him maneuver through the Apartments, and he knows Mr. Silvair appreciates your help, too.

These days, Mr. Chopped finds himself talking with both Mr. Silvair and you!

And soon, there are many moments more when Mr. Chopped finds himself talking with you alone.

You’re just so fun to talk to, he feels like he can talk to you about anything!

Continue? -> Second Half

[Part I (Mr. Big 🙆‍♂️) | Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓, First Half/Second Half), Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)]

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello, I was wondering if you could do a Ra's Al Ghul x eldest son reader, where the reader is being courted by Ra's and the Batfamily's reactions to seeing their brother receiving gifts from Ra's

Okay, I have screamed when I got this. If anybody wants me to write about Ra's, when I open my requests, please do send them. Pretty please. I just love Ra's. Also, 2.8k words! My fingers hurt, but I love it.

Summary: Ra's is courting (Y/N). (Y/N) really doesn't know how to feel.

Warnings: Ra's is sending gifts to (Y/N), Bruce is protective, everyone is protective, implications of smut, stalking(?), Ra's is a gentleman, dinner, first date, Alfred has a shotgun ready for Ra's

(Y/N) has known Ra's for a very long time. A little over 11 years now. Ra's has in a way see him grow up from being a little Robin, a little, defenseless child to a brave vigilante by the name of (V/N). He had, alongside his family had run ins with Ra's.

Ra's has tried to kill him a few times, tried to destroy Gotham City just to cleanse it again, kidnapped (Y/N) once to try to brainwash him and has an unhealthy obsession with Bruce being his heir.

He has heard it in many of his monologues through the years. It made Alfred roll his eyes and just cock his shotgun in response. It was a scary sight once, when (Y/N) was just a teen. (Y/N) knew that Alfred doesn't have a no kill rule like Bruce.

Somehow, Alfred is now the main rival of the infamous Ra's al Ghul. Over Bruce. At first, (Y/N) was concerned for his grandpa, but Alfred assured him that nothing will happen to him.

Now, (Y/N) has just started college, paid for by Bruce who made a college fund when he adopted (Y/N) officially. (Y/N) cried when he got accepted and then told that it was paid.

He still lived at home while he was looking for a job to work while in college and to get his own place and officially move out of the manor and be independent. Bruce advised him to save all of that money and use it when he starts officially working after college and to get a head start on his future apartment.

But for some reason, (Y/N) has seemed to forgotten about Ra's. He has been quiet and the family's attention was always on Gotham rouges for the last year so Ra's was not even on his mind at his point. But it has all changed one random day.

(Y/N) walked through the doors of the manor, tired from working. He took his shoes off and quickly went to the kitchen where his family was seated, looking confused, worried and angry. (Y/N) was confused and Bruce quickly walked over to his son, shielding him from the kitchen.

" Hey (Y/N), how was work? "Bruce asked and (Y/N) just raised a brow. He wasn't fooled with anything that they were trying to pull. He is an adult, not a child.

" Bruce, you know I love you, but whatever it is, I can handle it. " (Y/N) said, crossing his arms. Bruce wanted to sigh, but choose not to. He stepped aside to let (Y/N) see what was the fuss about.

He stopped when he saw flowers, a big bouquet light purple flowers. The boys stepped aside too, letting him look at the flowers. (Y/N) leaned forward, sniffing them. They were fresh, that much was obvious and they were safe to come close to them.

(Y/N) noticed a small card on the kitchen island next to it. The little card was emerald green with his name written over it in beautiful golden cursive letters. (Y/N) got an uneasy feeling, but still took the card to read through his contents.

To my (Y/N),

A sign of my love and courtship,

and a perfect gift for an elegant and dainty person.

Yours, Ra's al Ghul.

(Y/N) blinked a few times before opening his mouth, but he closed it quickly. Is this a game? A psychological trick for (Y/N) to let his guard down?

Ra's al Ghul is everything but a liar, but that doesn't mean that he won't trick you into a false sense of security.

" What the hell is this? " (Y/N) asked, turning to his family. Bruce wanted to say something, but he didn't know what.

" We don't know. It has been here when we all came back. " Damian said and he looked disturbed. He walked over to (Y/N) to hug him and (Y/N) wrapped his arms around him.

" Damian, don't take this the wrong way, but your grandfather is nuts." (Y/N) said, looking back at the card.

" These are called Asteria. They are meant for expressing the love in subtle ways. " Damian said, just hugging his older brother a bit tighter.

" Well, that is nice to know. " (Y/N) said and Jason looked outright disturbed.

" Whatever it is, I don't like it. " Tim and Dick agreed with him, voicing their agreements with their own opinions.

" Master (Y/N), I always have a shotgun ready in case of an emergencies. " Alfred said and (Y/N) chuckled at that.

" I will keep that in mind Alfred. " (Y/N) said and Bruce sighed quietly.

" I don't think I need to tell you to stay more vigilant... And I need to upgrade our security system. How do they keep breaking in? " Bruce wondered and Alfred just glanced towards the pantry.

His beloved shotgun is always ready.

" Al Ghuls can break in anywhere. " (Y/N) said, glancing at Damian with a smile on his face, trying to show Damian that he wasn't mad at him. Damian just sighed quietly, hugging his brother tightly.

" Okay, when we are out somewhere one of us will escort you. Same goes for patrol. "

(Y/N) sighed, shaking his head. " Bruce, I don't need bodyguards. " (Y/N) protested, but Bruce shook his head. " (Y/N)- "

" I can be with him father! " Damian chimed in and (Y/N) nearly gave in an urge to coo at him. Nearly.

" Dames, my baby brother, I love you, but you have school. " (Y/N) explained and then turned back to Bruce.

" I'm not having anybody tag me. " (Y/N) stated firmly.

" Okay, how about a compromise? " Bruce suggested and (Y/N) nodded, waiting for the proposition.

" You can switch to online classes until we figure it out. " Bruce said and (Y/N) shook his head.

" No. I won't stop my life because of him. " (Y/N) said and Bruce knows that there won't be a compromise with him.

" Just promise me you will be careful then. " Bruce said and (Y/N) nodded.

" If you need me too, I can drive you to college. " Jason chimed in.

" I can drive you back. " Dick added.

" And I can make sure that your phone is impossible to track. " Tim said and (Y/N) nodded.

" And I can give my blades. " Damian said and (Y/N) now cooed at Damian.

" Oh my sweet dear Dames, I knew you loved me. " (Y/N) joked and Damian grumbled something before letting go of (Y/N).

" I tolerate you at best. " Damian grumbled and (Y/N) smiled at his brother.

The next thing that has happened was a very expensive looking suit made in his measurements and in Ra's signature color, emerald. It was hanging in his room and (Y/N) simply went to Alfred who took his beloved shotgun to clear the manor.

The others were quick to ditch work or school and came home. Bruce closed off (Y/N)'s room as a crime scene and Tim quickly went down to scan the cameras. Alfred made some tea for (Y/N) who was a little bit shaken up.

He still held on his shotgun, watching his oldest grandson like a hawk. (Y/N) was shaken up because his room, his space, was defiled in a way. Sure, he didn't look for anything specific, he just left the suit, but it still felt like he has been defiled. It's the sanctity of the room.

" How are they breaking in? " Jason asked as he walked in from the garden. He scoured the area around the mansion. He didn't like this at all.

" Master Jason, they are Al Ghuls, they can break in into almost everything. " Dick said from the outside as he was still searching for clues.

" This is insane. " Damian admitted, walking in with a tablet in his hands. " Nothing on the footage. " Damian said, putting the tablet down.

(Y/N) took a sip of his tea, trying to not really think about this.

" Was anybody at home? " (Y/N) asked and they all shook their heads. (Y/N) sighed quietly.

" He has to monitor us then. " (Y/N) said and Jason clicked his tongue.

" More like he monitors you. " Jason said, making Dick smack him at the back of his head.

" Hey! "

" Don't make the situation worse. " Dick said and Jason grumbled something that (Y/N) couldn't make out.

" He is getting ballsy. " (Y/N) muttered and Alfred nodded, shotgun still in his hold. (Y/N) glanced at Alfred who was holding the shotgun over his shoulders, looking like cowboy.

" How long will you hold on? " (Y/N) asked Alfred who just shrugged.

" Until master Bruce clears your room. And until we know what the old bastard wants. "

Just the person that Alfred mentioned walked in.

" No sign of a break in, I scanned for any type of drugs, there are none, no listening devices and that's about it. " Bruce said, rubbing his face. What does Ra's want with his son?

" When he comes to Gotham, I'm going to maim him. " Bruce growled out and (Y/N) knew that it was just a matter of time when Ra's came. The others are aware of it too.

(Y/N) won't be going on patrol alone anymore.

The day when Ra's came to Gotham came about a week later. (Y/N) finished everything he needed for the day and was walking down the college stone stairs. He went to the parking lot to get his car, but stopped when he saw Ra's standing next to his car.

He looked great as always. A dark green suit, similar to the one he sent to (Y/N), a few rings on his fingers. He smirked in his usual way when he saw (Y/N). (Y/N) just clicked his tongue in annoyance.

" Ra's... "

" Did you like my gifts? I have one more on the way. " Ra's said, walking closer. (Y/N) stood still, allowing Ra's to walk closer to him. My God, Ra's since when did Ra's become so good looking? Wait... What the actual fuck is happening? Why is he thinking that way?!

" I don't know what you are playing at, but all of this has to stop. " (Y/N) said and Ra's tilted his head.

" I know you still have the flowers and I know you have the suit I have sent you. If you really wanted me to stop, you would make a point to burn them habibi. " Ra's said ever so smoothly, using the pet name. (Y/N) knows a good amount of Arabic thanks to Damian and he blushed.

" Ra's, it's wrong. I have known you since I was 8. It's fucking wrong. " (Y/N) tried and Ra's shook his head with an amused smile.

" I can see you don't really mean it. And why not give it a chance? You know I pick my partners carefully. I know you very well and I know you are strong. I want a strong partner and I know you can be that. "

" This isn't a ploy to make Bruce or Damian take over the League? " (Y/N) asked and Ra's shook his head.

" It's not a ploy habibi. " Ra's started, something shining in his eyes. (Y/N) saw the sheer sincerity and honesty behind the eyes. Those two qualities are often replaced with coldness.

" Ra's- "

" How about we give it a chance? I promise you we will be in Gotham and won't leave the city at all. " Ra's said, now in (Y/N)'s personal space, taking his hands into his, still looking into his eyes. (Y/N) swallowed as he looked down at their hands. He knows that he should say no to these feelings that started surfacing during the week.

He should say no.

" Okay. I will give it a chance. " (Y/N) said and Ra's smiled. (Y/N) looked up to see a sincere smile, the one that gave him wrinkles around his eyes.

" Can I kiss your cheek? " Ra's asked and (Y/N) nodded, not trusting his voice right now.

Ra's kissed his cheek so gently that (Y/N) wouldn't believe that he is an assassin.

" I will see you tonight habibi. Wear the suit I sent you for tonight. I will pick you up at 6. " Ra's said, glancing behind (Y/N)'s shoulder. (Y/N) turned around where his dad was and he seemed pissed.

Ra's was already gone and (Y/N) knows he will hear no end of it.

Nobody could stop him from going on the date. Damian was conflicted, but if it made (Y/N) happy, then sure. But he will go after his grandfather if he hurts him.

The rest of the family tried to get him to stay home, but (Y/N) said that he will go. Alfred said that if he gets hurt, Ra's will be dead by sunrise and won't be able to come back to life with the pit.

The others tried to agree with Alfred and Damian, but they couldn't. But they had to trust (Y/N)'s decision. And who knows? Maybe it will be a... Well, it will at least be a better story than Twilight.

And if Ra's is serious, Bruce will be make sure to test him. Damian too. Alfred will be ready with his shotgun. He has been dropping bodies for years before becoming a butler.

He is not afraid.

(Y/N) was picked up by Ra's at 6 pm on the dot. The ride was filled with a nice conversation and a lot of compliments from Ra's. The restaurant that Ra's choose was extremely fancy and (Y/N) knows that the food is good here.

The dinner was the best dinner that (Y/N) has ever had. The date went well too. Ra's and (Y/N) had a conversation about everything that came to mind and they didn't even touch on their... Other jobs, well, a better phrase would be their other sides.

(Y/N) loved it and then, Ra's took him to the hotel where he was staying. It was a penthouse, how could it not be? Then they kissed officially and then passion overtook them both.

(Y/N) opened his eyes, gently rubbing his eyes. He turned around and he didn't see Ra's next to him. He was alone in bed. Where is Ra's? He was wearing boxers and he was covered in love bites. Ra's saw how tactile he is during sex and would he leave him?

He tried to get up, but his hips were hurting. He hissed as he laid back down. He didn't want to strain himself.

After a minute, the door opened and Ra's entered with bags. He smiled when he saw that (Y/N) was awake.

" Good morning habibi. I just went to get us breakfast from your favorite place. " He said, sitting down next to him with the bags, showing him what he bought.

All of (Y/N)'s favorite things.

" Thanks. " (Y/N) said and Ra's saw something in (Y/N)'s demeanor.

" Did you think I really left you all alone without a reason? Oh habibi. " Ra's crooned at him, kissing him softly with a smile.

After they separated, (Y/N) sat up straight and started eating. It was nice and after they ate, Ra's cleaned up and laid back down with (Y/N). (Y/N) still remembers last night.

How Ra's treated him gently, kissing him gently, making sure that he gelt good throughout... And the aftercare was something that (Y/N) didn't believe that Ra's knew. He was cleaned up in the shower, then Ra's helped him with putting his underwear on and then led him to the bed where he embraced him tightly.

" So (Y/N), what do you think? " Ra's asked, hands gently caressing his body in a nonsexual way.

" I think I would like a second date. " (Y/N) said, nuzzling Ra's neck.

" And your family is okay with this? "

" Oh not really, but they trust me and if you hurt me, there will be hell to pay. " (Y/N) said, closing his eyes.

" Are you still tired? " Ra's asked and (Y/N) hummed in agreement. Ra's adjusted and (Y/N) fell asleep quickly. Ra's didn't fall asleep, instead he just watched (Y/N) and his face.

He didn't know when his feelings started for him, but he wanted to do this properly. If he did anything against (Y/N), Bruce would be there to destroy the League and Alfred would kill him.

He had no doubt about it.

But he didn't have any plans to hurt (Y/N). He will make sure to show (Y/N) that he genuinely loves him and that this is not a ploy for any of his schemes.

[melanated-writersblock]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Sound Check ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[Rockstar!Yuta x BlackFem!Rockstar!Reader]

content: piv, fingering (f!recieving), oral (f!recieving)

a/n: ion know I feel like this is lowkey vanilla BUT WHO CARES TUMBLR NEEDS NAKAMOTO YUTA CRUMBS. YUTAMIS COME GET YOUR JUICE!!!!

*knock!*

*KNOCK!*

*KNOCK!*

*KNOCK!*

*KNOCK!*

*KNOCK!*

*KNOCK!*

“What are you doing in there?! The band is on in fifteen minutes!!!”

Your manager bangs on your dressing room door trying to keep everything in order.

“I’m coming!” You inhale sharply,

“Everybody’s in position and the crowd is already rowdy-”

“FUCK! I said I’m coming!!!”

You brace your hands against the vanity mirror, with the side of your face flush against the cold glass. Yuta laughs at your response with a fist full of your blue and black braids wrapped around his hands as he fucks into you.

“I’m cummingggg~” Yuta leans in closer to your ear, mocking you shamelessly. And you can’t even scold him, in fear of drawing attention to the fact that you’re busy getting railed by your co-headliner.

“I need you out of there in ten minutes. Move your ass.” your manager stalks off, no longer on the other side of the door.

“Fuck, she’s moving it alright.” Yuta smacks your ass as you rock your hips back on him to meet his pace. “Fuckkk that feels so fucking good, are you always this cock hungry before a set?”

Your legs start to shake as your climax you warned about begins to wash over you. Yuta covers your mouth as your muffled cries get louder. “Shhh. Shhhhhh. I knowwww~ I knowwww. Shhhhh!” You lean your head back against his shoulder, his hand still stifling your whines. “If you’re gonna cum on my dick you have to be a good girl and do it quietly.” You shudder as Yuta works you through your second orgasm prolifically. Fast enough where your high is dragged out for what feels like minutes, but slow and deep enough to feel every detail and inch of him. Like it would be engraved in you somehow.

Neither of you want to admit it, but after your band went on tour and he opened for you, and you fucked him……And then he went on tour, and your band opened for him, and then he fucked you…..And you both started booking festivals, and being in the same lineups, and fucking each other…..it kind of became a ritual. You’d either fuck before either set to fight the nerves, or fuck afterward to keep the adrenaline going.

“Turn around and sit on the desk for me.”

You swiftly lift your skirt before sitting on the vanity and lean back against the mirror. Yuta takes in the state of you, smiling as the warm glow of the vanity lights make your running eyeliner and smeared lipstick look sacrilegiously angelic. He runs his hands up your thighs, spreading them wider, massaging circles into your soft flesh as his hand disappears under your skirt. He toys with your clit for a moment before retreating to spit on his fingers and replacing them again.

Lewd squelching noises get louder as Yuta had began thrusting his middle and ring finger in you at a deliciously fast pace. “Oooh that feels so good~”, “Uh-huh?” “Yesss~” “Yeahhh, you like it when I finger fuck this pussy don’t you?” “Yes I do like it!” Your voice filled with pleading and desperation, “Aww, I like when you get all needy right when you’re about to cum.” his voice filled with desperation and sincerity.

In all the years Yuta has known you, there was this impenetrable wall that you had up. Maybe it was for the fans, so that it didn’t become all too much. Maybe it was for the media, so their ignorance regarding what genre of music they think you belong in didn’t get to you. Or maybe it was for him, so he doesn’t get too attached to you. But in those moments when he’s bringing you pleasure, Yuta feels just that much closer to you lowering your guards. Just that much closer to you being vulnerable around him, even if it’s primarily sexual.

“Open up for me, come on~” Yuta continued to finger you, his digits curling at just the right spot turning you into a whimpering mess, and nearly shutting your brain off. “Come onnn cum for meee~” “Fuck I’m so close Yuta oh my Goddd~” “Close?” “Yes I’m so fucking close!” “Aww are my fingers not enough for you to cum?” “Fuckkk Yuta I can’t~” “You can’t?” “I can’t!” Desperate to see you come undone for him, Yuta hooks his arms around your thighs and yanks you to the edge of the vanity, hiking the back of your knees on his shoulders. Your pussy on full display for him, he spits on your cunt before leaning down to burry his face in you. Your head falls back in a silent scream, threatening to become vocal. “Mm-mnn. Donnn’t.” Yuta demands, still muffled between your shaking legs. You steady your breathing as you feel the tip of his tongue dance along the entrance of your leaking cunt, flicking and prodding every so often before trailing back up to kiss your clit. “Oh my God~” “Yeah?” In mere seconds, your climax washes over you deafeningly as Yuta’s mouth works you through it, lapping up your juices. “Ohhh fuckkk!” “Mmmh?” he moans, sending a vibration through your core that makes you shake uncontrollably.

You clock out for a second or two….or several…not realizing until your vision is readjusting to the brightness of your surroundings. “Wooo, okay! I got you.” Yuta rubs your thighs soothingly before helping you to your feet to fix your clothes. “Manager’s probably circling back soon, so…” You turn to the mirror, fixing your makeup but opting to keep the eyeliner unfixed and running. A stroke of creative freedom. You take in your renewed stoic appearance for a moment before looking over at Yuta standing behind you. “Thank you…..for this.” You smile softly at his reflection, and he returns it warmly, “Anytime.”

Heavy footsteps approach your dressing room door. Your manager clears their throat preparing to bang on the door, but before their fist can make contact with the hardwood, the door flys open.

“She said she’s coming.”

Yuta glares at your manager, brushing past them as he steps out of your dressing room. You mouth a sincere “Thank you” as he turns to you one final time,

“Go out there and crush it.”

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Hope you liked it! Lemme know your thoughts🫶🏾 ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹.Masterlist.⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

[stargirlfics]

Misbehavior

Joel Miller x Black F!Reader

Summary: It’s the first and last time you ever talk back to his face

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, post-outbreak, Joel and Ellie are settled in Jackson, established relationship, brat tamer!Joel vibes, smut: rough sex, unprotected vaginal sex, orgasm denial, hair pulling, spanking mentions, dirty talk

Word Count: 3.1k

Cannot stop thinking about Joel’s sick little smirk here! I want him to put me in my place so bad, hope you enjoy this one!

It’s the way Joel Miller looks riding his horse, a hunting knife on his hip and a rifle held expertly along with the reigns in his broad hands that makes your skin prickle and your breathing deepen. 

Spring is still yet thawing the cold woods ahead of you but you only feel heat staring at his sturdy shoulders, sturdy everything actually, that you knew to be a fact, smiling to yourself about it as your own horse trailed closeby just a few feet behind him. 

Being paired with him and being with him period felt right, natural, like somehow this was always where you were meant to be in this life. 

You trusted each other now, able to move in silence like this, with his steady and well adjusted trigger finger and your sharp eyes, pointing out tracks, watching for signs of life, listening for infected or raiders, the two of you undoubtedly working well together. 

In fact everyone in Jackson said so, especially Ellie, but if any of them knew just how much of a brat you’d been to him in the beginning they’d be surprised you were together at all. 

It’s not that you and him got off on the wrong foot, but keeping him just on the edge of aggravated kept you at a safe distance away from acting on your distracted, midday, late night thoughts about him. 

He was wary of strangers anyways and back then you were unknown to each other and gaining trust had taken time but eventually you stopped keeping each other at arm's length.

Started seeing each other around the stables more often, or rather you saw Ellie there and quickly learned that wherever she was, Joel wasn’t too far behind. 

You remembered showing her the way around the barn, where supplies were kept in case she ever needed anything, noticing her interest in the animals, encouraging it, indulging in her never ending questions because you only wanted to see her smile. 

In retrospect you think that’s why Joel tolerated your game of push and pull, why he warmed up to you in the end, because you were someone his kiddo approved of. 

Funny how things could change, how a relationship could form in between quiet glances and soft smiles, weathered walls falling at the brush of his hand against yours and that smooth drawl saying your name as if it were sacred. 

That was then and this was now, patrolling the perimeters together in the moonlight. 

A soft toned whistle that loosened from his lips caught your attention, spine straightening at the signal that was just for you and him. 

“Hm?” came your distracted hum, huffed in response while you picked up speed so your horses were walking almost side by side then. 

“I heard you went out on patrol completely on your own the other night, yeah? While knowin raiders have been close, ain’t that right? So I’m only going to say this once…start explaining.” 

His voice is clipped, a quiet, contained anger in them reminding you of his sharper edges, the ones you’d only caught glimpses of, heard whispers of, that visceral part of him that only raged to protect the people he loved most. 

Joel would never hurt you, if you were certain of anything it was that, but there were times where you wanted to feel even just a fraction of his wrathful touch, to be reminded of what he’s capable of, knowing he could make it hurt in the best way.

It’s the thought along with the shiver rolling through your limbs that makes your pace falter, as you scramble for words and then for air next when all you were met with was dark eyes cutting a pointed glance your way. 

“Fuck…ok yes, I did but it was only because there was already a group of us nearby, it felt safe. They sent someone back to get a message to me that they found tracks, a stag, just needed my help finding him. Then one of Tommy’s guys escorted me back, it was fine.”  

“Doesn’t mean you should have gone on your own, I  don’t give a damn how safe it was.” 

“Hey! I’ve been hunting and going on patrols by myself long before you showed up,” you shot back at his harsh retort, suddenly feeling defensive. “I know these woods like the back of my hand, I could be blindfolded and still come back with more game than you, old man.”

He scoffed at your insult, another heavy glare coming right after. 

“I don’t doubt that for a second, darlin. Just wish you would have told me is all I’m sayin.” 

There’s weight in his words, a deeper meaning you pick up immediately and you know he’s right and there’s no denying that you’d be chewing him out ten times worse if he’d done the same, the risk of losing each other an easy nerve to strike after all that’s happened. 

A beat of silence punctates the air before you’re speaking again, tone much softer, apologetic. 

“I hear you. I should have at least told you and I’m sorry I didn’t, I wasn't really thinking in the moment. Thank you, by the way, for caring about me enough to say something.” 

You hoped he could hear the guilt laced in your words, and the gratefulness of them too, still getting used to someone so wired to protect which never failed to make your heart flip. Nobody told you it could feel like this. 

“S’alright, of course I care. I don’t wanna downplay how skilled you are either, I just hate thinking of something happenin and not being there you know.” 

That had you smiling a little, pulse fluttering at the reminder of your feelings for each other, the gravity behind what he was saying. 

Gently you let your leg nudge his, both your horses slowing as you came to the edge of the perimeter you were watching.

“I promise it won’t happen again.” 

The softening edge of Joel’s eyes were visible now as he looked at you, giving you a firm but approving nod. 

Silence settles between you again, only lighter this time with feelings eased and things smoothed over though for you, there was a leftover kind of excitement stirring in your tummy. 

Your ears were still ringing with the gruffness of his voice, an antsy energy in your limbs at how stern he had been. Heated distraction lodged itself front and center in your mind, thoughts of Joel handling you just as harshly as his glares had been making you squirm in your saddle. 

A low chuckle interrupts the tiny sparks of a dirty daydream you didn’t even realize you’d fallen into until now. 

“What’s so funny?” you feign innocence. 

“Nothin, just think it’s cute when you get that look on your face, only happens when you’re hungry…or when you wanna be fucked.” 

Again, you were left scrambling for words for the second time tonight, heart hammering in your chest at the way the last few words slid from his lips, dripping with some unspoken invitation. 

“I-don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Disagreeing is pointless when you know he can see it written across your face but you refute anyways, adding a bit of attitude to your tone. 

Joel huffs another laugh, clicking his tongue while he encouraged his horse to move again, back in the direction you’d come. 

“Hm, you were so ready to agree with me just a minute ago, now you’re back to sassin me?” 

“Maybe I am. What’s so wrong about that?” you shrug and roll your eyes for good measure. 

He was opening up all the right doors and you were almost too eager to walk through them, craving the part of Joel you knew could get mean.

“I’m really gonna have to do something about that mouth of yours, huh,” he sighed, amusement curling around the edges of his lips. 

Butterflies danced in your core as you smirked back at him, finding your footing quick, “Oh I should hope so, I’ll be waiting.” 

It’s what you leave him with as you surge forward, not straying too far from his line of sight, but enough so that he has some distance to cover. 

Joel gives you a few seconds, lets you think you’re gaining some kind of upper hand before he sets out after you, a tick in his jaw and a hungry itch in his hands. 

–

It’s only a day later that you realize how screwed you are, facing down the stark reality of this little game you started. 

He had cornered you, finding you in the hall leading to his bedroom, a dark glint in his eyes when he tells you it’s an empty house tonight, just you, him and unfinished business. 

The tip of his boot moves to give your heel a light tap then, prompting you to move. 

“Want you in bed, sweetheart. Now.” 

There’s a suspended moment before you’re sealing your fate, pushing the pendulum fully in his direction.

“I don’t really feel like listening to you though, so I guess you’ll just have to make me…if you can even handle it,” you tip your chin up, trying not to be intimidated by the way he’s crowding your space. 

Your skin tingles, never having talked back to him so flat out before. 

Then you realize he’s already got you where he wants, strong hands snaking around your middle until he’s got one on your hip and the other reaching for a fistful of your hair, gripping firmly before he’s moving you forward, pushing you through the doorway. 

A sharp gasp bubbles up from your chest and he’s laughing darkly.  

There’s no use in resisting or struggling but you do anyway, finding a thrill in how easy it is for him to keep you locked in his grip, liking the aggressive pinch of his fingers as he moves your limbs for you, bringing you over to the bed, forcing you to bend over it.

Shaky hands reach for purchase against the sheets as Joel slides his palms over your ass, humming to himself. 

“I keep thinkin bout spanking this pretty ass of yours raw but you’d probably enjoy that too much wouldn’t you?” 

All you can do is whine, too worked up to think of anything witty to say which is probably for the best. 

No time was wasted, nothing held back, no teasing to be had, the two of you desperate now, needy. 

The heated skin of your thighs meets cool air as Joel strips you down, yanking at your clothes carelessly, so what if the fabric tears in his hands, he just needs you bare and underneath him already. 

You work on your top half, wriggling out of your t-shirt, tossing your bra to the floor, moonlight setting the brown of your skin aglow; Joel would have called you an angel if he didn’t know just how wicked your sweet self could really be. 

It’s not long before your cheek is pressed to the bed, hips high in the air, the dripping mess that you are on display as he fits himself behind you. 

He grins, undoing the buckle of his belt with one hand while the other braces against your hip, pressing down, deepening the arch in your back. 

Fuck. 

The arousal swirls achingly across your body, thighs clenching as you watch, his worn flannel falling the ground next to your jeans, your eyes feasting on the expanse of his shoulders, down over his chest, down to where he was drawing himself out, already stiff, flushed and aching to be buried deep. 

“Remember how to tell me if you wanna stop?” His question is one you’re expecting, nodding with a soft whine when he moves to grind his cock against where you’re wet and eager, your hand reaching back to tap a sequence against his skin. 

He seemed to approve of your demonstration, his free hand coating the rest of his length in your slick with a few dirty strokes of his fist before pressing against you, the tip catching and your walls yielding, letting him sink inside. 

“Oh..Joel!” your moan is strained, punctuated with a gasp as you stretch around him, tenderly accomodating to his size. 

There isn’t much time to adjust before he’s rolling his hips and pulling back, pushing an exhale from your lungs when he thrusts back in, nudging deep. 

“Goddamnit, sweetheart. Look at you.” 

There’s so much reverence in his voice, big brown eyes sparking wide with pleasure, so much so you think he just might have forgotten about your earlier insolence. 

But then he’s pulling his hips back and snapping them forward roughly, setting a steady pace that has you panting and crying out, peering over your shoulder at him as he starts to pound into you. 

It’s a sight that makes you clench around him, your ass bouncing back against his hips, the muscles in his forearms, his biceps, tensing from the effort. 

You feel your mind going hazy but a sharp smack to your thigh catches your attention and you realize there’s nowhere for you to run as Joel curves over you.

“Uh uh, it’s not gonna be that easy. You wanted to be a brat so bad, now I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

The hand that had been on your hip smoothes up your back, gripping the back of your neck with a firm squeeze before letting his full weight drive his hips down hard. 

Your teeth bite at his covers, loud pleas and moans barely muffled as he finds that spot, the one that always makes tears well in your eyes. 

Joel relishes in how your body trembles when he keeps himself angled there, watching you choke out apologies and pleas for more all in the same breath, his handprints bound to leave bruises on your skin from the way he’s holding you.

He knows you’re already sensitive, and your body already spent from keeping yourself upright through his thrusts, ones that still weren’t faltering, but he also knew you liked that it hurt so good too. 

“Joel, please I’m gonna-” you begin to sob, feeling the pressure in your core deepen only for it to dissipate as you’re eased off his length a minute later. 

You let your body sink, collapsing onto your tummy with a defeated cry, turning around to face the man who so rudely denied you an orgasm, whatever valid reasonings he had be damned. 

Stepping out of his boots and jeans fully now, you open up to him completely, no longer shy about wanting this so bad, encouraged by how much he seemed to be having fun too, more arousal dripping from your swollen folds at the intensity, the security in knowing he’d take care of you. 

You’d pissed him off with all your sass but you knew he’d never push you past your limits and it’s why you give in so easily now. 

Coherent thoughts fade from your head when Joel finally pulls you down towards the edge of the bed by your ankles and moves between your legs to guide himself back inside you easily, rough hands shoving your thighs back towards your chest so he can split you open and watch as he does. 

Any sense of time or day melts away, your only focus being Joel, only able to feel him, what he’s doing to you, whimpering out curses and moans as he bounces you on his cock, thick fingers reaching down to find your clit. 

The bliss and the pressure build again, making everything hazy once more, eyes fluttering with each thrust now cause you’re too fucked out to concentrate on anything but how good he feels. 

But Joel is watching, studying the pretty faces and sounds you make, one of his hands quick to find its way into your hair again, grabbing a fistful and pulling firmly and slowly, tilting your head up so you can’t do anything but look at him.  

“No, no you focus, right here. Right here, darlin.” he grits out and clinging to his forearms is all you can do to keep yourself steady. 

His other hand leaves your clit to grip at your jaw for a moment, strong legs spearing his hips into you over and over all the while, the wet gush of your pussy taking everything he gives you makes heat settle in your cheeks and spread across your chest. 

Wrecked moans are swallowed by messy kisses, the prickly stubble of his beard against your neck driving you crazy. 

Everything about him makes you clench, your thighs threatening to tighten around his waist the more he gives you. 

But you wanted him to be mean and he hadn’t forgotten, delivering a few searing smacks across your inner thighs, a warning that told you to be good and keep them spread. 

“That’s it, now she’s learning ain’t she. Just needed me to fuck those disrespectful thoughts out of your head, huh.” 

“Yes, yes, fuck yes! Need it so bad!” your wanton cries make his teeth clench while your toes point and curl. 

Everything in you burns molten, succumbing to Joel’s coarser treatment, his fingers, his lips, his cock knowing all your sensitive points and playing to them expertly. 

There’s no reprieve, no break in how soundly he fucks you, the bedframe creaking noisily from the movement, both of you sweaty and breathless but loathe to stop, so much desire washing over you at the frenzied passion in the eyes of the only man that could touch you like this. 

It was everything you had been daydreaming and craving, sobbing into your palm by the time Joel finally let you have what you wanted. 

You came hard, the pleasure drawn out for so long the climax of it shattered you, leaving you feeling soft and weightless against the mattress as he chases his own release, finding it swiftly after you. 

-

It’s much later that you’re tucked against him, a dreamy and well satisfied tilt to your lips as you sink into his touch, those deadly, brilliant hands of his caressing soft circles into your skin, against the places he knows he gripped with force tonight. 

He checks in with you now and then, making sure the comedown doesn’t hit you too hard, only soft words and praise for you now, a few sweet kisses left along your shoulder as you drift in and out of sleep together, exhausted and content beyond words. 

In the quiet of his room you giggle that you swear you’ll never be such a brat to him again but even you can’t deny that if this was what the consequences were, you just might have to talk back to him more often. 

Joel knows it too, gleaming eyes narrowing as he warns that your wicked little mouth is next in line for a lesson if you so dared. 

Oh..well maybe you’d be catching an attitude again much sooner than you thought. 

---

A/N: Eeep it is here! This one took me some time to write just cause I feel like I get in my head about writing Joel correctly a lot of the time and with this including rougher sex it was a little bit of a struggle to write at times but I like how it turned out in the end and I hope this was steamy and fun and hot and that it feels real to the character too! Thank you so much for reading!

Let me know what you think, pls thirst with me!

some tags, no pressure! @eupheme @wyn-n-tonic @ozarkthedog @moreofem @fagen @black-fairy3 @persona-enthusiast @fluffyprettykitty @earlgreychiffon @tarrenterror25 @federalchickensoup @jolly-polly @inklore @babiiface95 @targaryenvampireslayer @chezamanda @simplykenni @allaboardthereadingrailroad

[crownofgildedlilies]

christmas lights

pairing: kaminari x reader summary: Denki Kaminari should never be put in charge of making plans.  wc: 2.2k event masterlist

You should have known you were in trouble when Denki was the one who organized the group hangout. 

He had assured you everything was under control. All of your mutual friends—Mina, Kirishima, Sero, Bakugou, Jirou—had agreed to meet you both at a cafe in town just as the sun fell, then everyone would head over to the Christmas lights festival to enjoy the sights. 

Somehow, though, it just ended up being you and Denki. 

“Jirou just texted,” Denki waved his phone to emphasize his words. “She said she can’t make it, either. Something about her request to leave campus being denied?”

“Really?” Your face twisted in confusion. You hadn’t had any problems getting permission to leave, and neither had the others. “So no one else can come?”

Apparently, before you had even gotten to the cafe you were supposed to meet at, Mina and Kirishima both had separate family emergencies come up, Sero had gotten sick in the three hours it had been since you had talked to him last, and Bakugou had stopped answering his phone and was assumed to have fallen asleep. 

And Jirou was out, too. 

“Nope, weird, huh?” Denki laughed awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. The two of you were standing in line, waiting for your orders to go. The lights festival had already started, and you had really been looking forward to seeing all the bright decorations. 

“You still want to go, even if it’s just with me?” You asked hopefully. And maybe a little bashfully, too. How long has it been since you first started crushing on him? Somehow, his ridiculousness had won you over and you found him endearing instead of irritating. 

“Yeah, of course!” His smile was wide and genuine, and you couldn’t help but feel all sorts of mushy things in response to it. 

Mercifully, you were saved from having to respond without confessing your long harbored feelings for him by the sound of your orders being called out. Within a few minutes, you and Denki were out on the street, heading in the direction of the festival. 

The air was colder than it had been when you first left the dorms since the sun had set, and you had forgotten your scarf in your hurry to meet up with everyone—everyone resulting in being just Denki. 

Denki, who you were pretty sure was darting glances at you as you walked in silence. It was rare for him to be so quiet, so out of character that you couldn’t help but worry if something was wrong with him. 

“Are you good?” You hummed, shooting him a questioning look. At the same moment, you wrapped your arm around his, blaming the shiver that ran down your spine for why you needed to be so close to him and the flush in your cheeks on the chilled air. 

“Yeah, I am.” He smiled at you, and you fought the roll of your eyes in a defensive move. Instead, you dug your chin into the muscle of his shoulder to wordlessly reprimand him for the horrid offense of making you blush by simply smiling. He tilted his head to look at you better, but you watched as his attention snagged on something in the distance. “Woah, I see it!”

Sure enough, you glanced away from him and saw the Christmas lights in the distance. Red, green, white—warm and cool tones—drops of light in organized patterns or wrapped around trees. Twinkling, flashing, stagnant. 

Your eyes went wide the closer you got to the main part of the festival. Venders were stationed around the decorations, selling everything from t-shirts to sugar cookies to themed souvenir gifts. There was so much to take in, you involuntarily felt yourself clinging closer to the boy beside you. 

“Denks, it’s so pretty,” You breathed, and though you had been bummed before when you found out the rest of your friends hadn’t been able to make it, you realized you wouldn’t have wanted to miss the sights. 

And spending time alone with Denki was always a plus, even if it made you blush.

“Let’s look through the stalls. If you see any food that looks good I’ll pay for it.” Denki pulled you forward, and you shot him a curious look. 

“Since when do you offer to pay?” You teased, tugging him by his arm so that he slowed down and stayed pace with you. “Last time we all hung out, you begged Sero to pay for you.”

“I just forgot my wallet!” He defended, and the whine that left him had you tilting your head back with a laugh. 

“Whatever you say,” 

The rest of the festival passed with the two of you laughing and teasing. It felt like a normal hang out, even with most of the group missing, and you found yourself distantly thinking of more plans that you could make with just Denki. 

But after a while of looking at all the lights, he finally made good on getting you something to eat. There was a stand that sold handmade sugar cookies in various holiday shapes, and Denki dropped you off at a bench underneath a tree wrapped in colored lights so intricately, it looked as if the very leaves were made of light. 

While you waited for Denki to come back, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through social media. At first, nothing new popped up. After a while of scrolling, you decided to post a picture you made Denki take with you in front of a massive Santa Claus made entirely of lights, which then led to you clicking on Mina’s latest post. 

Her, Kirishima, and the so-called sick Sero all hanging out at the dorms, playing a card game. You were pretty certain you even saw a glimpse of Bakugou and Jirou in the back, and the sight left a bitter taste on your tongue. 

Did everyone make up excuses to bail on you?

“I’m back!” Denki called out in his usual energetic way, but you stood to meet him with a frown as you shoved your phone in his face to show him the post. 

“Look at this. How come Mina and Kirishima are hanging out right now if they both had family emergencies that kept them from joining us?” You pouted, absolutely feeling hurt that all your closest friends seemingly made up reasons to not spend time with you. You had been skeptical about Jirou not getting permission to leave campus, but you had planned to text Sero and ask if he needed any medicine while you were out, and Mina and Kirishima had apparently straight up lied. 

“Uh…” The color had drained from Denki’s face as he realized what was on the screen in front of him, as if he was at fault for everyone bailing on you. Still too annoyed, you missed his reaction and instead clicked your phone off, shoving it deep into your coat pocket. 

“Were they just pretending to be busy to ignore us?” You frowned, blowing out a puff of air in irritation. Your night had been going so well, you couldn’t help but be so disappointed in your friends’ actions. “That's so rude of them.”

“No! I doubt that.” Denki was nearly stumbling over his eyes, his face flush. With the hand that wasn’t holding the cookies he’d braved a long line for, he scratched the back of his neck and darted his attention all around the festival. “You know Kiri, he’d never!”

He was looking everywhere but at you, and that was entirely too suspicious for the man that hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you met up.

“Denki, you’re acting really weird.”

“Am I?” His voice came out in a squeak, and suddenly your annoyance turned into suspicion as you narrowed your eyes at him. For a pro hero in training, he was awful at covering his tells. 

“Yeah.” You accused. It was nothing but obvious he was hiding something. You hoped the disappointment you felt at him keeping secrets from you, too, was evident on your face. Your night was one wrong comment away from being ruined. 

“Okay! I admit it!” Denki cracked far faster than you thought it would, and he tipped his head back so he could look at the sky instead of you as he confessed what he knew. “I told them we had to bail on the plans for tonight so they wouldn’t come!”

“What? Why?” You could say with honesty that that hadn’t been what you thought he would say. 

“Because I might have wanted to hang out with you alone but I was too scared to tell you that so, surprise!” He was rushing through his words, so fast you barely could keep up. 

“Slow down.” You ordered, voice softer than it had been only previously. With your shoulders losing some of their tension, you took a tentative step towards him so that you were nearly toe to toe. “You wanted to hang out with me, alone?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, wincing. 

“And you didn’t want to tell me that?”

“Uh huh,” Another nod, and it was hard to keep your expression neutral. 

“So you lied to me and all of our friends to trick me into hanging out with you?”

“When you put it like that…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You huffed, crossing your arms. You were really struggling with hiding your grin, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to mess with him after he had apparently conned the entire friend group so he could spend time with you. 

“Huh?” He looked as if he had gone over his wattage, confused by what you had said and not quite sure you had meant it. Rolling your eyes, you stepped even closer so that your crossed arms were pressed against the toned muscle of his chest. 

“I’m not repeating myself until you actually ask me on a date.” You challenged, finally letting the traces of your amusement show through the cracks of your annoyed facade. He was just so adorable you couldn’t hold onto any of your anger. “You can’t just trick me into one.” 

“You wanna make this a date?” Denki asked, voice dripping in disbelief. 

“Close enough,” You muttered to yourself, setting one hand on the back of his neck and tugging him down so that his lips pressed against yours in a long awaited kiss. You could taste the hot chocolate he had drank on your walk to the festival, could feel him relax into the kiss when he processed what was happening. 

His hands found a place on your waist, giving an experimental tug to pull you closer. Remembering you were in public and not wanting to be a PDA couple—not that you figured Denki would mind much—you savored the kiss for a few short seconds before pulling back to smirk up at him. 

“Man, I should have just done that from the start,” Clearly, he had thought he had blown it from the moment you found out about his ruse. He was a little breathless, and somehow knowing he was just as affected as you made you giddy. 

“You think?” You grinned, teasing, enjoying the way your lips stung from both the cold and the absence of him. Needing to feel him close again, you set your chilled hands on his rosy cheeks, squishing them together only slightly. “Next time, you should really just ask me.”

“Next time, huh?” He smirked, the effect lost by your touch on his face and sounding entirely too smug for someone who had accidentally stumbled into a first date. “My plan worked then?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Rolling your eyes, you darted forward to give him another short kiss. “I’m pretty sure anyone else would have left you here the minute they found out you tried tricking them into a date.”

“I was going to ask!” He pouted, turning to the side in an oh so incredibly guilty way. The movement jostled your hands, so you dropped them to his shoulders, needing to feel him beneath your palms and confirm that it was all very real. “Eventually.”

“I’m planning the next date,” You settled, and the megawatt smile that flashed on Denki’s face drove away any chill encroaching on your soul. You forced yourself to step back slightly, but made up for the distance between the two of you by threading your fingers in his and tugging your conjoined hands into the pocket of your jacket. “Now c’mon, I want to see the rest of the lights.”

“Whatever you want,” Denki grinned, easily placated. Though, you were certain that you could get him to agree to whatever you wanted at the move, just only with the promise of a second date. Smirking up at him, you gave a wicked look he should know only meant trouble.

“I’m so telling everyone what you did as soon as we get back to the dorms.” 

“Aw, come on! They’ll never let me forget it!” 

You only laughed, but you couldn’t help but think that you would never forget it, either. 

Not with how pretty he looked under all the Christmas lights. 

[anniebeckcalla]

𒀭࣪⋆ :completely: [mark lee x reader]

non- idol au. wc:1000 cw:self-h@rm, mental health issues, body dysphoria, fluff, slight skinship, slight angst. mental breakdown

calla's note: if you know that you might get triggered by sh, please don't read this story. it's okay, it doesn't make you any less brave or cool to skip this story.

You glared at yourself in the mirror, your image becoming more and more blurry as tears blocked your view. As you blinked them away, the water smudging your makeup, you hated yourself for allowing yourself to believe that you could ever look good in the strapless dress that your boyfriend, Mark, had bought for you.

Everywhere-your arms, shoulders, and clavicles- were crisscrossed with scars. They made you look like a wild animal had been let all over you; angry, red, and relentless.

“Cutter,” your ex had remarked in the past. To him, it was unattractive to bear the unforgiving marks of self-mutilation.

“Poser,” a friend had laughed when you'd accidentally shown them to her (whatever that meant.)

You bad been together with Mark for two months. With Mark, you felt like you could be yourself. You didn't need to pretend to lead a perfect life, nor be happy 100% of the time. He made you laugh, made you smile, made you forget about everything else apart from you and him. Although you hadn't yet said it to his face, you were convinced that you were in love with him.

However…

…you had never shown him your cuts.

You didn't want to imagine the look of horror on his face when he realised that he was going out with a madwoman. You didn't want to make him feel like it was his fault for your unsteady mental health. You didn't want him to leave you after discovering that you didn't truly love yourself yet.

For that reason, you had always covered your body with long jumpers and shirts, insisting that you were fine even when it was boiling hot. For that reason, you had tried hard not to show how unhappy you were when Mark presented you the strapless dress “as something to wear for our date.” You had hugged him, thanking him for being so thoughtful, and he had kissed you in response, glad that he had been able to help.

With Mark waiting for you downstairs, you had reluctantly changed out of your hoodie and long sleeved top and pulled the dress over your head, hoping that somehow, your latticed arms wouldn't look too bad. But here they looked, worse than ever, a multicoloured array of scarlet, pink, brown, and white lines in every place that the eyes could see.

You were soiled. Worthless. Disgusting.

Your body shook with sobs as the tears flowed freely down your face. You knew that Mark was going to find out, and he was going to leave you, and you were going to be alone forever and ever.

Tap-tap!

Mark's voice came through the door. “Hey, y/n. I don't want to rush you, but you've been a bit of a while in there. I hope you're okay. Um- I'm coming in, so I hope you're decent…”

You crossed your arms over your chest as if doing so would make the scars disappear. “NO!” you mouthed silently. But it was too late. Mark came around the door, ever dapper in a smart casual affair. He was smiling, but then he stopped when he saw your streaming face. Then his eyes went down to your arms, and he stopped completely, still as a stone.

“That's right,” you hiccuped. “Laugh at me. Despise me. Hate me for who I am. I'm sorry that I look like this, and I wish I could change, but I can't.”

Mark walked up to you and gently took your hand in his. “Why are you ashamed?” he asked softly. “Why would you hide this away from me?”

His other hand hovered over one of your arms, but then he glanced up at you. “May I?” he questioned. You shrugged in response. To be honest, you didn't didn't understand what was going on. Whether Mark was being kind to you, or whether this was his rejection ritual. You decided that you'd let everything play out.

Mark ran his finger down the raised scars, brows furrowed with concern. He looked up at you. “You see these, y/n?” he said. “These are what they call battle scars. They're a proof of the mental turmoil that's going on inside your head, You should never, never feel bad for having these scars.” He drew you into a hug, and the action made you cry again, weeping into his shoulder and making his suit damp. “I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that you can't express yourself freely, darling,” he uttered. “I don't care what issues you have, I don't mind what you've been through or what you have on your body. I'm going to love you completely.”

Had he just said…-?

Mark pulled away suddenly. “Okay, babe, I was going to say this tonight at our date, but I might as well say it now. I love you. I always have, since we met, and I always will.” You weren't sure if you could believe what you were hearing. “Even with my cuts?” Mark pulled you into another embrace, kissing you gently on the cheek. “Even with your cuts, y/n. I know that one day you'll be able to open up to me, but we're going to take things one step at a time.” He pulled at your dress as you broke away. “You don't have to wear this, you know, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You looked down at your dress. Now that you were recovering from your breakdown, you realised that you liked the way that the dress hugged your figure, the way that the colour complimented your hair and skin. Mark really did have a good sense of style. Besides, what was wrong with your cuts? Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, and you decided that you'd give your marks some love, even if only for tonight.

“It's okay. I'll wear this one.”

“Oh, great.” Mark tried to hide his smile, but you could tell that he was very excited at this small achievement.

So were you.

[atlabeth]

you’re beautiful — anthony lockwood

summary: a meeting goes wrong, feelings come out. you’d like to be sedated again, please.

a/n: so this started as part of “leave the door open” but then i decided i wanted something different (hence the wound dressing scene) but i really liked what i wrote there so here’s an entirely different fic! wow enjoy

wc: 2.5k

warning(s): reader gets stabbed, quite a bit of blood, couple death jokes, mention of not eating, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending tho

There was a saying in Lockwood & Company, courtesy of its namesake, that, if you had enough confidence, you could dazzle any ghost into submission. 

Nothing but facetiousness of course, but it was true in a symbolic sort of way. If you didn’t believe in yourself, in every slash of your rapier and every circle of filings and every salt bomb measured to perfection, then there was no use showing up at all. You might as well sit down and wait for the ghost-lock to set in. 

Lockwood’s words kept coming back to you every time you doubted yourself, his charming smile and eyes popping up in your mind, twinkling as he made you laugh. 

And those words were certainly echoing through your ears as you stumbled through Portland Row’s door, a hand still pressed to your abdomen when you collapsed. Your rapier, still holstered, clattered against the floor.  

George called your name from the kitchen, cheerfully oblivious to your joy. “You’re finally back! How did the meeting go?” 

When you could only groan in response, he emerged into the hallway and his eyes instantly widened. “Oh my god— Lockwood!” 

He rushed over and helped you up, propping you against the wall as his eyes darted all over. He took one hand away to push up his glasses, and you noticed he already had some blood on your fingers. “What in the world happened?” 

“The meeting didn’t go well,” you grit out, sucking in a breath as a sharp column of pain shot through you. 

“I could gather that,” George said wryly, and when you heard footsteps, you both looked up to see Lockwood taking the steps three at a time. 

“What in the world happened?” he asked brazenly, a wild look in his eyes. 

“That’s what I asked—” George said, and your breathy laugh was interrupted by a grimace. 

“The meeting didn’t go well,” you repeated. 

“I need actual details,” Lockwood called as he went off in search of the medical kit. 

“Everything was fine,” you grumbled. “But as it turns out, our lovely source Mr. Pallworth was more skilled in getting into trouble than actually being an informant. He was in debt to some even lovelier relic men.” 

“Oh, god,” George muttered. You winced as he put more pressure on your wound, having taken over for you. “I’m sorry, but this is so you don’t bleed out.” 

“Did you get into a fight or something?” Lockwood marveled, bounding back over with a white box in his hands. “Because it looks like you were stabbed.” 

“One point for Anthony,” you said groggily. “Mr. Pallworth ran off the moment he could, leaving me to deal with his mess. I was indeed stabbed. Only once, somehow. The relic men deserted when the police showed up, and I wasn’t far behind.”

Lockwood knelt down next to you, and he looked at you for permission. You nodded, and he pulled your shirt up to expose your wound. He did a good job hiding his grimace as he began to gently wipe away the blood, but it was still there. “Why did you come here and not immediately to the hospital?” 

“I don’t know if you remember, Lockwood,” you breathed, “but this job that we’re doing is not exactly legal.” 

“I don’t care,” he enunciated. “This is above our paygrade, and your life will not be on the line because of our lack of medical knowledge.” 

“We either have to help her here or get her to a hospital,” George said, “because if we sit here bickering, she’ll bleed out before we make a decision.” 

“I’d rather die here than a hospital,” you said.

“You’re not going to die here,” Lockwood said harshly, and his hands opened and closed into fists. You could almost see the gears turning in his head. He eventually let out an annoyed sigh and glanced at George. 

“Phone 999,” he said. “She’s not dying because of her stubbornness.”

George nodded, grimacing at the blood on his hands—your blood, you supposed, which made it worse—and he ran off. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have sent you there alone,” Lockwood grumbled as he started taking things out of the medical kit. 

“No, you didn’t,” you said. “We had no reason to believe anything like this would happen.”

“Well— I should have known!” Lockwood’s voice rose, and his jaw clenched as he got himself back under control. He continued to clean out your wound, and you could hear George rattling off information in the distance to the authorities. 

“You’re cute when you’re determined,” you said. 

“I am determined to not let you die in our foyer,” Lockwood said.

“The foyer.” You mimicked Lockwood’s voice. “So posh.”

“If she’s being this annoying, she can’t be doing too bad,” George said dryly. 

“Loopy from the blood loss,” you said offhandedly. You frowned as it sunk in. “Maybe I should go to a hospital.”

Lockwood heaved a very dramatic sigh as he continued to keep pressure on your wound. “At least you’re coming to your senses now,” he said dryly. He was still kneeling next to you, his hands covered in your blood, that wild look in his eye. “What the hell took so long?”

“I’m not…” you blinked the black spots out of your vision, “good with hospitals.”

“Well, I’m not good with you dying,” Lockwood said.

George came back over. “I’ve called the police—an ambulance is on the way.”

You groaned, half from the pain and half from the thought of the police. “We’re going to have so much explaining to do.”

“Leave that to us,” Lockwood said. For some reason, you found yourself grabbing his hand. He didn’t hesitate, his throat bobbing as he laced your fingers together. “Just hold on for a bit longer.”

You nodded, your mouth going dry for a moment when you looked at him— really looked at him. 

There was unbridled fear in Lockwood’s eyes, the slightest glimmer of tears. If you weren’t slowly bleeding out, if the black spots weren’t taking over your vision, if your grip on his hand wasn’t loosening, you might have been embarrassed at his closeness, at his doting.  

But apparently, you weren’t. 

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured. 

And then everything went dark.

-

You were assaulted by a barrage of lights and beeping, too-bright fluorescents and the sterile scent of disinfectant alerting even your still groggy mind that you were in a hospital.

There was something in your arm—multiple somethings, actually. A tube with a lot of red in one arm, and another with clear liquid in your other arm. Blood and an IV, you guessed. 

Right. You were stabbed, and one does not just walk away from a stab wound without a few problems. 

You weren’t dead, though, and that surely counted for something. You would have to thank Lockwood later, for his stubbornness beating out your own. 

“You’re awake,” a voice breathed, and you realized it was just the boy you were thinking about. 

Lockwood sat next to you in a chair pulled up at your bedside. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck, and he’d draped his jacket on the back of the chair. His eyes were slightly red, but there was undeniable relief sketched into his face. 

“I am.” Your voice was raspy from disuse, and you grimaced at the soreness in your lower chest. “How long has it been?” 

“A few hours,” he answered. He cleared his throat and moved to the edge of his chair, and your eyes followed the movement. He was holding your hand— he’d been holding your hand. “You— um, you had surgery. A small one, it didn’t take too long, but—” Lockwood’s voice broke, and he laughed mirthlessly as he shook his head. “It was scary. Terrifying, actually, but…” he managed a smile. “You came out the other side. You always do.” 

Your breath caught for a moment, and your grip on his hand tightened subconsciously. “I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” Lockwood asked wryly. “It’s not your fault you were stabbed. You did a rather excellent job fighting them off, actually. It could’ve been much worse.” 

“I’m sorry for putting you and George through this,” you murmured. “I worry about the two of you every second of every day, and most of the time it doesn’t come to fruition. This—” you laughed, which immediately turned into a wince— “I’d say this is fruition.” 

“I’m just glad we got you here in time,” Lockwood muttered. He looked at you, his eyes boring into you with equal parts concern and desperation. You used to hate that about him, especially when you joined, how it always felt like he could look at you and know every single thing. “You said the police showed up in the fight. You were obviously injured— why didn’t you get them to call an ambulance? Why did you risk it all to come back to Portland Row?” 

“I told you. The job we took on was illegal, and I felt it was going to be a much bigger mess than we needed to deal with.” 

“I don’t care how illegal it was,” Lockwood said stiffly. “You were hurt— you were in danger. That comes before anything else, alright? You come before anything else.” 

The intensity of his voice made you pause, unable to do anything but… look at him. His hair was tousled, no doubt from running his hand through it endlessly as he was wont to do whenever he was stressed. His undone tie and discarded jacket, his eyes, red from… from crying, most likely. He cried over you. 

When your hand tightened around his this time, you did it on purpose. 

“Thank you,” you murmured. “You’re probably the reason I’m alive.” 

Lockwood managed to crack a smile. “It wouldn’t look good for the agency if my employees started dying. I don’t have very many to lose.” 

That got a genuine laugh out of you, and you tried your best to ignore the subsequent wince. “Of course. That’s why I pulled through, to make us look better.” 

“Your efforts are much appreciated,” he said, that small smile still on his lips as he rubbed mindless circles on your hand with his thumb. 

The door creaked slightly as someone pushed it open, and a smile broke out on your face when you saw it was George. 

“I was wondering where you were,” you said. 

“Tea,” he said, lifting the drink holder with one hand and a box with his other, “and donuts.” He looked at Lockwood pointedly. “You’ve got to get something in you. It’s not exactly healthy, but the sugar will help.” 

You looked at Lockwood. “You haven’t eaten?” 

“I was preoccupied,” he said dryly. 

“That’s no excuse,” you said. “Eat your donuts, and as soon as we get home, George is cooking you something.” You looked up at him. “Right?” 

“Right,” George agreed. He handed Lockwood one of the cups and set the box on the table, and he smiled as he took a seat across from you. “You look much better. You’re bossing everyone around again—I take it you’re doing better too?” 

“Much,” you nodded. “Thanks for getting me here, by the way. I’d probably have bled out if it weren’t for you.” 

“Of course.” George took a donut from the box. “I can’t let you leave me alone with him.” 

“Oh, I would never,” you said wryly. 

“I’m surprised you’re willing to be alone with him after what you said,” George said offhandedly, and both you and Lockwood stared at him. 

“George—” he started. 

“What do you mean?” you interrupted. 

He made that funny little expression where he knew he said something he probably shouldn’t have, and he busied himself with his donut. “Nothing.” 

“George,” you deadpanned, “I’m the one in the hospital bed. I have pity points. Tell me.” 

Lockwood sighed and leaned back in his chair, though you noticed he still didn’t let go of your hand. 

“I’m guessing you don’t remember what you said,” George said slowly. “Before you blacked out, I mean.” 

“No.” Your eyes darted between the two of them. “Why? Did I say something awful?” 

“Not awful,” Lockwood said, still looking away. “Pretty far from it, I’d say.” 

“Why are you two acting so weird?” you asked. “Spit it out!” 

“You called Lockwood beautiful,” George finally said, and you just about died right there. “Right before you went out, you said he was beautiful.” 

You blinked. Looked at Lockwood, who didn’t seem to be the slightest bit embarrassed—god, was he smiling?—looked at George, who was this time busying himself with his tea. 

“You’re kidding,” you said. 

“...He’s not,” Lockwood said, tilting his head to the side. “You did do that.” 

“Looked up at him, said ‘you’re beautiful’, passed out.” George shrugged as he took another sip of his tea. “Quite dramatic, I’ll give you that. It drove Lockwood absolutely insane, too.” 

“George,” Lockwood said sharply, “don’t you have a phone call to make?” 

He chuckled. “Yeah. How could I forget?”

You weren’t even able to watch him as he walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Lockwood. You wanted to melt into the bed. This was the absolute worst way for your feelings to come out, feelings that you were content to let sit forever and never really reveal. Apparently, you couldn’t even almost die with dignity. 

“It’s alright,” Lockwood said. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

“No, I do have to be embarrassed.” You stared up at the ceiling. “I do have to be embarrassed, because my last words could have been ‘you’re beautiful’.”

“Why?” he asked. “Do you not think I’m beautiful?” 

You groaned, and if you hadn’t been practically immobile, you would have buried your face in the pillows. “Get a nurse to sedate me again, please.” 

Lockwood flashed that irritatingly pretty grin as he took your hand again. You hadn’t even realized he’d let go. “Relax. I think you’re beautiful too.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Even now?”

“Even now,” Lockwood said. “Always.”

“At least you’re not saying it half-conscious and dying,” you mumbled. 

“I think it’s better I’m saying it now,” he said. “You know I mean it.” 

You looked him in the eye. “You really do?” 

“What did I just say?” Lockwood chuckled. “Always. Forever.” 

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks. “I can’t believe this is what it took to get you to admit your feelings.” 

“It took this for you to admit your feelings,” he countered. “It took you admitting them for me to admit them. I never really knew you felt the same way.” 

“I guess I have a flair for dramatics,” you said wryly. 

“It seems so,” Lockwood said. “How about after all this is done, when you’re good and cleared by the doctor, I’ll take you out for tea. My treat.”  

“You pay my salary,” you said. “Everything is practically your treat.” 

Lockwood grinned. “Do you want to go on a date with me or not?” 

You smiled, and you pulled your joined hands closer. You pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I’d like that a lot.” 

“Excellent.” He smiled as well, a breath of relief coming out of him, and he leaned closer. “Just remember that you don’t have to get stabbed to get me to ask you out on a second date.”  

[aeolianblues]

I saw this company that sells like Bluetooth vibrating air drums or whatever you want to call them, and it’s so obvious what their purpose is that it makes me really sad. We went from drum kits to those black/deadened practice kits for practising at home, to eventually having people in rented accommodation being so worried about noise complaints and/or losing their place of living that they’ve had to create drum-less drums. 100% the reason for this is not wanting to get evicted. Living in matchbox houses with paper thin walls of cheap and in-no-way soundproof material, packed so close you’re a stone’s throw from your neighbours, you’ve silenced the drumkit entirely.

Is it any surprise then that people aren’t forming bands? Is it a surprise that artists moved from bands rehearsing in basements and garages in houses, to samples, electronic drumkits, midi, solo ‘bedroom’ stuff, even as we lose more and more rehearsal spaces, and schools stop offering kids musical lessons because they must be inferior to subjects that lead to a job in IT or finance? We lose youth centres, community spaces, musical spaces, and everyone’s world gets a little quieter.

Gentrification. People move into the ‘fun’ parts of town and then file complaints against all the ‘fun’ stuff. Bye bye La Tulipe, they gave a developer a building permit in the fucking downtown culture and entertainment district and now the residents are filing complaints. City councils are so afraid of the word 'rave', they don't know what it means but they think it means 'illicit drugs-taking event' and want to ban any instance of it. The raves move out of the city, to a little space under the national highway, or leave the city entirely.

I wanted to take a walking tour of historically important music sites in London, such as important venues, clubs, studios, the Blitz where the New Romantic kids first congregated for their David Bowie nights, the café where all the musicians including the Beatles would go down to to meet people when they decided the only way to make it in the music industry was to move to London. 3/4 of that tour involved looking for ghosts: empty spaces, corporate offices and residence buildings sitting on the burial grounds of moments of cultural significance. I didn’t do the tour, I don’t think I could bear to look at these places, to try and imagine what they once were and what their neighbours were.

It’s the same with these drums too. I know the makers only want to do good, bless them for that, and I don’t doubt a lot of people will find this a better practice solution than midi because it still sort of has that unquantised feel of a real person hitting sticks— although I suppose if you really think about it, it still is just a midi controller but with a vibrating haptic response. Next you’ll say drums can be done on AR or VR I suppose. It will still make me sad.

It saddens me that we lose so much of the spirit of art and culture to dilution. People trying to make the music quieter so as to not offend the neighbours, even as their spaces get slowly choked out. Writers being unable (/less freely able) to explore darker themes so as to not set the dogs of the ‘problematic writing police’ on them. Artists presenting as less dramatic so as to not appear ‘weird’ to an uninvested audience; TikTok’s obsession with their straitjacketed definition of ‘authenticity’. Making fun of anyone who dares to dress weird, look different, say something new. I see it everywhere. Art gets diluted to become palatable, and in doing so it loses its ability to express itself and say something that needs to be said.

I don’t know. Some could look at it as the weird, twisted, fucked up plant growing through cracks in the pavement, doing what it can to reach the sunlight. Art surviving despite everything, somehow being more poignant and having more important things to say as a result.

But even a 22h candle has an end. We’ve got to do more to protect our artistic spaces and outlets, and the ability to create without fear, or ae risk losing it forever. It takes just one generation to train out habits; we see it with other obsolete things, let’s not let art be one of those.