#these are some of my most shameful memories and they sound straight from some kind of drama (according to my irl best friend)

[unionizedwizard]

the fact i am 90% sure the guy i had a psychosexually charged rivalry slash toxic friends to enemies to lovers to enemies in middle school is either 1) gay or 2) transfem now...............................

[prettyboykatsuki]

I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in  when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up.  The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

__

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn’t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

__

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks.  Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -“ Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

__

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while,  but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?”  You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

 These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

 He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

Oh.

__

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

 Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

__

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s  your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

__

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

__

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

__

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad  he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

__

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

__

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾

[siddyyyyyyyy]

HI POOKIE

can i request a fic with jason and reader who is supergirl (clark’s daughter) and just then navigating their relationship

i need jason todd in my room at 1 am

Old Friends

Jason Todd x Supergirl!Reader

wc: 2.4 K summary: You meet Jason again after not seeing each other for several years. warnings: fluff? no y/n used a/n: sorry for the long wait, this came out a little longer than usual. I think they would be too shy to admit anything to each other, but they would be cute dou. enjoy!!!

When Jason first met Superman, he didn‘t expect to see another girl his age right beside the man of steel. He was immediately awestruck, realising that you are his daughter, and got straight up flustered when your eyes met briefly.

The younger boy, back then all chirpy and small, really tried his best to impress you in any way possible.

You can pick up a couch without a sweat? He can pick up two… then have his arms hurt for the next few days.

You like frogs? He will fetch and pick up any kinds of frogs he can find and give them to you. Batman definitely scolds him for getting his suit dirty, but Jason couldn‘t care less. You were happy about the things he did, and you both soon grew into a good team on missions. Although those missions didn‘t occur often, you both tried to make the most of it. Playing catch with each other during breaks, drawing together silly things during briefings and exchanging notes, and whispering a small gossip session with the other while no one pays attention to you.

It was all fun and easy with him. Until you couldn‘t go on missions anymore because you had to work on other things, but you promised to get the next one with him as soon as possible. That stretched and stretched for months until it got into years of no missions together.

You are well in your teens now, almost an adult, and you haven‘t heard from Jason at all. It‘s sad and shameful to admit, but you almost forgot the way he looks.

Many years have gone by, being in a new suit and being taller having generally changed over the years. You are an adult now, actually in your twenties, and you are more than excited to see what changed for Jason as well. Since you lived in Metropolis all the time, you didn‘t bother to check what happened with the Bats, assuming everything probably is pretty much the same. Since you are still Supergirl and work together with Superman almost all the time, you are assuming it‘s probably the same with them.

Now that you are flying back to Gotham with your dad, there‘s a lot of thoughts swimming in your head. What if he can‘t even remember you? Is there something Calrk hasn‘t told you yet, and this is actually a bad surprise of his? What if something is incredibly wrong and something bad happened? Is this just another stupid mission?

Coming back to that musty city was nostalgic. With a heavy sigh you‘ve been holding in for, you finally land on the ground.

»You okay? Something bothering you?«

Clark steps beside you and rests his hand on your shoulder, a reassuring weight.

»Why are we here? Like, actually.«

Your dad purses his lips together. You feel the air shift around you, making you even more suspicious.

»We‘re visiting Uncle Batman, remember?«

»Yeah, but why? Did something happen?«

Clark starts walking, and you follow.

»No, nothing really happened. At least nothing that we have to take care of. Just visiting a friend.«

Great, that sounds even more suspicious. After another sigh of yours, you just silently follow him and wait for whatever surprise will get you today.

Even seeing the Wayne Manor feels nostalgic to you. Just looking and approaching the big house is awaking memories in your brain— how you used to chase Jason in the cave and accidentally knock over some vase. Are there still random and useless things in the cave, or did they finally get rid of them?

As usual, you sneaked into the entrance with your dad and managed to get past Alfred without getting caught. Well, at least it seemed like he didn‘t notice you both, but there‘s also a chance he did.

But stepping inside the cave again after so many years felt almost illegal. Sure, it felt welcoming too, but… it feels way more emtpy now. Probably because Batman isn‘t in here yet.

Speaking of the bat, he enters just moments later, seemingly out of nowhere. Superman greets him almost immediately with his usual bright smile, approaching him with a few strides. Just like the earlier days, Batman doesn‘t respond as much and simply gets straight to business.

»Why are you here, Superman? And why is your daughter her as well?«

Wow, it didn‘t even seem like he noticed you in the first place… are you getting impressed by Batman again?

»Oh, just visiting. You know, as good friends do?«

»We are friends?« Batman counters, earning a hearty chuckle from Superman after realising it was indeed just a sarcastic remark. That simple remark feels reassuring, though, almost comforting with how familiar it feels like. It was like a small sign that everything is okay, after all. Just why did Clark need to act so suspicious in the first place?

You didn‘t even notice someone else coming into the cave, being too busy looking around the artefacts that mostly seem to be the same as in the past.

»And you are the daughter of Superman?«

You turn your attention away from the cars in the garage and look at the person that spoke up. Huh… you expected someone else. Instead, there stands Robin.

Robin. In small. Right in front of you. And… he is grumpy?

Is this why you are here? Jason is stuck in his ten-year-old body?

»Oh… yeah, I am.«

Confusion is written all over your face, and you glance back to your dads. Just what is happening here…

»Father told me you used to work together with Jason.«

Silence falls over the two of you. The way this boy talks doesn‘t fit Jason at all. And it‘s clear that this isn‘t Jason.

»Sorry… who are you?«

You finally address the big elephant in the room, still being clueless and confused about the situation.

But so does Robin. He even looks taken aback by the fact that you don‘t know him. Another brief of silence falls over you two before you both call for your dads at the same time.

»Father!«

»Dad!«

Robin‘s glaring at you, and he is glaring at you at the same time. Batman and Superman look over you both, not having noticed any of your exchange before.

It turns out this Robin is actually Damian. He was upset when his father just revealed his identity like that, but it was necessary for you to understand the situation. Shortly after, you also found out about Tim. The Robin after Jason.

So, that leaves for the question: Where is Jason? Is he even still Robin? Why did he retire?

But you don‘t risk asking about that, not wanting to make the situation even more confusing or awkward. Also because you‘ve always been a little scared to ask Batman questions or generally talk to him about more personal stuff.

Eventually, after discussing some more things, it turns out you are here to help them out on a mission. It starts tonight and you are back on track again. Just focusing on the current task and processing the information you get for it.

Arriving at the scene as talked about, you see Batman defeating some of the goons, and that is your call to join him. Superman is also doing the same thing, all the while Damian is getting more information from the bad guys. It‘s all going well as usual, until a bigger threat appears. It knocks you off, making you land some feet away. Turns out, a bigger Villian just arrived and decided to join in on the chaos that‘s already happening.

Due to the fall, it‘s difficult to breathe for a few seconds before you regain yourself and get back on your feet. Charging at the Villian, you put all your anger out on him, beating that random guy in all his weak spots.

You don‘t notice the sound of an engine approaching the scene, too busy handling the bigger guy at the moment.

With a few final punches, he looks like he is about to release his last breath, and that‘s when you decide it‘s enough. Releasing your grip on him, you take a step away and catch your breath.

»Man, I really wanted to handle him. You just stole my job.«

A deeper, distorted voice sounds from behind you, making you turn around quickly. The bigger man just stands there, his red helmet stricking out like nothing else. His shining slits stare right at you, almost making you step back away from him.

Even when he looks rather intimidating, he won‘t make a move on you. And no one even fights him.

»Well, your fault for arriving late.«

You retort back with a small shrug, trying to handle the surprise with some sarcasm. It works, at least you think so. He doesn‘t say anything, only making a quieter huff sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle.

»My bike is pretty fast; I don‘t know what you are talking about.«

He shrugs as well and approaches you now. For your luck, Superman also arrives by your side at the same time, feeling rather tense for some reason.

Batman eventually appears beside the strange man too, with Damian standing behind a few steps. It‘s quiet for a few seconds before Batman updates everyone on the status of the goons and operation, glad to hear it all went successful. Superman is reluctant to leave your side but is forced to eventually, having to discuss some more things with Batman in private.

For whatever reason, that Red Helmet is still standing on the same spot and stares at you.

»And, how should I call you?« Finally, you speak up and want to hear some answers, still having no clue why he is here.

»Red Hood.«

You nod in response, letting that sink in. His short answer didn‘t leave you satisfied though, but you are also slightly unsure of what you should even ask in the first place.

»So, Supergirl, huh? What made you come to Gotham again?«

The distorted voice won‘t give away any emotions, but you swear there is a hint of bitterness.

Finally, before you could answer him, the two older men arrive back to the both of you and seem less tense than before. You feel less awkward now that your dad is by your side again, being still curious about Red Hood, though.

A few more things are briefly discussed before Batman turns to Red Hood, speaking up more casually.

»Are you joining on family dinner this Sunday? Alfred‘s making his chocolate lava cakes.«

Once this question drops, your eyes almost pop out of your skull. Family dinner? Who is this guy? Are they just inviting random people to their manor these days?

Red Hood seems tense, staying quiet for a moment before he eventually answers.

»Just because Alfres makes lava cakes.«

He grumbles back more quietly, making Batman almost smirk.

You turn your attention to Clark beside you, silently begging for answers. He notices your helpless look and becomes sheepish.

»Oh! Uh… Jason is Red Hood. Forgot to tell you.« He whispers to you with a small smile, waiting for you to react. You pause, however, before you finally become more flabbergasted. It doesn‘t make sense at all.

Dinner at the manor was more chaotic than it used to be. With the added family members, it just seemed like a big family that secretly hates each other. The constant talking and insults between the boys are not lost on the both of you. In contrast to them, you just sit quietly together with your dad, watching the chaos erupt between the seven other bats. Besides Barabara and Cassandra, the rest seems to be pretty lively.

One thing you can‘t ignore is the way Jason‘s eyes seem to burn into you the whole time. He can‘t stop staring and looking at you with those intense eyes of his. You tried not to glance his way too much, but you did anyway. You noticed the green hint in his blue eyes. Something you never noticed before. Something else you noticed too is the way he became way more quiet. It‘s not the way it used to be. You really miss the small gossip sessions and exchanges of notes with him.

The dinner is served by Alfred, and you thank him like the rest, starting to eat peacefully. As if on command, the table also becomes way more quiet once everyone has their food and starts eating. You thought you would feel relieved about the silence, but now it almost seems awkward and strange that it‘s quiet.

»Stop breathing so loud, Drake.«

»I‘m not even sitting beside you!«

»Then why can I hear your breathing from up here?«

Damian seems to enjoy making Tim upset. That‘s one of the things you took note of. Also the visible tension between Tim and Jason. At least they don‘t insult each other, only catching glares aimed at Tim from your old friend.

Dick seems to be happy to be here. Especially since you and Superman are there too. You know that the first Robin and your father worked some times as well, having talked and played with him when you didn‘t have your powers yet. He felt like a big brother for you, having played Barbie with him and also getting to have piggyback rides.

He eventually talks with your dad for most of the time, sharing a few smiles with you over the table. Bruce eventually joins in the dinner, not even trying to control the chaos but does give out warnings whenever one of them insults the other verbally.

Finally, after getting the overly delicious dessert, you can have some time to talk before you leave the manor.

As you stand in the hallway with your dad, who is currently still talking to Bruce, you decide to find Jason and talk. You find him beefing with Tim, but they quickly stop as soon as you step into view.

Tim walks away with a knowing smirk, telling him silently that he won this argument. Whatever it was, Jason is glaring daggers at him before he finally turns to you.

You both speak up at the same time, growing sheepish, and he gestures for you to speak first. You suggest exchanging numbers, which works better than you thought. After that‘s done, you finally get to ask your questions.

He doesn‘t really answer the more personal questions as casually as the others, but he tries. Turns out, Jason is still the sweet boy from the past. Whatever he had to go through really affected him, and you don‘t pry on it, figuring it will come with time.

Saying goodbye again is way more painful. You don‘t know when you will meet again, so you make a pinky promise to meet again on a Sunday.

←MASTERLIST

[always-andromeda]

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1182

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ Once upon a time, Joel Miller was the love of your life. Life, however, got in the way.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ I got to write this piece for @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge. This song is one of my favorites off of Folklore and so I was immediately inspired by the prompt!! I highly recommend taking a look at the rest of the challenge masterlist too and sending the other creators on there some love!! Gorgeous divider by @saradika-graphics!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact), nipple play, fingering, pet names, reader has no physical description aside from being afab and able-bodied, spans from pre-outbreak to post-outbreak, mentions of guns, bits and pieces of angst, let me know if I need to add anything else!

Your youth was defined by Joel Miller. All of those delicate parts of yourself that you pretended not to see…he stared straight into the eye of the storm and protected the fragility within it. The most important thing about Joel: he was patient. To an almost frustrating degree.

He taught you how to drive with the stick shift in his beat up pickup truck. Afterwards, he showed you how to kiss properly. His hand cupping the back of your neck, he gazed at you through his lashes and asked if it was okay to kiss you. His voice smooth like molasses, you had no choice but to nod before immediately pressing your lips to his.

Even back then, Joel was a working man. His hands were rough with calluses, his mouth was filthy, and he put them both to good use. As he laid you across the bench seat of his truck, somewhere deep in your belly, you believed you could trust him. 

You supposed it was exciting for him, showing you how things were done. How a man could really use his hands to tell a woman exactly how he felt. The best Joel’s words could do came in the form of his sweet pet names.

Darlin’. Pretty girl. Baby. Honey.

Each of them wrapped up in his velvety tone and delivered specially for you. Sure, he spoiled you, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

On your twenty-first birthday, he was there for your first drink. He slowly nursed his beer, making sure to keep a level head as you danced around the bar. No matter how hard you attempted to throw yourself at him, he kept his hands to himself. And as soon as you started to get sleepy he drove you home and tucked you in before passing out on your living room couch.

The morning after he was teaching you even more. How to handle a hangover. How Joel sounded rasping, “Happy birthday, honey,” against the column of your throat. How to come with just his hands on your tits.

The trick was a nice, slow buildup. He’d pinch and pull at a nipple before leaning down to press kisses to it. You’d gasp as his teeth grazed your skin ever so slightly and a laugh would rumble through his own chest. Your cunt wept so badly it ached. Still, Joel refused to pay it any mind. Not until he had you whimpering and writhing beneath him.

Even as he was breaking your heart, it was slow; it was painful.

When he told you that he’d gotten another girl pregnant, you almost didn’t believe it. Sure he teased you, but this was a step too far. That was the first time you caught him deliberately averting your gaze. The second you detected that shame, you wanted to scream at him.

You’d never known him to be shy around other girls. But you’d also never known him to be so careless. That pristine picture you had of him was gone in an instant.

The second it was said, you retreated. Or you were discarded. You’d never been able to remember who was the last one to call the other only to be met with an answering machine. You suppose it didn’t really matter anymore.

Years passed and soon those memories turned into mementoes of an entirely different world overnight.

There have been many lovers since then; none as kind as he had been once upon a time. Then again, if Joel was still alive, he was most likely just as rough around the edges as any of the men you’d been with. In fact, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him once since those days. You felt his calluses on every man’s hands, his thick fingers filling you, his stubble prickling your neck. Those men taught you many new things. The first being that patience wasn’t owed to anyone in a world where you could wake up dead. The second? Perhaps you didn’t want patience anymore.

After all, what had patience ever given you? When the world fell apart you got fuck all from simply waiting around for something to happen. You’d rather be torn apart by a clicker than get herded into a QZ where you’d scrounge for rations.

The first chance you got, you claimed a spot in a nomadic group. You did what you had to in order to prove your worth. The first time you shot a gun, as the smell of gunpowder filled your nostrils, you thought of Joel again. Tried to imagine him at your shoulder, chuckling and then muttering under his breath, “Dadgum, girl. Not bad.” 

Every single time you managed to take out one of those infected, you heard that smooth voice of his. It was equal parts frustrating and…comforting. Frustrating in that he had managed to linger this long. But also frustrating in the sense that that version of him no longer existed, if it ever did to begin with. It was like you’d never really left behind him, his honeyed words, his skilled hands, or his goddamn pickup. Joel Miller just…had a way of hanging over you. 

Jackson was a welcome reprieve from that cloud of grief. You were stubborn to the charms of that commune. You’d trusted more promising things before and been burned.

Those years really flew by. Old wounds finally began to close. With each passing kindness, it became easier to live again. For once home felt like a place you could tangibly hold instead of some far off fantasy. 

You were so content that by the time Tommy showed up one spring, you only saw it as a blessing. He was alive, goddamnit. It didn’t matter that his dark eyes were damn near the same shade as his brother’s. And it didn’t matter that the twang of Texas still lingered on his tongue. You simply told yourself what you’d been telling yourself for years.

Joel was just a man. A man who thought that because you were young, he had some sort of claim over your heart. His heart had never belonged to you. More importantly, yours hadn’t belonged to him. He made his mark and you’d paid your dues in heartache. That was all.

Which is why it felt all the more haunting when he showed up on your porch.

A little over three decades later and Joel’s right there in the flesh. Even with the town buzzing about his arrival, you suppressed any notion that he’d pay you a visit. But now he steps forward into the porch light and through the fog of his breath in the cold air, you catch how much he’s changed. He’s almost nothing like you remember. Silver dappled stubble, pursed lips, forehead wrinkling as he furrows his brow.

The expression falls as soon as he sees you. The crinkles by his eyes relax as his gaze softens. Just like it used to so long ago.

Yet you swear he hasn’t changed a lick when he finally speaks.

“Hey there, darlin’.”

[fandangotales]

Sweet… and bitter.

Summary: A sweet embrace (Xiao), and a bitter spiral (Scara)

Warnings: Cult AU, first half is very wholesome. Pure fluff! Second half includes spiraling thoughts, and implied murder. Scara is a yandere, or pretty close to it!

The flowers around you swayed gently in the breeze, as you breathed in the slight scent of Qinxin. You smiled, as you held one of the delicate flowers in your hand. Twirling it around, you slowly brought it closer to Xiao’s face. The adeptus frowned, confused by your action.

“Your Grace… what is the meaning of this?” He asked, his golden eyes swirling with curiosity, and a mix of anxiety. He truly didn’t wish to disappoint you, if this was some strange human tradition he was unaware of.

You chuckled, as you brought the Qinxin up to the soft teal tufts of hair on his head. With a gentle motion, you swiftly placed it in his hair, before he could protest. You smiled, admiring your work. It would be a shame to tear your eyes away from such a lovely sight… the light dust of pink forming across Xiao’s face, combined with the pale petals of the Qingxin. Truly a shame… especially when it suited your dear acolyte perfectly.

“Perfect…” you whispered, as you leaned in and brushed your thumb over his cheek. Your soft smile sent his mind into a frenzy, causing him to immediately debate what to do in response. Should he back away? No, that would be disrespectful… He could always smile back, but he didn’t have the confidence for that, especially in the presence of The Creator.

Xiao’s face got darker with the passing seconds, as he was suddenly reminded of how long he was taking to respond. His lips parted, and he let out a soft sound that sounded akin to the beginnings of a word.

“A-ah… um…”

How embarrassing… he couldn’t even form an intelligible response, from just slightest hint of your affection. It was always that way… you were just so overwhelming. So overwhelmingly beautiful, and sweet to him. Similar to the late nights when he’d imagine you next to him, gently stroking his hair as he recovered from the mind breaking bliss he’d brought himself, as he imagined what would happen if you ever saw him as something more than just one of your worshippers.

“Oh my, don’t tell me you’re thinking of something else right now. Your face is awfully red…”

Your words snapped him out of the memory, as he stuttered heavily in response. He simply couldn’t remember a time where he’d been this mortified. Not even in his 2000 years of life.

“Uh… you see… ahem. The adepti do not think of such impure acts.”

He spoke sternly, even though his cheeks remained in a cute shade of pink. His tone cracked at the end though, further confirming your suspicions. You decided to tease him a bit more, leaning in until your soft lips brushed against the shell of his ear.

“Is that so? I find that hard to believe, especially when I can see… how you got quite worked up about something.”

Your eyes trailed down to his lap, pointing out how he was visually aroused. Xiao blushed harder, if that was even possible at this point. He always hated it when you teased him, because it would only elevate whatever he was feeling in the moment.

“…My apologies.” He murmured, looking off to the side, in a futile effort to avoid your gaze. “I-I shouldn’t be responding in this way. Not in your presence, Your Grace.”

Your hand reached out to cup his face, slowly angling it back to make him look straight at you. Your face had a warm smile on it, reassuring and serene, although it did little to quell his worries.

“Xiao, I don’t think I’d mind if you respond in this way. Don’t you know that I favor you? That I… prefer your company over most?”

Your words took a few seconds to register, as his eyes flew open in shock. All of those times you had asked for him to be near, or simply sit with you outside… it wasn’t because you wanted him to protect you.

Oh.

You… wanted him.

As… a person? Not just as a weapon to be used and discarded, and not as some kind of accessory to be owned.

And that gentle, kind smile of yours, combined with the way you were patiently waiting for him to process your words? Too overwhelming… he wasn’t used to being cared for like this. His eyes grew watery, as his emotions swelled within him. Waves of happiness, combined with an even greater feeling of thankfulness overwhelmed his mind. You were too good to him… such a benevolent god for even caring for someone like him.

“Y-your Grace…” Xiao choked out, as tears streamed down his pale cheeks. He appeared to be torn between wanting to feverishly press his lips against yours, and wanting to cling onto you as a way of grounding himself.

Before another tear could streak down his face, those plush lips of yours were against his, in a comforting exchange. His arms wrapped around you, as he returned it wholeheartedly, still in disbelief that this was even happening. He didn’t let go, not even for a second. After a few moments of pure passion, you pulled back, just enough to speak.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, sweetheart.”

Your smile widened, as you pressed another kiss to his forehead.

“You wouldn’t mind if I were to call you that, hm?”

The only response you got was a stiff nod, as he quickly latched onto your body again. This time, he rested his head on your chest, in an attempt to hide his face. You laughed, hugging him back. He was just… too endearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A distance away, a soft clatter sounded through the clearing. What was intended to be green tea for two now lay on the ground… with the pot and cups shattered into many pieces. The path gradually soaked up the now cooling tea, as the puppet stood there in silence.

A tense atmosphere filled the area, as he observed you embracing Xiao.

This feeling… it was jealousy.

Pure and unbridled jealousy, as Scara narrowed his eyes at that pathetic and insignificant “adeptus” from afar. How dare he steal your attention. How dare he waste your precious time, when it could be spent with him instead?

Why would you even want to while away your time with such a weakling?!

Scara’s nails dug into his hands, as he continued staring at the two of you from a distance. Karmic debt? What a joke. If anything, that was likely a mere lie intended to steal your attention away from him. To make you fret and give your divine presence to Xiao.

You were too kind for your own good, always bound to fall for the simplest of tricks if it meant helping another person. Such a kind god… one that would be oh so easy to manipulate.

The thought only amplified his feelings… this meant that the other man was taking advantage of you.

Disgraceful.

He wouldn’t allow it. Nobody would hurt you, physically or emotionally, especially after all that you’ve done for him.

Scara’s hand reached up to readjust his hat, effectively shielding his eyes from view. He would take care of this, one way or another.

That’s what a good puppet is supposed to do, isn’t it? To serve it’s master to the extent of it’s abilities.

It doesn’t matter if he gets a bit bloody in the process.

A small smirk formed on his lips, as he contemplated his next move… he wasn’t going to let that degenerate get off easy.

After all, washing blood off synthetic skin has never been an issue.

[th1every]

Interview

What has led you to where you are today?

It was hard to believe in the small things having a grand, lasting impact on one's life, yet every drop of water made a stream.

There were too many large details that made the story fantastic and fanatical, and yet Gaius's lips purse into a straight line after the question is posed. It would take him centuries to tell the tale well enough to do it justice, of timestreams and battles, of people and places so great that the mere memory towered over him.

Yet it was the finer details that brought him to Garreg Mach on that lazy afternoon, events so insignificant he almost bubbled with laughter just thinking about it. First a bar fight with a stranger that turned out to be of nobility, and then the accidental exposure of his tattoo, which in turn led him to being run out of town.

It's a shame, too. Quiet little hamlet, yet so many deep pockets...

There was better here. There had to be, or all of those days spent fighting were for nothing.

"My feet." He answers finally, waving his hand as if to clear the air of the inquiry. "Next question."

What do you believe are your greatest strengths? Your greatest weaknesses?

It should've been par for the course to be asked about strengths and weaknesses during an interview, and yet the look that flashed across his face was that of unpreparedness. Maybe it was just the 'weakness' part that caught him off guard.

"My strengths? Plenty." He stopped there, taking his time to unwrap the package off a brand new candy. The crinkling and crackling of the wrapper is the only thing heard in the room for a good while, managing (with some struggle) to get the plastic off, popping the sweet treat in his mouth before he decides to speak again.

"I think one of my greatest has to be my ability to take criticism." Chew, chew, chew. "One of the greatest assets you can have in life is the willingness to see what skill you lack, and put in the time and effort to change the results."

Wise words, Gaius.

"I fight pretty well, too. I'm good at housework, and I'm pretty good at using my hands."

A second candy joins the fray, again the sound of crackling plastic filling the room.

"As for weaknesses..."

Gaius stared down at the colorful packaging in his open palm, wondering if it was obvious that he had a weakness for sweet things. The flavor was just too hard to resist, and came in all types of ways: chewy, soft and light, hard and brittle...

"Don't have any. Oh, but I hate bugs."

If a story were to be written about your life, what role would you play?

"Interesting choice of question."

While he had little knowledge on things like roles when it came to one's personal life, he also felt that it was... kind of a loaded question.

Life was a lot more than black and white, after all. Gaius liked to think he fell into one of those grey areas, the ones that bordered between good and evil, as most creatures did. He knew what he was doing in life was wrong, but he also believed in stealing from the rich to give to the poor: the poor usually being himself. He still maintained things like morals, but losing money didn't hurt those in positions of power that much.

"The anti-hero. I understand that sometimes, getting your hands dirty in order to do the right thing is a necessity."

[detransition]

from permutational

“I never knew a woman like you could exist, so how could I even dream of you before I knew you?”

My wonderful girlfriend wrote this to me in her most recent love letter. She was writing about the concept of a “dream woman”, and how she wasn’t sure what hers would look like or be like until she met me. But, I can’t stop thinking about it, because this one little phrase captures something big about the butch lesbian experience, something I’ve had a hard time putting words to. It also captures realizations I’ve gone through after detransitioning.

It’s almost a “ring of keys” kind of thought. But I love how it highlights the relationship between knowing and dreaming. What you’re aware of influences what you can dream about, what you can aspire to. What you know informs the possibilities of who you can be and love at your core.

Back a few years ago, when my crisis was was coming to a head and I decided to detransition, I felt lost. I craved an “undo” button that didn’t exist. All I knew was where I’d already been, only there was no going back. I couldn’t envision what my future might look like, especially with how far I’d gone in transitioning. I couldn’t imagine that I’d ever “live as a woman” again; I felt “too far gone”. It didn’t seem like the concept of “womanhood” could encircle me as I was. When was the last time I saw a woman that looked like me? Oh yeah, never – that was the original goal, after all.

In that moment, when I didn’t know what to do, I went with my gut: the very first thing I did was make a beeline straight to YouTube. Probably sounds a little strange, but looking back, it makes sense to me. I was searching for possibilities, for people, for stories. I wanted direct evidence that someone like me can exist, because I felt very unreal.

I looked up ‘detransition’, and there they were. Not many at the time, but enough. There were people with deepened voices, facial hair, mastectomies, bodies and histories like mine, unmistakable. And yet, they called themselves women, some even called themselves lesbians.

I watched and listened, and it didn’t matter what they were talking about; I didn’t even agree with everything they said. What mattered was that they existed. They were real.  Some of these women passed as male, but didn’t seem pressed to change themselves any further or in any way, and still emphatically called themselves women. It was mind blowing to me, and comforting. Knowing that I wouldn’t be the first or only one like this was a relief. It gave me courage, made me feel a little less crazy. It felt like I could move forward knowing that I’m not utterly alone in this experience.

And later on, I actually met these women, and others like them. Women with different ideas and opinions, not all of whom agreed with one another, or used the same words, or understood themselves in the same way. Regardless of differences, they had experiences in common with each other, and with me.

Each strange woman I’ve met has broadened the possibilities of what a woman can be, and what kind of woman I can be. Spending time with other uncommon women has fundamentally changed me at my core. There is something they gifted me that I don’t have words for. Something that came from seeing, hearing, and sharing space. Knowing by witnessing.

My beard carries memories of the bearded women I’ve met and loved; when I look in the mirror, I see part of them in me. My head is bald because I met other women who were bald first, and through them got the courage to take the plunge and buzz it all off and never look back. My voice is stronger from singing with others who embraced their changed voices. I don’t have the shame and embarrassment about my voice that I did before.

Every single part of my body carries the memories of other women like me. Detransitioned women, butch dykes young and old, friends, lovers… My opinion of myself and what I can be has fundamentally changed because of the possibilities I’ve seen in other women.

I never knew women like us could exist. But I know now, and I dream of us often.

thinking of detransition? you are not alone

[cilly-the-writer]

SHADOWS OF SORCERY | Part 15 | “Shadow of Secrets” | 2,229 words

Content Warning: Violence, blood

     Imogene followed the student's turns down the hallway. It was easy blending in with other students at first, but the last hallway he took was empty, so Imogene turned and hid behind the corner.

     She peered out as he approached the vending machine under a dark stairwell. It beeped as he held his student card to the scanner. Then he pressed his hand to the glass, prompting a seal of purple light to shine over the item he was selecting. The coil sprang forward and his energy drink dropped down to the dispenser. He grabbed it and that’s when Imogene heard him thinking that he should check to see if anyone was around.

     Imogene jumped back around the corner. 

     She sensed him listening to the hallway for movement, confirming that no one else was around. At least as far as he knew. Then he moved to the side of the vending machine—cast in the darkness of the stairwell's shadows. He waved one hand over it and a violet film of light flashed over it, projecting a portal door to another room. He stepped inside and Imogene felt the connection to his thoughts breaking.

     She couldn't hear him. He was too far away.

     She peered around the corner, seeing the soft glow of purple and yellow light emanating from the side of the vending machine. She crept over slowly to check it out. Yet just when she went to peek around the corner—he grabbed her and pulled her inside. 

     He formed cuffs around her wrists and sealed the portal door before she could even blink. Her hands were bound behind her back as he yanked her arm and forced her to sit back against the wall.

     "You didn't think I was actually letting you read my thoughts, did you?"

     Imogene's stomach twisted as she caught the smirk on his face and she took in her surroundings. It was a storage room with brick walls and wooden shelves strewn with cobwebs. The only source of light was the glow of hundreds of different magic cores in glass jars. Most of them were a distinct deep purple.

     That meant they were sorcerer magic cores.

     It was like a collection of marbles. Only much more twisted.

     The student, Devin Sage, turned to one of the shelves and grabbed his energy drink. He cracked the tab against the tin to open it, delighted at the fizzling sound of carbonation. He watched the look on Imogene's face drop as he took a sip.

“I was told to take care of you. You know too much… Your ability is a little too good.” Devin took another gulp of his drink. “It’s also rare.”

     Imogene just stared back at him. Unable to form a response.

“They want it.” With that, he downed the rest of the drink and crushed the can in his hand, conjuring a dagger in the same hand before he tossed the can at the floor. He kept the dagger at his side as he crouched down and leaned in closer. “It’s a shame though. You seem kind of innocent. I don’t really want to kill you. Maybe he can just extract your magic core… and change some memories around after we get your friend’s magic core.”

     Her breathing hitched at that last comment.

     “You leave her alone!” Imogene struggled against the cuffs and grit her teeth, suddenly not afraid to be in his face.

     “It worked really well on Kaden anyway.” he said. “It was kind of funny when he came back and he said he never heard of Elora. He still doesn’t remember what the hell we’re talking about.”

     “Who else are you working with? Who’s the extractor you were just talking about?” Imogene slanted her brows.

     “Well, I don’t really know his name… and I’ve never really seen his face.” Devin said, rising from his crouched position. “So your guess is as good as mine.”

     “What do you mean?” 

     Devin forced a smile, brushing her off.

     “I have to get going. But you’re a little too smart to just leave you here like this.”

     Imogene squinted. What did that mean? But then he twirled his finger and his dagger pierced her abdomen as it shot straight into her side. Imogene cringed at the influx of shooting pain, her stomach instantly feeling sick.

“I won’t be long. You’ll be fine.”

     He pressed his palm to the door and another portal appeared, but this time–he closed it hastily and Imogene was alone in the room. She looked down to see the dagger still in her side. The dagger should have disappeared. He had left. Developer magic was only temporary. It had to be kept active by the conjuring sorcerer.

     “Oh my god, he has a magic preservation ability.” Imogene held back the pain in her throat. Despairing at not just the pain, but the fact he had the ability she wanted. “That’s not fair.”

     In the meanwhile, Charlotte’s match was still going on.  

    She and her opponent were finally tiring out, but neither of them were giving up. Angela threw as many energy blasts as she could dish out and Charlotte blocked them as they flew her way—her fields breaking every time due to her inexperience. But the next succession of hits was dizzying. Charlotte’s vision tunneled and her hands trembled as she conjured an energy field that shattered faster than all of the previous ones.

     It knocked her to the ground and she blacked out for long enough that the buzzer went off. She heard it faintly in the background of her subconscious. In seconds, there was a set of teachers at her side to aid in her healing. But she really only needed a minute to catch her breath and heal herself. 

     She sat up slowly, graciously thanking the teachers for their support in a melancholic tone. She had lost. She had gone in expecting to lose quickly, and yet, here she was feeling disappointed that she didn’t win. Maybe because her friends had believed in her so much.

     She exhaled and got up. She insisted she was fine and shortly after that, she headed back to find her friends in the stands.

     Elora flashed a quick, consoling smile when she got back.

     “Well, I lost…” Charlotte said.

     “It was literally almost a tie though.” Jaelin said.

     “And there’s no way they aren’t giving you a good score,” Elora said. “A really long match is good. You did great. Really.”

     “Thank you… and thank you for being here too," Then glancing at the empty seat between her and Jaelin, she went on, “Where’s Imogene?”

     “She went to get you a smoothie, but the line must have been long. You want to go catch up with her?”

     Charlotte nodded. They left their row in the stands and headed out the double doors where the hallway's quietness hit them. It was just as dead as it had been earlier. 

     There was no line at the cafe either.

     She wasn't here.

     Elora glanced around to be sure. Then she dug out the stupid school lanyard from her pocket with the tiny marble charm and dangled it in front of herself, concentrating on it. It was powered by a kind of pre-instilled dreamer magic that could send a light signal to anyone's charms at the school.

     She stared at it, waiting for Imogene to signal her back. 

     But the charm was clipped to Imogene's bracelet, lighting up behind her. She couldn't see it. Her wrists were still bound by cuffs made out of developer magic. That she couldn’t break. Her casting magic was too weak.

     Imogene glanced around the shelves full of glass jars and magic cores. It was hard to believe that he had left her in here—in a room full of potentially very powerful magic. But when she shoved her shoulder into the shelf beside her, trying to knock one of the jars down, she hit a seal of light.

     Of course it was sealed.

     Magic seals were the work of a special dreamer ability. They looked and acted a lot like casting magic, but once the energy was created—it stayed in that shape and form. It wasn't malleable like casting magic. Seals could only be unlocked by the unique core magic of those intended to unlock it. With a few exceptions. 

     She shoved her body into the seal one more time, but she wasn't meant to unlock it. The film of light stayed intact. She breathed hard at the pain it caused. She was moving around too much with the dagger in her side.

     Her gaze drifted to the crumpled energy drink on the floor by her foot. She stared at it. It had been in his hand when he conjured the dagger. He had certainly used his magic preservation ability on the dagger. She wondered if there was any trace of his magic on the can. 

     There was only one way to find out.

     She kicked the can toward herself and pushed it into the film of light with the bottom of her sneaker. The seal brightened at the point of impact like usual–

     And then it broke open.

     Imogene gasped at the sheer high her success had evoked. She didn't think it would actually work. She quickly banged her shoulder into the shelves one more time and shut her eyes as some of the jars came crashing down.

     They hit the floor and glass shattered everywhere. Imogene opened her eyes to see what kind of prizes had spilled out. It was like the magic jackpot. There were glowing cores everywhere. But the labels were mixed up among the shards.

     She just needed energy magic to break the cuffs. She just had to try one and test it out. Imogene nudged one over with her foot, guiding it. She let it roll toward the wall so she could just barely reach it with her fingers. As soon as she touched it, the magic crumbled into a purple light that absorbed into her skin.

     It was like a breath of cool air as it found its way to her center and reformed into a magic core. Imogene closed her eyes and imagined energy magic breaking the cuffs apart and it happened: a purple light burst across them. The cuff’s energy form shattered and she fell halfway onto the floor, on her hands. Her body weakening at the blood loss.

     Imogene pushed herself up, falling back to her knees at the first step. She breathed out hard and grabbed the soda can before continuing at a crawl.  She held the can to the seal over the door, her arm trembling as she kept it in place. It broke open. She pushed through, over the threshold and finally caught the charm on her bracelet lighting up out of the corner of her eye. That’s when she collapsed under the stairwell’s darkness.

    She gazed at the blinking bracelet, somewhat out of it and she lay on the cold tiled floor. But she gathered the message easily: Where are you? Imogene stared at the charm and concentrated on her reply.

     Simultaneously, Elora’s charm lit up on her lanyard. The blinking light garnering her attention immediately:

     V-E-N-D-I-N-G  M

    “Vending M?” Elora said, surprised at Imogene’s abbreviation. 

     “There’s a vending machine over that way.” Jaelin gestured down the hallway.    

     Elora started walking. She kept a brisk pace down the hall and and took the turns Jaelin told her, freezing once she saw Imogene's lifeless body in a pool of blood.

     "Imogene!"

     Elora ran the length of the hallway and dropped down in front of her. Her firelights lagged just a second behind in a cloud of frenzy, zipping over to catch up and divide themselves between Elora and Imogene with indecision.

"No, just heal her!" Elora cried out, but it wasn't necessary by that point–because Charlotte had already run over and bent down to heal her.

     Imogene woke slowly to the desperate look on Elora's face—and the silent rage in her eyes. Seeing red for whoever did this to her.

"What happened?" Elora asked.

     Imogene started to push herself up from the ground. That's when they all saw the dagger.

     "You… stabbed yourself?" Jaelin's emotions caught in his throat. He had only known Imogene for a few days, but he didn't want anything bad to happen to her.

     "No," Imogene said weakly, realizing how the magic dagger looked when she was the only one around, "this isn't my magic. Someone… someone wanted my magic—."

     Elora’s pupil’s shrank at the realization:

     The exam yesterday.

     Imogene’s mind reading ability must have caught someone’s attention. She had matched against one of the most skilled sorcerers in their class–mirroring and paralleling her movements so perfectly that it looked like she could see the future. 

"He had a whole room of magic cores. He said he was coming back. He said —.”

     Imogene stopped before she said anything about Elora. Neither Charlotte or Jaelin knew about her mind control ability. She couldn’t say anything. She looked at Elora to relay her fear, and Elora understood immediately. 

     This was bad. Imogene shouldn’t have had to keep secrets for her like this. A hard lump formed in Elora’s throat as she clutched the charm on her lanyard and alerted the school’s board of teachers.

     Whose charms lit with a red flashing S-O-S light across the school.

Next >>

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - Gabriel Cohuelo/Velocidad:

While X-Force is staying at Ranch X before splitting up, Gabe has a very blunt conversation with the madam, Stacy X

"Please stop talking to me like this is any other business," Gabriel responded without even taking a beat. "I know it is for you. I know it mostly is. I know it's legal here and regulated, and I don't know you from Adam, but I am sure you're an ethical madam and everything is above board and everybody is treated perfectly well. But don't say clients or professionals or talent, not to me." He flicked ash on the ground. "I know sex work is work. I'm a good millennial. I'm online, I read all the viral tweets. But this is... this is just..." He stared at the cigarette in his right hand. "And you, at the top of it all."

She paused for a long moment, her look searching. "The difference between the world you remember and the one I've created here is that I don't make the decisions for other people. I'm not pretending this place is some kind of altruistic endeavor. I make my money. But I use terms like professionals and talent because that is what they have chosen to be before I ever got involved." She gave him a slight, knowing smile. "But I also don't expect to change your mind over a cigarette. But I'm happy to answer any questions any time you have them. So would most of the people here."

It was his turn to pause and consider that. "I don't want to ask," he finally said. "I can't imagine — I don't even..." He couldn't vocalize what he wanted to say. He wasn't even sure what he was thinking or feeling; he'd lost his ability to think straight when they'd gotten here. Too many memories — well, impressions, more like, they weren't specific, but they were flooding his brain, and he loathed how little control he had over that. For years, he'd kept a part of himself locked up, and then a demon ripped open the lockbox and preyed upon the weaker parts of his soul. And now he was sitting here next to a woman who had, apparently, had a similar journey and turned it into wealth and status and something good, when all it had brought him was darkness and pain.

He looked up, surprised by a choking noise that he'd heard, and it was only after a moment that he realized his face was wet and the noise was in fact his own guttural sob, a violent sound that, if he were a more poetic person, he'd imagine had been working its way out of his lungs for years.

She touched him carefully, gingerly. Just his shoulders to start, light enough that he could break away with a twitch and looked into his eyes. "I know. I know. But, if nothing else, you're safe here." Stacy said. "If nothing else, believe that from me."

Gabriel had flinched at her touch. Her words made him want to crawl into a hole. The whole thing was absolutely mortifying. Had he felt this exposed when his mind had leaked his fear and shame and recollections to Quentin? He couldn't remember, but it felt different; he remembered being more stoic, more matter-of-fact. Certainly he hadn't reacted like this.

He sat there for a bit, no longer making noise, trying to stay calm, not wanting to look at her or say anything or acknowledge how his body and brain were betraying him. He knew she understood on some level, and that made it easier, but it also made him hate the way he was now acting. And yet at the same time, even though she got the contours, she didn't know him, and maybe that made the whole thing less meaningful, because there were no stakes.

"They don't know," he said, his voice shaky but mostly under control. "Not even Sydney." There was an implicit warning there that he suspected she'd understand. "Never got caught. No trouble with the law, no paper trail."

"Makes things a little easier." As he'd struggled, she had pulled back, leaving him back in his own space. "Can't vouch for the rest of them, but if you ever decided, I know it won't make a difference to Syd. You know, that's what I remember most the first time I met him? Half a dozen feds in the room and he was the only one that looked at me like a person as opposed to just some whore."

"Well, that's you." Gabriel said. "But I don't need him to know." He didn't doubt her account, but it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have, ever, and he begrudged her for pushing him into it, even if it was clear that he was willing to be open with her because there was no fear of reproof. And because she'd seen something that he felt he needed to acknowledge, even if he resented her for that too.

[lladmie]

Thirsty Thursday

Give us an excerpt—WIP or finished (preferably sth. new:))—that tells of pleasure and sensuality. Romantic fluff and writings about the many other pleasures are greatly welcome, too!

Thank you so much @revoevokukil for the tag! ♥ I tag @woundedheartwithin (if she wants to share) because I'm reading her works and she's giving Majimako some good love. I seize the opportunity to post a short excerpt of a new work. It's still a WIP... Something I started writing some time ago for personal pleasure, and that I never finished because my Majimako fic What You Are Worth needs an update after almost a year, don't you think? (I know. I'm very sorry for that. I'm planning to post the third chapter before New Year.)

It has no plot, just... sex? Well, I was imagining a future post-Y0 where Makoto and Majima lived together and started a relationship like two (apparently) normal people.

Pairing: Majima/Makoto (Yakuza/RGG) Warnings:

smut

minor references to past abuses

"Ohi," Majima grumbled, annoyed.

A warm hand closed around hers, moving it on his erection with easiness, up and down. She didn't even notice she had stopped her ministrations. The moment the pleasure had shot throught her at his slow, surprisingly tender fingers working on her most delicate gem, hidden among the folds of her femininity, Makoto had completely forgot why they were both sprawled naked on the futon in the first place.

"Sorry." She answered as a sigh escaped her lips. "You're… You're distracting me."

Shoulders to shoulders and one arm crossed with his, Makoto was trying hard to keep her brain active while his fingertips stroked and rubbed, entwined in her dark curls.

"I'm doin' my job here." She could hear the humor in his voice. "Been the only one, though."

His hand wandered for a moment, caressing her labia and outlining her entrance, only to go up to her clit again. Heat spreaded in her lower abdomen as Makoto's body stirred. She was feeling incredibly exposed with him at her side and not hovering over her as he usually did in those kind of situations, his weight a safe anchor between her desires and the memories they evoked. Sometimes, when she couldn't look at shame and fear straight in the eye, she still preferred to close her eyes, to feel nothing but voices and touches in the way she did for the last two years of her life. But Majima wasn't any of the men that had abused her at the time; he claimed to love her. Wasn't it why they were exploring each other that way? Taking a step as a time, living it as normal as possible.

She released a stuttering breath as one of his finger breached her swollen flesh to push inside her.

His only eye, fixed on hers, was pitch black and alert. She knew what he was searching for. It was all right, she wanted to say. It really was. Instead, she flushed from the neck to the ears. At the very least, she didn't feel as if she was going to cry in panic, unlike the very first time they had made love.

"Makoto." She heard him grunt as she rocked her hips eagerly against his hand, "Yer holdin' it again like it is a dagger or something."

Makoto bit her lip, because he was right. Her hand was still holding his erection thigh and content, without making any effort to move. It was hard to concentrate enough to give him the right attentions when the only thing she wanted to do was letting herself float away at the sensations he was pulling out of her. And unlike hers, Majima's caresses never ceased, never halted a moment; sometimes he just changed intensity and tempo.

She gave a few fast strokes from the base of his erection to the tip before resuming a moderate pace, and was rewarded with a low moan that seemed to pass through her. "That's it," he hummed. "Keep goin', yeah?"

Another finger joined the one already inside her as Makoto shifted her hips to give Majima better access. The slick sound in tandem with her writhing and gasping was making her want to burst. Makoto tilted her head in a desperate search for Majima's mouth. He didn't make her wait. The kiss was long and too prudish for the kind of passion he was showing her further down, but enough for her heart to sing in gladness.

She felt him push himself in her hand.

A sign that she forgot to take care of him again.

Makoto was going to apologize when Majima suddenly freed himself from her grip. The melody in her chest turned to a silent scream.

"Wh-what..." she started, and almost yelped when he folded her in half, knees touching her chest.

Makoto glanced down, heart beating fast for reasons she preferred not to delve into too deeply, reasons Majima saw to surprisingly fast. Taking her hands and squeezing them hard without letting go, he slowly lowered his mouth between her legs.

He kissing first the sides of her thighs where past left its witness on her skin in the form of an ugly artwork. If nothing else, that wasn't making her anxious anymore.

"Didn't you want to, ah, do something easy to relax?"

"Changed my mind," he answered as his tongue finally reached the desired destination and explored her until she trembled, and their entwined hands resting on either side of her pubis trembled together.

"Wanna die here," he muttered, as his nose sinked in her creases. "Like this. Fuck, I hope I'll die like 'is."

"Don't say that," Makoto scolded him softly, ignoring the light tingle his words and mouth sent into her belly. "Don't say that you want to die... Or that you'll die soon, like you always do..."

She could feel his odd smile against her.

"Please."

She had lost too much already. She didn't want to think of losing more just when she was starting to gain something back.

He left a popping kiss on her core. Once, twice. A promise he couldn't possibly speak. A second later he was at work again. Squeezing his head between her scarred thighs, Makoto arched and moaned. One of Majima's hands moved on her clit, caressing it with lazy, circling movements. She had to close her eyes again at the glimpse of absolute adoration she saw in his gaze for a flashy moment before her release.

She took a deep breath.

A kiss landed on her cheek.

"All good?"

Makoto's hand was still trembling in his hold.

[karlswrites]

A Grimm Trip

This is part two of the Devildom boys carrying you around. From here on out, this little series shall be affectionally named the Devildom Taxi Service. This week's boy is Mams the Man.

I hope y'all enjoy a protective Mammon!

Warnings: Some violence? Like, there's no blood. Also, you have a twisted ankle, so... sorry. There's that good fluff, though...

Word Count: 1,694

When arriving at the Devildom- even though it was a shock- you didn’t expect most demons to be friendly with you. You expected some cursing and the classic life endangerment, but you didn’t expect high-school-level bullying. You were in college, for Pete’s sake. Needless to say, the demon foot sticking out by your classroom’s door was an unpleasant surprise. So was the faceplant that followed right after.

You attempted to stand back up, pulling yourself up by your elbows and knees. Within one second, a disheveled Mammon (Let’s be honest, he would sprint to you) was kneeling at your side. His hands made swift movements, one landing at the small of your back and the other grabbing at one of your wrists. He pulled you up and into him.

His heartbeat drummed against your ears. It was beating fast. Whether it was from worrying about you or embarrassment, you didn’t know. Still, the sound fluttered around you, engulfing you in warmth. Expected to see a miffed Mammon, as he was typically vexed by you getting in trouble, you looked up. Mammon had apparently decided to look at you then, too. A furious blush washed over his cheeks and ears when he noticed how close you were. The expression was surprising, and the shock of it made you grow a similar shade in return. Again, you felt his pulse rate increase. That somehow calmed you, and you began to relish in everything that was Mammon. He was always so selfless as to embarrass himself in your stead. Stepping in right after you suffered a measly trip, caring not for his tarnished reputation. His brothers always called him selfish, but, boy howdy, were they wrong.

Mammy released your wrist but kept his hand on your back, ensuring that you wouldn’t fall back down. The two of you began to stand together when a sharp pain shot through your ankle. Mammon immediately lowered you back to the floor, sitting you back against the wall.

“Whoa, hey! Are you okay?” he asked, words tumbling out of his mouth about a mile a minute.

You almost couldn’t understand him, though his urgency to treat you was sweet. Futilely, you tried to ensure him that you were fine, but that same pain returned when you attempted to move again. Turning your foot felt like a death sentence; you were in rough shape.

Before you could muster any soothing words, Mammon was at his feet again. Never taking his eyes off you, he approached the other student still laughing at his desk. The boy fell silent when he noticed the Avatar of Greed was standing before him. The cocky grin he wore turned panicked.

“You think it’s funny? You think hurting my human is funny?” Mammon’s voice lowered an octave as he spoke. Some semblance of a growl echoed from his throat.

Those shrill screams and whines you had once associated him with melted away from your memory and were replaced by, if you thought you had heard correctly, his snarl. He was clearly pissed off. Being the only demon who never laid a hand on you, it was a bit scary to see him behave like this. Anger was beginning to physically manifest around him; the lights dimmed and the surrounding air started to cumulate into black fog.

Being the fourth (I’m putting Barbatos at #2) most powerful demon, Mammon was capable of things beyond your imagination. Fear took the reigns in your brain as you began to imagine a series of scenarios, each pumping more and more cortisol into your veins. One image showed the greedy demon decimating your classmate, claws ripping into their uniform, fangs plunging into any extremity he could reach, horns threatening to pierce through the top of his head. It was quite the contrast to how he typically acted when terrorized by Lucifer or any of his other brothers. He’d allow them to hang him from the ceiling, but God forbid anyone to do anything like that to you. You were his emotional support human, and he wanted to protect you as your first. Anyone who hurt you was begging for whatever they got.

You were pulled from your thoughts when the unnamed demon yelped. Mammon had lifted him, fists curling into his jacket’s collar. The black fog had begun to swirl around the two, gradually rising from Mammon’s feet into the air. With each curse and threat escaping his lips, the fog rose higher and higher. If things continued like this, the two would be swallowed whole by the essence.

Knowing that there was no other way to stop Mammon from making a mistake, you called out him. The golden glow from Mammon’s sigil emitted from your back and through the thick material of your jacket. A wave of strength coursed through you as you stretched a hand out towards the two.

“Stop.” Your voice rang louder than you intended, but you were surprised by how clear it was. Your body was still shaking, but it definitely didn’t sound like it.

Mammon froze. His hands stilled as if frozen in time. The black fog dissipated completely a second after your command reached him.

“Let him go, Mammon. Come back to me.” Mammon eased at your soft voice and followed your orders without a thought.

When he looked back at you, his eyes gleamed with something: a mixture of gratitude and shame. There was rarely a cause for you to command him, and he hated every single time he brought you to control him. It wasn’t relinquishing himself to you that upset him. No, it was that he had let you down. To him, he had done something grave. Anything that he did that wasn’t right with you was like a cardinal sin in his eyes. His perception was a tad melodramatic, but after how you fixed the broken remnants of his family, you were truly an angel to him. Disappointing you had become his biggest fear and grievance.

“It’s okay,” you called to him, your voice beginning to waver as the sigil’s magic wore off. “You’re okay.”

You silently prayed that your words anchored themselves to him, and you made a note to yourself to praise him for his kindness later once you saw the light returning to his golden orbs- the same gold that brightened when he let the student go and raced back to your side. Mammon was still undoubtedly angry at the other demon, baring teeth as he glared at him over his shoulder. Getting the hint, he and your other classmates hurried out of the room.

Mammon asked again if you were okay. You said yes. His eyes traveled from yours to your ankle (When writing this, I almost said, “His eyes traveled down south for the winter. Not even kidding), and he removed your shoe. He wrapped his hand around your ankle and gently poked it with his thumb, eliciting a quiet whimper. The pout he gave after almost made you laugh despite the pain.

“Yeah, I ain’t lettin’ ya walk like that,” he murmured. His eyes met yours again and his pout spread into a white smile. “Guess it’s my duty to help ya back to your room.”

As you recalled one past life-threatening instance, you understood Mammy loved playing the hero, so you agreed.

Mammon turned on his knees, facing his back towards you. Carefully, he trudged backward to you, keeping his eyes trained to yours. He was subconsciously looking for any sign of discomfort- another testament to how caring he was, even if he didn’t recognize it. He gripped the backside of your knees firmly and dipped his head. That gave you enough room to pull yourself forward, wrapping your arms over his shoulders, mindful not to put too much pressure around his neck. You didn’t want to accidentally choke your knight in messy uniform.

“I hope I’m not too heavy,” you breathed against his neck. He shook off the shiver you caused with a hearty laugh.

“There’s no way you’re too heavy for the Great Mammon!” he protested, pulling you closer to him by your knees.

In one fluid motion, he hoisted you up and stood. He was pretty graceful for a “scumbag,” and you hugged yourself closer. Your chin found a home on his shoulder, slipping past the undone collar of his shirt, clinging to the warmth of his skin. Additionally, your arms were pushing his jacket further past his shoulders to his elbows, but there was no way he was going to complain. On the contrary, the pink gracing his cheeks proposed he liked the closeness. Well, that wasn’t very tsundere of him. Before you could catch it, a giggle slipped past your lips as he stepped out of the classroom.

“What’s so funny, human?” Mammon asked, nudging your cheek with his. You wondered if he could feel how he made your face hotter than hell. He must have because his step faltered.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how selfless you are.” That was sorta true.

Unlike the cheerfulness that rang from him before, his laugh was dull. He removed his cheek from yours and looked straight ahead.

“I ain’t selfless!” His hollow laugh died down, and he turned serious. “If anything, I’m selfish and greedy. I wanted to be the hero, I wanted to save you, and nobody else ain’t gonna get the chance to when I’m around!” His voice picked up when he finished, and his eyes were renewed with vibrancy as he looked to you. He cheered himself up with his own words, and his “greed” flowed from him like sweetness.

“Still, you’re sweet to help me. Thank you,” you cooed, connecting your cheeks once again.

This time, it was Mammy’s turn to erupt into a flustered state. He almost tripped over his own two feet, though he was careful to keep himself up. He was carrying precious cargo after all.

Upon delivering you to your dorm, the two of you spent the rest of the day watching your favorite shows and movies, eating your favorite snacks. Of course, Mammon argued he only allowed such thing ‘cause he liked them too.’

Lucifer's (Part 1): Pride In Arms

[127-mile]

Pairing : demon!Jaehyun x fem!reader.

Genre : demon!au / yandere-ish!au / fluff, angst, mature content.

Warnings : This is not what a normal loving relationship is like, this is a work of fiction. fingering (fem. receiving) unprotected sex (kids, please be smart) coming inside. non sexual choking. mention of deaths. explicit (kind of, it’s pretty soft) and non explicit deaths. blood. alcohol consumption. mention of drugs. manipulation. toxic relationship.

Word count : +10.1k.

Plot : Instead of having a guardian angel, you have a guardian demon. His methods are often more violent, but they are more straight forward. What does he have that the regular guardians don’t ? An obsession. You.

You didn’t think being assigned to a demon was a simple mistake, do you ?

A/N : This is part of the Halloween collab made by the incredible @neo-cult-ure. We had to choose a song, mine is Kill for you by Zolita.

Taglist : @plump-peach​ / @crtznstuff​ / @kriselynne​ / @yourmagnanimousholiness​ / @soothingjae​ / @peachjaem00​ / @chanslaptopp​ / @luvlyjaemin​ / @jeongyoonohs​ / @junghoe​ / @nakayutasama​ / @ddaawwnn7​

"Say my name." the voice in your ear is hoarse, and it echoes in your head. You feel the man's hands along your arms, and his fingers leave a scorching trail in their paths. "Say my name." he repeats one more time, and you make the mistake of opening your eyes. What you see is not human, the eyes are red, deep and empty of any kind of humanity, you see yourself in the void. "Say my name, and I will show you wonders that humans can only dream of." His voice is urgent, and though you are thinking, you can not remember his name.

The weight of the man's body against yours is both agonizing and reassuring, you must be losing your mind, and he is the reason. His voice, his perfume -a mixture of burnt wood, and something irresistible that you are unable to describe- and the power of his gaze from which you can't take your eyes off. "Come on, my sweet love, say my name." a shiver runs down yuor body, and you arch your back off the bed when you feel the man's tongue running down your throat, and god, you cant to feel more. He is more addicting than any drug you have ever tried.

The window is open, you can feel the cool breeze on your bare body and yet, it feels like you are burning from the inside. Drops of sweat pearl at your hairline. You open your mouth, but no words come out, only an embarrassing moan as the man's teeth pierce through the skin of your neck, but you don't have time to think about the pain because his tongue soothes the wound right away.

Once again, you find yourself unable to move, or to think and the man sits up but you refuse to meet his gaze once more, too afraid to lose yourself in his eyes. To lose yourself completely. "Until I met you, I was convinced that angels were the only creatures capable of such beauty, but you proved me wrong. They should be ashamed to show themselves when you exist, my love."

His voice is suddenly painful, and you feel your heart twist. Maybe it was a trick, because you open your eyes without hesitation, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better. But all you see is a smile. A bloody smile. "If you don't say my name, I'm going to have to force you to say it. It would be a shame to see your pretty tongue being ripped out, don't you think ?" his voice is cold now, as cold as the fingers he wraps around your throat. "Say it !"

Fear, you feel nothing but fear. But what are you afraid of ? To have offended him, or to die ? You do not know. Your breathing is getting slower, and your field of vision is darkening until you can see nothing but darkness, and feel nothing but the cold. Everything is cold, so so cold.

You open your eyes, a sudden coughing fit waking you up fully. Your eyes are full of tears running down your sleep-swollen cheeks and your lips taste metallic, you must have bitten them during the night. You put your hands around your neck where you thought you would still feel the pressure of the stranger's fingers, but nothing.

Your lungs are burning, and you sit up to catch your breath. It's long, and rather difficult but you get there. The room is only illuminated by the rays of sunshine passing through the curtains, and all you see are the small particles of dust flying around the room. Then, your gaze falls on something. Or someone, and a cry broken by your aching throat escape your lips.

As fast as it arrived, the shadow vanishes and you shake your head. You have barely woken up from a terrible dream, your mind is only playing tricks on you, nothing more.

"What the fuck..." you mumble, running your fingers through your hair. You feel the drops of sweat running down your spine, and you don't waste a minute getting out of bed. A cold shower will do you the most good, you think, heading to the only bathroom. Under the jet of water, you think about your dream. The man's touch seemed so real that if you focus you can still feel the burn from his fingers.

It's not the first time you had a dream with this man, it's not the first time he's asked you to say his name, but it's the first time he's become threatening, and scary. You sigh, and come out of the water after rising your hair. In the mirror, you notice a mark on your neck, and you walk closer with a frown. "What ?" the mark vaguely resembles a bite. Right where the man bit you. But it can only be a coincidence, right ? Maybe you did this to yourself during the night.

You come out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around your chest. When you enter the room, you have the unpleasant feeling of being watched. Yet when you turn, you see nothing but the mirror hanging from the door. You are going crazy, there is no other explanation. If your mother was there, she would tell you that it was the fault of your excessive consumption of caffeine.

You sit on the edge of the bed, and the drops of water flowing from the tips of your hair mix with the perspiration. Since when your room has become this hot ? The summer is coming to an end, you should not be suffocating.

You forget all about the heat when you feel something on your shoulder, but once again, when you turn around, nothing. Maybe you should have listened to Kun when he adviced you, and Ten, not to use a ouija board in the apartment without reading the instructions first. Maybe you called something malicious, and you are going to get possessed ? At least the thought helps you calm your heart pouding in your chest before breaking into a fit of giggle. Crazy.

The front door swings open, and you stop laughing immediately. You hear the sound of shoes swinging against the drawer and get up from the bed. You do not have time to go to the door because it opens on Ten, he is breathless. "I'm going to die. It's too hot !" he yells, before falling on the bed. Sweat made his blonde hair stick to his forehead, and you resist the temptation to pull them back. "I think the aircon is broken." you mumble while Ten nods.

"I tried to turn it on this morning, but nothing, so I went to the neighbords and they are having trouble with theirs too. I think it's the end Y/n." you roll your eyes, biting your lower lip. "By the way, did you bring someone back last night ?" he asks, sitting up on his elbows.

"What ? Of course not!" one of the rules of the roommates is not to bring anyone home without telling the other so that they can find someone to keep them for the night. "Eh, don't like, I heard you talking with someone." you shake your head, you didin't bring anyone back last night.. well not that you remember. "Maybe I was on the phone ?" the question is not for Ten, but for you. Because now that you think about it, you have no memories of the day before.

You came home from work, yes, but the rest ? You do not know. You went to bed, since you woke up in your sheets and in pajamas, but nothing else. "Are you okay ?" Ten asks in a worried voice, and you nod. "Yeah, I think I'm just tired from work." Ten doesn't look convinced, but there is nothing more he can do. "Yeah, well, you should take is slow. Have some rest."

Finally, Ten gets up from the bad and walks out of the bedroom. You take the opportunity to put on light clothes. You could've just stayed naked, but that is not possible with Ten in the apartment. You do not need to go to work today, and with the heat, you don't plan on going out, so you lie in bed, your eyes on the ceiling. You need some explanation about yesterday, about your dream, and the bite mark on your neck, but for now, you also need some rest.

"You know, if you want to see me, you just have to say my name, it's not that hard." the voice is back, and you feel an unpleasant chill going down your spine. You sit up in bed and notices that is is now dark, you must have slept for several hours. You are alone in the room, and yet, the voice sounded so close, as if the man was lying next to you. "Who is here ?" you ask in a trembling voice.

You do not expect any answer, that's why when a small laugh echoes in the room, you stop moving. "You should know that." the voice responds, and you wonder if you aren't just sleeping and having a vivid dream since they seem to be more and more frequent lately. "I've been following you for a while." the voice resumes calmly, and you blink.

"Haven't you ever had the feeling of being watched, of being followed wherever you go ?" you nod. "It's me. It's always been me. I'm always with you. It's my job after all." his work ? You are lost, and he seems to feel it as he picks up. "Say my name, and you'll understand, everything will me so much easier, I promise."

You frown, but why is he so insistent ? You do not even know his damn name. "Are you there because of the ouija board ?" you ask in a small voice, and the laughter that escapes from the void gives you goosebumps. "The ouija board ? My angel, this is only material, you can't call anything through a simple wooden board, especially not me." you suddenly feel stupid for asking the question, but you had to know.

"Your name.." you whisper. "how am I supposed to know it ?" you feel the mattress dips under an invisible weight and you culd up on yourself. "I've told you my name, so many times, but you don't listen. I'll make you remember it this time." you feel a warm breath on your face, and a pression against your lips. But before you can react, the ghostly touch slides down your neck, and the pain is the same as in her previous dream when he bit you. Except this time, it's not pleasure that you feel, but real pain.

"Open your eyes, and you'll have the answer you're looking for." at these words, a sharp pain makes you open your mouth, wide, as if one had just plunged your arm in boiling water. You try to scream but no sound comes out, the pain is too much, you are already losing all of your senses, you can feel your limbs going numb, and once again, the darkness sunrrounds you.

When you open your eyes, you are in bed, and the room is still illuminated by the sun through the curtains. You look at your alarm clock, and notice that you have barely dozed off ten minutes. You rub your eyes, your eyelids are heavy, you have the impression of waking up from a very long nap. It takes a good minute for you to come back to your senses, and when you turn your head, your gaze stops on a mark on your arm.

Not a mark. A name.

A name is like engraved in your flesh on several centimeters. You hiss when you run your fingers over the wounds, it's perfectly healed and yet so painful. You read the name a few times but do not dare to say it out loud, you are afraid of the consequences. You pull yourself out of bed with difficulty and leave the room. You have no choice, you can't keep it to yourself any longer, you need to talk about it, and Ten will have no choice but to listen to you.

You find him in the leaving room, lying on the floor, fanning himself with an old magazine. "Ten.." your voice must be shaky because Ten immediately straightens up, and he stands up when he sees you holding your arm. His first thought is that you fell out of bed and broke your arm, but when he cotices the lines of your skin, he stops. "What is that ?" you shrug, and when he approches, you whine for him not to touch.

"Jae.." you shake your head vigorously; "Don't say it, please." you are ready to beg for him to remain silent, but he shuts his mouth before you have the chance to do so. He takes your free hand and directs you to the sofa when you sit. He takes a seat on the coffee table opposite and looks at the name over and over again. "It's weird." Ten looks calm, unlike you. You are clearly panicking. You heart is hammering in your chest, and soon, you can feel the tears runinng down your cheeks. You didn't even know you were on the verge of crying until now.

"Hey, don't cry, it's fine." Ten whispers, cupping your face in his hands so his eyes meet yours. He reads nothing but confusion and fear. "What's wrong with me Ten ?" your voice breaks his heart, so low and quavering. "Seems to be your.. your guardian ?" you tilt your head, urgning Ten to continue. "Our guardian angel. They manifest themselves when they feel that we need help. But they are here long before, they are always near us to be sure that they can help us even is we cannot see or feel them. Saying their name is the only way to make them appear, but- but it's never like that."

He's talking about the mark on your arm, you know it. Ten had a visit from his guardian angel when he was barely 15, because he needed it, and he doesn't have any irreversible marks on his skin, and he's not traumatized by the experience, unlike you. "Guardian angels aren't meant to hurt you, it's quite the opposite." the more he talks, the more you feel lost. Why you ? What avec you done in your previous life to receive such treatment ? "Maybe there was a mistake, and you got a demon instead of an angel." Ten is kidding, but that simple thought could answer so many of your questions.

"But- but what if it was true ? What is if it was a demon ?" you ask, and Ten shakes his head. "If it was a possibility, don't you think we would know ?" you don't want to think about the possilibities of why you've never heard of this kind of thing, so you sigh, lowering your head. "Until we know more, don't say the name, and try to clear your mind of all this, okay ?" You nod, it's not like you have any other choice. 

The following days are alike for you, except for the growing sensation of being watched and followed wherever you go. You try somehow not to look at your arm, but it's difficult. It's like a magnet. After the fifth day, you walk through the apartment door with a long sigh, it's been a long day. Ten is absent, he warned you that he would spend the evening with some of his childhood friends. Perfect.

You put your things in the bedroom, and you walk to the living room to settle on the sofa. You turn on the television, not to watch it, but to have some backgroun noises, and you look at your arm. What's the worst that could happen ? You shrug, and take a deep breath. "Jaehyun." you whisper, and when you see that nothing is happening, you speak in a louder voice. "Jaehyun."

The television turns off, and the lights flicker around you. You grab a pillow, as if it would help protect yourself in the event of a sudden attack from the stranger. "Jaehyun." you repeat one last time, and a shape begins to materialize in front of the sofa. The man's face is the last to appear, and yes, that's the face you've seen so much in your dreams. He watches you curiously, his head tilted to the side. He doesn't seem to believe that you can finally see him, that you finally called his name.

"You did it, you said my name." he says in a voice that's more softer that what you were expecting and walk over. If the sofa wasn't glued to the wall, you would've gone over it to escape. But when he sees your reaction, he throws both hands in the hair. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to do anything to you." his voice is meant to be comforting, and you get up from the sofa to observe him, not without letting go of your trusty cushion.

"You said if I said your name, I would understand everything. Explain yourself, because I feel like I'm going crazy." Jaehyun feels the weakness in your voice, and he blames himself for it, but he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't stay away from you any longer. Being near you is a vital need for the demon. "Calm down, I'll tell you everything." he sits down on the armchair, his legs crossed like a child. With a nod of his heads, he bids you to take a seat, and you obey.

"I must warn you immediately that I don't have the answer you are looking for. I don't know why you were assigned to a demon, and not an angel." if you had knows that you wouldn't get the answer to the question you deem the most important, you wouldn't have called his name. But you'll listen to him, and you'll see if you can send him back eventually. "All I know is that I've been following you for a very long time, and that I would never hurt you."

The demon has a soft voice, but that doesn't stop you from not believing those words. "You tried to kill me the other day, in my dream." Jaehyun shakes his head, a thin smile on his face. Speaking of his face, you notice that he is very handsome with pretty dimples making him look almost childish. He looks like an angel. "It's not what you think, you had to wake up, and you had to say my name." He gets up, and walks over to you. "I promise you, that will never happen in real life. You are under my protection, and nothing will ever happen to you. "

He was right, nothing happened to you.

When you say nothing happened to you, nothing happened to you at all. Your life was already not very exciting, so with the arrival of the young demon, it became even worse. The boys who dare to approch you are quickly sent away because of Jaehyun who does not seem to appreciate their presence around you. Even Ten doesn't spend as much time with you as he used to, and it hurts.

"Why are you ignoring me ?" you ask, dropping down on the sofa next to Ten who doesn't take his eyes off his phone. He shrugs, and you frown. "Tell me, what did I do wrong ? I miss you." you whisper, and Ten sighs before putting down his phone. Well, hetting his attention is a success, now the conversation. "It's your little dog. He follows you everywhere, it's impossible to have a moment with you without him showing up and threatening to smash my knees."

You shake your head. "What are you talking about ? Jaehyun has never threatened to smash your knees, he is not threatening anyone, he just want to make sure I'm safe." Ten's laughter is cold, and extremely sarcastic. "Please, this is not protection, this is unhealthy possessiveness." Ten sits cross-legged and watches you. "Jaehyun does everything in his power to keep people away from you, Y/n, including me, yet god knows I wouldn ever hurt you."

At the simple mention of his name, the demon appears in the living room. Ten jolts, and winces at the burning smell that seems to follow Jaehyun everywhere he does, but you are used to it. Jaehyun frown as he walks over to the sofa where he looks at the two of you. Seeing you together created something very unpleasant in his chest. Jealousy, yes, that's it. "What is going on ?" he asks, and you are always surprised to hear how much his tone of voice changes when he is not talking to you. From soft and soothing, his voice becomes cold and as sharp as a knife.

"Nothing, nothing is going on !" Ten growns as he gets up from the sofa. He could confront the demon about his behavior, but he doesn't want to do it in front of you. So he walks around him, looking at him with utter disgust, and he locks himself in his room, slamming the door on the way. "Did I do something wrong ?" Jaehyun asks, sitting down next to you, his head tilted. He looks innocent, but he is not, he's so far from being innocent. Even though you've never seen him hurt anyone, you know he's done it before, and can do it at any moment.

Yes, you learned to appreciate Jaehyun, but that doesn't stop you from knowing deep down that demons are up to no good most of the time.

"Ten told me you threatened to harm him." you say, and Jaehyun tenses up, but only for a second before he regains his composure. "What ? But why would I do something like this ! He doesn't like me, he's just looking for a reason to get rid of me." he mumbles, and you do not answer.

"What are you doing ?" Jaehyun's voice startle you, you didn't expect to see him in the bathroom doorway, watching you. "What are you doing here ? Shouldn't you be taking a bath in hell or something ?" Jaehyun is used to that kind of little mean jokes, especially when you are tired, so he choose to not respond. "Are you going out ? Where are we going ?" he asks with the excitement of a child, and you turn to him, shaking your head.

"I'm going out. You stay here." You explain, but it doesn't suit Jaehyun whose expression turns sour. "No, no, I'm coming with you. I can't leave you alone." you sigh. "The goal of a guardian is to give advice, to be sure that we are making the right decisions, not to follow up wherever we go." you mumble. It is not right that Jaehyun is everywhere with you. He has to protect you, yes, you understand tha part, but it's getting too much, he is invasible and you are suffocating.

"I'm not like other guardians." he growls, and you fold your arms accross your chest, looking at the demon's reflection in the mirror. You are too tired to argue. "I'm not asking for you opinion, Jaehyun you stay here while I go out. I don't need to have you glued to my ass."

You will later learn that you should never have said that.

Jaehyun was absent for the following days.

No matter how much you called his name over and over, he never answered. Even the feeling of being followed and watched stopped, and for a moment, you wondered if you had scared the demon away. And you got used to your new daily life very well. You shouldn't have.

Earlier in the evening, you were persuaded by Ten to joing him at a party organized by several of his co-workers to celebrate his promotion. Normally you would've stayed home to red, but tonight, you wanted to have fun. And it is for this reason that you currently find yourself pressed against the wall of a room of which you don't know the owner, kissing a boy of who you are not sure to have understood the name. Joe ? John ? Johnny ? You do not know, you couldn't hear it with the hubbub of the guests and the music.

You close your eyes when you feel the boy's hands slip under your t-shirt. His fingers are cold, which contrasts with your burning skin. "Coming was a great idea." he whispers close to your ear, his warm breath making you shiver softly. His lips slide down your neck for warm, and wet kisses, and you take the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and remode the button that holds his hean in place. With your foot, you slide it down until it falls loose around his ankles, so yuo can have access to the obvious tent in his briefs.

You stroke his cock through the fabric, and you smile as he tenses, his breath hitching against your throat. Your mouth open with a loud moan when you feel Johnny's teeth dig nto the skin between your neck and shoulder. The pain is extremely pleasant, and you press harder against his dick. "You are so hot." you smile, and play with the waistband of his brieds, snapping it against the skin of his hip. "So I've been told."

Soon, Johnny's lips are back on yours, and you can taste the alcohol he drank earlier, and he you had been drinking more than you had smoked, you would find it nice, but for now, the mix is pretty disgusting. Johnny breaks the kiss to catch his breath, and you looks into his eyes as you slowly pulls down his underwear. You frown when he opens his eyes wide, and before you can move, he is thrown back and slumped against the opposite wall.

"What the fuck!" you whisper when your gaze lands on Jaehyun. His eyes have nothing beautiful anymore, they are dark and frightening, like in your dreams. His breathing his heavy and rapid, he is enraged, you call feel it in the tense atmosphere of the room. "Jaehyun, what have you done !" you say when you finally come out of your torpor. As if he had just noticed your presence, Jaehyun turns to you and.. and he smiles. "I'm protecting you, my love."

"He was not hurting me !" you walk around the demon to join Johnny whose eyes are closed. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, you can see the blood streaming down his forehead. "Hey, hey, can you hear me ?" you asks. You are about to put your hand on him to shake him when Jaehyun grabs your wrist to force you on your feet. "He was going to hurt you, I felt it!" he says.

You try to extricate yourself from his grip, but he's much stronger. He pulls you against his chest, the heat emanating from his skin is strong, and he puts an arm around your waist to make you you do not move. "You can't trust them, Y/n, I'm the only one who'll never hurt you." His lips are close to yours, and like his body, his breath his hot.

Love ? You didn't know that a demon was capable of feeling anything like love. And why you ? What do you have more than other humans ? "Do you remember what I told you in your dream ?" He asks and you tilt your head, trying to remember. "I told you that I would show you wonders that humans can only dream of. And I will, but for that, you have to stay with me. You have to trust me."

You bite the inside of your cheek. Jaehyun is the dream boy. And when he behaves like a random human, you forget everything. But it is not an average boy you have in front of you, no, it's a demon, and yet..

"Is it true ?" you ask, and he frowns. "Do you really love me ?" he nods. "I love you, more than anyone will ever be able to love you." when he feels your fingers on his face, he smiles so fondly that he looks like a real angel. After all, demons are angels too, they just chose to follow a different god, you think.

"What are we going to do ?" you ask, glancing down at Johnny's limp body and Jaehyun sighs, annoyed at being cut off during such an intimate moment he's been waiting for. "I'll take care of it, you should go home." finally, he releases his hold on your waist, and you take a step back. You retrive your jacket that Johnny had thrown on the bed on entering the room, and you turn one last time when you open the door.

Jaehyun is hunched over Johnny's body, and if you weren't so confused by the whole situation and inebriated, you could swear you saw a red glow shine in the demon's eyes. You shake your head, and leave, closing the door behind you. In the hallway, you meet a guest who is about to open the bedroom door. "If I were you, I wouldn't go in there. Someone threw up, it's not pretty." the person, a boy with long blond hair growls and turns around. "Fuck, I saw no one in the fucking bedrooms."

You find Ten in the crowd, glass in hand, so you make you way to your roommate. You put a hand on his shoulder and lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm not feeling well, I'm going home." he nods, before answering. "You want me to come with you ?" you refuse, explaining that it was his evening, he should take advantage of it and have fun. You promise to send him a message when you get home, and with that, you leave the house.

You take a deep breath when you step outside. The air is cold, and rain is starting to fall, just what you needed to cool your burning skin. You look at Ten's car parked in the driveway, and sigh when you realize you'll have to walk.

It is while walking in a dark alley of the city that you begin to regret the sensation of being watched from afar that Jaehyun gives you, because even if you have never admitted it, you feel safe. But now, you can't feel a thing, and you keep looking over your shoulder to make sure you are not being followed. But it must be your lucky day, because you arrive in front of your apartment in one piece, without having had any altercation with a drunk person.

The partment is empty, and silent.

You walk to the bedroom, and get rid of your wet clothes that smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. You pull on a hoodie you find on the back of your office chair, and sit on the edge of your bed. All alone with your thoughts, you force yourself not to think of Johnny, and his inert body. You don't even know if he was still alive when you left, and what will Jaehyun do ? Is he going to call an ambulance ? Pass it off as an alcohol-related accident ?

You start to shake, your eyes filling with tears, you shouldn't have left, you should have helped Johnny. A sob escapes your lips, and it is at this precise moment that you feel a touch on your hands which are placed on your thighs. The contact is warm, and though you are still alone, you know it's Jaehyun. It's always Jaehyun.

"Jaehyun ?" you ask in a small voice, and you expect him to appear, but the touch on your hands disappears. After several unanswered attempts, you give up and slip under the blanket. You fall asleep in a few minutes, lulled by the sounds of the traffic outside.

You open your eyes when you hear movement near you. A form is watching over you next to the bed. "Jaehyun". you whisper, and feel a warm hand on your cheek. "You came back." your voice is full of sleep, and you push yourself on the side to make room for the demon. You have never invited him to bed, so he hesitates for a moment before lying down next to you. You lay your head on Jaehyun's chest. Is it because of the fatigue ? Alcohol ? Or the heat he gives off ? You don't know. You apprently lose the power of knowledge when the demon is around.

You feel the demon tighten, so you put a hand on his stomach. "I thought you weren't coming back, like the last few days." Jaehyun has to bend down to hear your voice, it's so low, and when he understands, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry I didn't come back." you shrug looking up at him. "I missed you, that's all."

The demon chuckles, and runs his thumb over your lower lip. "Pretty mouth tells dirty lies." he whispers, and you shake your head, sitting up. "You do not believe me ?" his lack of response is sufficient for you to understand.

You do something you never thought you would do, you kiss him softly. But the contact is quickly broken by Jaehyun who watches you in the half-light, incredulous. "Why did you do that ?" you sigh, you don't know yourself, but you still open your mouth. "You love me, right ? More than anyone can ever love me ?" when he nods, you kiss him once more, and he responds this time. If at the beginning the kiss was slow and gentle, it become a little more passionate, more feverish.

"Come on, you need to sleep, you've had a hell of a day." Jaehyun whispers against your lips, and you sigh. You lie down appropriately, and Jaehyun pulls you to his chest. It's strange to hear a heart beat in the chest of a demon, but you close your eyes. Yes, you had an exhausting day.

After this evening, the relationship between you and your demon changed considerably. If before you did everything possible to get rid of him, now you no longer seem capable to go a minute without him near you. Whether it's by being there, or just a reassuring presence. And Jaehyun is delighted. That's what he always wanted, to be there for you, and with you as much as he wants. For the first time since he first saw you, he no longer feels that nasty pressure in his chest when he sees you getting close to a boy, or when he can't be with you. He feels light, and free.

This morning, when he wakes up, he feels a weight on his hips. He opens his eyes groaning at the bright light in the room, but when his gaze lands on you, he smiles. He puts his hands on your waist, and you lean in to kiss him. Jaehyun wonders how you always tastes sweet, but he is not complaining, it's enjoyable, and addicting. Everything is addicting when it comes to you.

"What did I do to deserve such a sweet treat ?" he asks after breaking the kiss, and he chuckles softly when you case his lips with a pout. "You have to answer my question first if you want another treat." Jaehyun's hands slide under your sleeping shirt, and you shiver slightly. "Can you still manipulate my dreams ?" the demon remains silent for a while, but his smile is worth a thousand words. "Why, did you dream of something special ?" he asks, and you bite your bottom lip.

You lean down, nestling your face in the crook of his neck. He smells like sleep, and you. "I dreamed that you made me scream your name. That you kept telling me that I was yours, and that you would do everything in you power to stay close to me."

Jaehyun nods every now and then, and his smile growns. It's almost carnivorous the way he smiles. "That's exactly what I would do, if I could manipulate your dreams, of course." he answers, and you sit up. "Oh, so you didn't ?" he shakes his head, and you roll your eyes. You know he is lying, so you intend to make him pay. It is extremely unpleasant and frustrating to wake up from a wet dream. You buck your hips, and the demon groans weakly.

He opens his eyes, and you can see lust growing in that dark and frightening void. "If you haven't manipulated my dream, maybe you should show me if you are able to do that in real life." he smirks, and flip you onto the bed of hover over you. You laugh softly, pressing your hand to your mouth, it's too early to wake up Ten. "That's what we're not going to do." Jaehyun whispers, grabbing your wrist to pull it off your mouth. "I want to hear you. I want to hear every sound you make, my love."

He places a tender kiss on your lips, and he slides his lips down your neck. He repeatedly bites the skin of your collarbone, and then your throat. He loves your throat for some reason. Your hands rest in Jaehyun's hair, and when he looks up to ask permission to remove the t-shirt he's been playing with the hem of, you nod. The piece of tissue ends up on the floor. He kisses your chest, and he slowly moves down to your stomach, never lifting his lips from your hot skin.

He lowers the waistband of your pants, and he kisses your hips, he's soft, so far from what you have been expecting. You squirm with each of his kisses, and you feel so wet, it's embarrassing. "Can I ?" he asks, and you nod vigorously. He laughs at your eagerness, and he pulls down your pants and panties and the same time. They join your shirt on the floor. You suddenly feel very shy, and all you want is to curl up. Jaehyun myst feel the change in your behavior because he looks up.

"Do you want us to stop ?" you shake your head, and urge him to come back up, which he does immediately. When he kisses you, you circle his waist with your legs, your hands already working to remove his pants. He's already half hard, and you lick his lips. You could make this last for hours, but you really need to have him inside of you as soon as possible. Hell foreplay.

"You are so perfect." he whispers, and you slide your hand over his cock. You use the precum that has built up on the tip to stroke it slowly. Jaehyun lets his head fall in the crook of your neck, and his hot breath hits against your shivering skin. You're already sweating, and so is Jaehyun, yet you haven't done anything. You continue the movements of your hand until he is completely hard, following one of the veins with the tip of your index, and it is the turn of the demon's hand to find itself between your thighs. You bite Jaehyun's lips as his fingers spread your folds to collect the slick on the pad of his fingers.

For a moment -much too short- he plays with your clit with the tips of his fingers, and soon one of them is rubbing against your hole. Slowly, far too gently, he eases his first finger inside, and you moan weakly. "Come on, please .." you whisper, you do not know what you're asking for, but your brain is already turning into mush. It's Jaehyun's fault, his warmth, his scent, his hands, everything. He adds a second finger, then moves slowly back and forth, watching for any of your reactions.

When he crooks his fingers, and he reaches that little bundle of nerves that makes you roll your eyes and moan his name, he adds a third finger, and he speeds up, his thumb on your clit. "Stop stop, it's enough." you mumble, and Jaehyun withdraws his fingers. You whine at the feeling of emptiness, but is soon replaced by the head of Jaehyun's cock. He spits into his hand to lubricate his cock before returning to his original position. He puts his hands on either side of your face, caging you. And slowly, very slowly, he eases himself inside.

"You are so tight." you close your eyes, arching your back off the bed when he bottoms out you feel the bones of his hips flush against your ass, and you refrain from not whining to make him move. You spent the past few weeks blatantly ignoring Jaehyun, and now you are acting like you're going to die if he doesn't fuck you within a minute. "Move, please."

Jaehyun pulls out until only the head is still inside, and he snaps his hips. "Oh fuck." he growls. His voice is deep, and sultry, and it makes your head spin. You wrap your arms around his neck, and pulls his face to yours for a long kiss, it's only teeth and tongue but you don't care. The pace of his thrusts is fast, and you grip Jaehyun's hair between your fingers. He moans lowly at the pain, and it's a sound you don't think you can get enough of.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun ..” you mewl when he snaps his hips a little harder. You let your legs drop from around his waist, and you already feel that familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach. You want to reach your climax as much as you want this moment to last forever. You grip his biceps, and when he gives a rather deep thrust, you dig your nails into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Black blood.

Jaehyun curses under his breath, and you close your eyes. You who didn't want to wake Ten up know it was a waste of time, between your moans, Jaehyun's growls and the bed banging against the wall. Poor guy, he might give you a piece of his mind later, but you don't have time to think about it, too busy getting lost in pleasure. His rhythm is erratic, he must be close to his orgasm too.

"Are you going to cum for me, my princess?" he asks, and you nod. Jaehyun bites the skin of your neck, once more, and that's enough to make you black out. You see nothing, and hears nothing more than the beating of your heart and Jaehyun saying over and over that you are his, and only his. "I will never let anyone approach or hurt you. Mine."

When you regain consciousness Jaehyun is still inside you, but his movements are slow, coming down from his high. Your thighs are shaking, and you are sticky with sweat. Jaehyun lies on top of you, being careful not to crush you with his weight, and you run your hands on his back to stroke his burning skin. "It was good, so good." you whisper and he nods.

You remain silent, both far too busy coming back on earth after a mindblowing orgasm.

"I hate you !" the voice comes from the next room, Ten's. And you look at each other before laughing softly. Jaehyun comes out, and you scrunch your nose up at the feeling of emptiness, and at the sticky cum sliding down your thighs. "I'm tired." you mumble in a sleepy voice. You do not know what Jaehyun does next, all you know is that when you open your eyes a little later, Jaehyun is behind you, your legs are tangled, and his breathing is regular. You go back to sleep peacefully after that.

"You fucked a demon."

This is not what you expected when you left your room this morning. Your legs are numb, and your neck is painful from Jaehyun's many bites. Ten is on the couch, his laptop poised precariously in his lap. "I fucked a demon." you repeat, sitting down next to him.

"I didn't think you could fall so low." he says with a sigh, and you turn your gaze to Ten with a frown. You have had one-night stands with various kind of students students, and he never had the nerve to make that kind of comment. It's strange coming from Ten, but after all he's right, he's a demon, not just some stupid college student who sells drugs to pay for his porn's subscriptions.

"Oh, don't be like that Ten." you sigh, and he shrugs, refocusing on his computer. After a minute or two, you nudge him to get his attention. "Have you heard from Johnny?" you ask, suddenly curious about the condition of the poor boy who was unlucky enough to run into Jaehyun.

"Johnny? Why? Did you see him somewhere?" Ten puts his computer on the coffee table, and he turns to you. He's not making fun of you, he's serious when he talks. "What do you mean ?" you ask, trying to control the tremors in your voice. "No one has seen Johnny since the party."

The news hits you like a slap in the face, you thought he would be on his feet with a few missing memories, not that he would be actually missing. You get up from the couch, and without a word for Ten, you head for the bedroom. Jaehyun is still sleeping, so you pick up a pillow and swings it over him.

"Jaehyun, wake up!" it takes him several minutes to open his eyes, frowning. After a night like the one you had just spent, he expected a sweet awakening, and a few kisses, not being hit with a pillow. "What? What's going on?" you cross your arms against your chest. "Johnny. What have you done to Johnny? No one's seen him since..since the party!"

Jaehyun sits up, resting his back against the headboard. He rubs his eyes, and he takes his sweet time waking up before opening his mouth. "I did the right thing." if he thinks you are going to be satisfied with that answer, he is wrong. "The right thing? The right thing was to call an ambulance, not make him disappear! Where is he?" your voice is more urgent but you have to be silent so as not to attract Ten's attention.

"Why are you so interested in that?" he asks in a cold, sharp voice. He gets up from the bed with a smooth and graceful movement, and he walks towards you until you are locked between his body and the wall. "Do you like him? Is that why?" you shake your head, avoiding his threatening gaze. "Don't say such things! I don't like him, I just want to know why you did that!"

A low growl is heard, and if you could, you would try to become one with the wall. You squeak when Jaehyun's fingers rest around your throat. He takes a step forward, and he's so close that you can feel his breath against your lips. "You're mine, Y/n, I did what it took to keep him from coming back. And I would do it again. Again, and again. Until you figure out you don't need nobody. You only need me, do you understand me correctly? "

You grab his wrist as his grip tightens around your throat. You are already starting to feel the burning in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. "Jaehyun .. please I didn't mean to hurt you." your voice is weak, and so trembling that you wonder if he understood a single word of what you just said. "Mine." he growls before loosening his hold on your throat. You slide down the wall, tears streaming freely down your cheeks. You takes a long and difficult breath, it's extremely painful.

When you look up, Jaehyun is gone.

You feel stupid. You feel so silly for thinking that Jaehyun really loved you, and that you too could love him back. But you were wrong. It's not love Jaehyun has for you, it's an awful obsession. He doesn't show you what true love is, he manipulates you every day. And he knows how to do it, since you fell into his arms so easily after he ... after he killed Johnny.

Now that you have taken a step back, you realise that you should have been more vigilant, that you should have stayed with Johnny, and called someone yourself. You don't know what suddenly happened for you to give yourself to Jaehyun. Maybe that would have kept your life from turning into hell.

Jaehyun has made it his personal mission to make your life hell on earth.

He's always there, behind you, watching you rear, making sure no one is approaching you. When someone dares to approach you, you find yourself with blood on your clothes, and a corpse at your feet. Sad to say, but after a while you are no longer surprised. You no longer have nightmares, since nothing can be worse than your life.

Today is no different.

You woke up in Jaehyun's arms, feeling like you chest was crushed in a vise. Feeling his breath against the back of your neck is a sensation that you can't stand anymore. His hands give you chills when you thinks of all the blood they have shed. His smile is no longer angelic. And his laugh? You hear it everywhere you go. You can't do that anymore.

Lucky for you, Ten is the only person he hasn't touched yet. But for how long ? Ten is also the only person who can keep you grounded. Whenever he sees you falling back into your bad habit of letting yourself be bewitched by Jaehyun's sweet words, he is there to slap some sense into you, to remind you that you are better than that. If Ten wasn't there, you do not know where you would be.

When Jaehyun's grip on your waist loosens, you take the opportunity to slip out of bed. You take the clothes you had prepared the day before and leave the room. In the bathroom, you take a shower to get rid of the invisible dirt you feel every time Jaehyun puts his hands on you. You get dressed, and you find Ten in the kitchen. He's drinking a cup of coffee, and when he sees your face, he hands you his cup. You need it more than him.

"Are you sure ?" he asks, and you nod. Yes, you are sure, you have no other choice. "You can count on me." you walk up to Ten and places a kiss on his cheek, then turns on your heels. You put on your shoes, and after taking a long breath, you leave the apartment. You're not working today, otherwise you should have been planning this for another day.

When Jaehyun wakes up, he is surprised to be alone. The place next to him is cold, which means that you were long gone. He stands up, and he leaves the room. He searches the apartment, but all he finds is Ten and the disapproving look on his face. "Where is she ?" he asks and Ten shrugs. "She said she had to see a co-worker." that's enough to put Jaehyun in pure rage. Ten swallows hard as Jaehyun disappears, leaving behind that sickening smell of burning that he cannot get rid of. This is time for him to do something.

Doyoung is already waiting in front of the cafe when you arrive, and he smiles when he sees you. You approache, and you accept the hug he offers you. He's noticed that you haven't been yourself lately, and while he doesn't know the real reason behind this change in behavior, he's ready to help. Poor thing.

"You look tired." he says, and you sigh. You could cry, and fall into Doyoung's arms if you wanted to, but you can't, not now. "I am. Do you mind if we have coffee at my place? Ten is at work." he nods, of course he doesn't mind. You take his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. This feeling is now foreign to you who are used to the constant heat of Jaehyun's body, so feeling Doyoung's cold fingers is like comfort to you. Normality still exists.

The walk to the apartment is short. You make conversation with Doyoung who is completely oblivious to what is happening. You feel it. You feel Jaehyun behind you. You feel the holes he drills in your back with his gaze. You could even hear his heartbeat if you wanted to, heart ready to come out of his chest.

"After you." he says, like a gentleman, when you open the front door of the apartment. The apartment is empty, as you thought. Kind of. You walk towards the living room after letting go of Doyoung's hand, and you instantly miss the contact. You crave normal physical contact from a human being, it's crazy. "You want some coffee ?" he nods.

You walk to the kitchen, your hands resting on the edge of the counter, and you breathe slowly. You are ready to throw up, you are so nervous. Immediately, you find yourself leaning forward on the counter, one hand resting on you head to keep you from moving. "What do you think you're doing?" you've never heard Jaehyun be so threatening, yet he has been in the recent weeks. It's the last straw for him.

"I'm not doing anything Jaehyun, please let me go." the countertop tile is cold against your cheek, but it helps you keep your head in check. "You're really trying to make me angry! You haven't understood yet that you don't need anyone but me. I'm sure it's Ten, I should have gotten rid of him a long time ago. He's the one keeping you away from me." he releases the pressure on your head, and he walks to the living room.

When Doyoung's gaze lands on Jaehyun, he frowns. He certainly didn't expect the boy to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up to him. "She's mine." the rest is a mix of screams and blood splashing on the walls. You watch the scene, and you don't move. You cry, you can't help it, and a sob escapes your lips when Doyoung's gaze meets yours one last time. "I'm sorry." you articulate. You had no other choice.

Jaehyun drops Doyoung's limp body, and he turns to you. He is about to take a step forward when he finds himself blocked by an invisible force field. "What is happening ?" he growls. He tries to move, but he is unable to come out of this small circle protected by something that is drawing a lot of energy from him.

"It's the only solution, Jaehyun." you murmur, voice broken by another sob. You look at the ground, and Jaehyun follows your gaze. He was so angry that he hadn't noticed the absence of the coffee table in the living room, and the white chalk drawing on the dark wood floor. A pentacle was drawn there by Ten when you went out to retrieve your victim. "Why why !" he screams, and you take a step back.

You know he can't reach you, you spent hours researching it, the best way to trap a demon, and yet you can't help but feel your organs tighten with fear. "I can't do this anymore, Jaehyun." Jaehyun punches his fists against the invisible force field, and the more he does so, the redder his eyes turn. If you get close, you're sure you could see the flames of the underworld reflecting.

"I love you, Y/n! I love you more than .." he starts, but you cut him off. "Yes, more than anyone will ever be able to love me. But that's not love, Jaehyun." you can't describe the anger you reads on the demon's face. "I've killed for you baby, who else could say that?" he's using a nickname you liked for a while, but that only reinforces your decision. "Killing for me wasn't the best way to prove me your love."

"I killed an angel for you! I killed an angel to be with you!" you open your eyes wide to his words. "You- you killed my guardian angel." he nods, a proud expression on his demonic face. So everything that happened was not because of a mistake, but because Jaehyun wanted to be with you. Because he needed to be near you. "You are a monster."

This is the obvious. Jaehyun laughs and you feel your blood boiling inside of you. "Ten, you can come, it's okay." The apartment was not really empty, Ten was hiding in his room waiting for the signal. He stops in front of Jaehyun, and he can't help but smile when he sees that the demon can't reach him. "Oh, the poor little demon can't do anything, that's too bad." you roll your eyes, of course Ten was going to tease him.

It is your turn to approach the pentacle on the ground, and Jaehyun. Despite all the anger in his eyes, you can also see how much love he has for you. And you know that no one can ever love you as much as he does, that's right. But you don't mind, you don't need love like that. You need pure love that will never hurt you. If you can ever trust someone after that.

"You know, for a while, I really thought I could love you, Jaehyun." you explain in a tender voice. "But you're nothing but a monster, you don't deserve to be loved. And you don't deserve to love. At least here you won't hurt anyone anymore." you look at the demon whose face break into something you can't explain, an expression you had never seen on him. It looks like..understanding, pain, and mixed with that natural anger. It's the last time you'll ever see this face, and deep down, it hurts, but it's for the better. You leave the living room.

Ten is in front of the door, with the suitcases you packed the day before. You are ready to start a new life, far from here, far from Jaehyun and the blood he shed in this city of doom. You open the door, and you and Ten walk out of the apartment. The last thing you hear before the elevator door closes are Jaehyun's screams. He is begging for release, begging for forgiveness, promises he can never keep.

"It's you and me against the world, once again." Ten says, and he takes you hand. Yes, it's just the two of you now. You, and a trapped demon.

Trapped, but for how long ?

[vizowrites]

“We” vs “Me”| or “Why BlitzStrike Works So Well For Me But Stolitz [as of episode 6].....Doesn’t”

Alright my Loves, so I said that I was going to talk in further detail about my feelings regarding Stolas and the multi-layered portrayal of his relationship with Blitz in the new episode, and today’s the day where that happens!!  First of all, though, before I really get into my feelings about things, I want to just make it ABUNDANTLY clear that I’m not trying to sway anyone from one side to the other, or trying to shame anyone for shipping two fictional characters.  I’m fully in the boat that you are completely entitled to ship whoever you want, but I also think it’s wise to at least be able to recognize the faults and flaws in a pairing--and especially to be able to recognize them in the context of an IRL relationship.  In this analysis in particular, I’m specifically focusing on these two relationships within the realm of the Helluva Boss universe [......Hell] and within the specific context of their characters as they’ve been portrayed in the show thus far.  And, my biggest disclaimer of all: I’m doing this for no other reason than I felt like putting my jumbled thoughts together into a cohesive post so that they don’t have to stay bouncing and buzzing around in my head.  Please keep that in mind that this is just pure personal opinion and interpretation before anyone comes at me with torches and pitchforks.  <3 <3 

SO WITH THAT LONG ASS DISCLAIMER OUT OF THE WAY 

Let’s finally get to the good stuff.  And the not so good stuff.  :D

So I don’t think it’s a surprise to anyone who follows me here that I’m a huge BlitzStrike fan.  What I think fewer people know is that when I first entered the fandom a few months ago, I actually was on board the Stolitz train like so many others that I’ve met here in the fandom.  Naturally Stolitz was the first major pairing I was introduced to, and I did find both the characters of Blitz and Stolas incredibly interesting and compelling in their own rights AND saw the potential in how they could really come to grow into one hell of a relationshp over time.  I was honestly really excited to see it happen, too.  

And then I watched Episode 5 [still my favorite episode, btw] for the first time and had this sudden question hit me like a truck that even now is still relentlessly burning in the back of my mind because I still haven’t found a legitimate answer for it: Why in the FUCK wasn’t Blitz falling head-over-heels in attraction to Striker throughout this fucking episode??

And I don’t mean that in a “They’re so hot and I ship them now why didn’t they get together?? DX DX” kind of way--I mean that in the genuinely perplexed “I don’t understand based on what has been presented to me thus far about Blitz as a character and the storyline overall why he’s reacting so nonchalantly to this whole thing”.  To Note: This is me wondering this from the context of what’s in the show itself, not from any extra fan materials like the Instas or Twitter or just straight up knowing that the most likely answer is that there are people on the creative team that ship Stolitz really hard and realistically wouldn’t have probably written Blitz as being attracted to Striker because that would just be--to quote Jack Sparrow--blowing holes in their own ship.  No, this is me disregarding ALL of that and trying to rationalize this with myself from the perspective of a fan whose entire knowledge of the show and its characters comes exclusively from what’s in the episodes themselves.  .....And that’s where I just can’t find my answer, except for the Stolitz positive “He’s not attracted to Striker because he’s in love with Stolas” answer.  Which really doesn’t even feel like a satisfying answer, because the entire vibe I’ve gotten from Stolitz in the show has just felt.....strangely.....off.  Like, the framework is there and the elements are there, but I’d felt as though they had so far to go still that it would be entire SEASONS before they got there.    

And THEN the new episode [Episode 6] came out and I’d heard a handful of fans going crazy because the show was finally addressing Stolitz in full, and I thought to myself, “Well, maybe if the show really is going to go with saying that the reason Blitz wasn’t interested in Striker is because he’s in love with Stolas.....sure.  I’m curious to see how they finally establish it in an episode, especially since there’s only two more episodes left in the entire first season.”  And then I watched the episode.  And then it hit me why Stolitz just does not do a damn thing for me but BlitzStrike does despite the fact that we’ve had 4/6 episodes [5/7 if you count the Pilot] of Stolitz but only 1/6 [1/7] of potential--not even canonical--BlitzStrike:

When Striker talks about Blitz, or interacts with Blitz, he always talks about them as a “we”.  As a team.  A partnership.  OR he just straight up puts the entire focus on Blitz and his accomplishments and keeps himself out of it entirely.

When Stolas talks about Blitz, he always talks about them within the context of “me”--of himself--of what Blitz does or should do for him.  Even here in episode 6, in the most “selfless” instance we’ve seen yet, where he does ask about Blitz’s safety first BEFORE going right back into how Blitz’s actions affect him and what Blitz should be doing in response for him.  Stolas’s focus is always automatically set to himself--and even when it comes to the people he supposedly loves the most.  

To explain what I mean here, let me give some examples directly from the show itself, starting with the Stolas side of things: 

Episode 1

Blitz, in the middle of trying to hide so much that he actually clamps both of his hands over his mouth just to muffle the sound of his own breathing, knowing damn well that this psychotic bitch who already shot him once won’t hesitate to do it again if she finds him.....gets a call from Stolas.  Stolas, who we clearly see from his leisurely hang out time in his bubble bath, is literally watching this happen and is fully aware that calling Blitz right then was potentially putting him in danger. But what does he say when he gets Blitz on the phone?  He offers--not help--but Blitz the use of his book in exchange for monthly sex.  Stolas literally uses Blitz’s peril as leverage here--consciously or not, though given the fact that he knows the situation at hand, I’d find it very hard to argue that he didn’t do this on purpose--just to get him to agree to be his bootycall until further notice.  

Stolas not only doesn’t lift a finger to help Blitz once in all of this--even at the moment where he and Millie are about to be shot in the face--but instead continues to stay on the phone talking about all of the things he wants for their upcoming future rendezvous.  He already got exactly what he wanted out of this and he still just continues to go for more for himself.

Episode 2

.....There are honestly so many fucked up things that happen here as far as Stolas and his relationship with Blitz goes but honestly the thing I want to draw the MOST attention to is actually Stolas’s storyline with his daughter, Octavia.  I know it’s a little left field, but bear with me--this is actually something I want to use as comparison for Stolas’s relationship to Blitz as we go along:

When Stolas first decides that he’s going to take his daughter to Loo Loo Land, he does so while completey setting aside the fact that she doesn’t want to go.  He just offers her assurances that it’s going to be so much fun because he remembers that she loved it so much when she was a little girl--effectively putting his memory above her wishes even as she’s sitting right there and telling him that she doesn’t enjoy the idea of going now.  

Stolas doesn’t actually notice just how uncomfortable he’s making Octavia throuhought their entire trip by spending his time sexually harassing paying more attention to Blitz than he is trying to cheer her up.  This tells me that Stolas--though I do believe he genuinely wanted to do something to make her happy--still wasn’t able to completely overcome his own self-centered tendencies at first even when it’s for her.  And this is the person that Stolas loves more than anyone or anything else in the entire world. It still wasn’t enough.

It’s only when Octavia runs off and completely breaks down that Stolas finally gets the much needed slap-to-the-face of reality to understand just what he’s putting his daughter through--and, for the first time in the entire show, he actually puts someone else’s needs and well being above himself.  It’s the one solid honest display of love that we see from Stolas in the entire show--and it’s how we as the audience come to learn that that’s how Stolas shows that he loves someone: When he puts their needs above his own with no strings attached or expectations of something in return.  A true selfless act just because he loves them.  **Keep in mind the parallel of Stolas carrying Octavia out of Loo Loo Land at the end, and how it compares to Stolas carrying Blitz out of D.H.O.R.K.S headquarters.

Episode 5

The. Fucking. Cigarette.  I had no idea that something so small and quick would be able to infuriate me as much as it did, but the fact that Blitz used the post sex cigarette to free Stolas from his wrist bondage but then Stolas turned around and put the cigarette out on Blitz’s horn which is literally a part of Blitz’s body just.....honestly it sums up exactly what I’m trying to get across in this entire huge ass post: Stolas only ever thinks of himself first and anything pertaining to anyone else just doesn’t cross his mind at all unless you blatantly put it there in front of his face.  And the fact that he’s still at this point with Blitz all the way here in Episode 5 is not.....promising for their relationship.

The fact that Stolas literally cannot stop himself from calling Blitz “Blitzy” or talking to him in such a condescending way no matter how frustrated Blitz gets and how many times he asks him to stop.  I just--how is that supposed to be interpreted as someone talking to a person that they love?  There’s no respect or dignity given to Blitz at all on Stolas’s part, and the fact that it seems to be presented as a “Oh teehee it’s just their cute couple thing” is just.....I really, really don’t like that.  It also doesn’t match with the Stolas in the very next episode which I quite frankly think is because the creators have been listening to the feedback from fans and were like “We need to SHOW THEM that Stolas actually does speak to Blitz respectfully!!” but that’s just my personal opinion there and, also, it still didn’t happen.  

Episode 6 

Keeping in mind that THIS is finally the episode where we see Stolas actually save Blitz from danger and demonstrate even the slightest inclination towards his well-being.....I think that honestly makes the next few things here even more fucked up

First and foremost: “WE”.  The second after Stolas asks if Blitz is alright and gets the assurance that he is, he roughly grabs his cheek and points out that “If you get in trouble, I get in trouble!  WE don’t want that”.  The fact that this is the first time that Stolas ever talks about Blitz in the context of “we”--when really what he’s really saying is that him [Stolas] getting in trouble is going to be a bad thing for all of them--is just.....so, so disappointing.  At least with this I could hope that perhaps the idea here is that Stolas is genuinely afraid that if he gets in trouble, he won’t be able to protect Blitz from the undoubtedly much worse trouble that he would be in as an imp, but still.  The fact that Stolas immediately reverts back to his self-centered perspective so quickly after supposedly being so worried about Blitz’s wellbeing, really makes it seem as though it’s just his own ass that he’s trying to protect.  And that.....isn’t  exactly what I’d been expecting from “the episode that confirms Stolitz is canon” feedback I’d been hearing.

"Am I going to get ANY thank you for the rescue Bltizy?”  This for me was kind of what actually lead to me having this whole epiphany over Stolas’s selfish perspective in the first place.  I realized that even here--even when he’s just been the most “romantic” towards Blitz that he’s ever been in any previous episodes up until now [and yes this shift in his character was incredibly jarring for me because of that]--Stolas still goes right back to thinking about what he’s going to get out of this now that he knows Blitz is safe.  Let’s take this back to that thing I was saying about Episode 2 and comparing how Stolas rescued Octavia and how he rescues Blitz.  Obviously they’re going to be different because it’s Stolas’s daughter vs his hook up BUT just think about where the focus is for Stolas in both of these scenes.  With Octavia, Stolas is entirely focused on making things up to her--taking her to do something she wants to do--even if it’s something that he himself doesn’t fully understand or isn’t fully into.  That doesn’t matter though, because the entire point is that he’s doing something just for her.  It doesn’t have to be about him.  But now go back to the scene where Stolas is carrying Blitz out of the room.  What does he do?  Ask what Blitz is going to do for him.  That just takes the idea that this scene was a confirmation of their love and throws it right out the window.  Stolas--as we’ve been shown before--would never ask for something in return from someone that he actually loves.  

Now let’s take a look at the one and only episode we have of Striker and Blitz interacting together, with an honorary shout out at hallucination!Striker’s appearance in Episode 6: 

Episode 5: 

Striker knows Blitz’s name.....and he uses it.  He’s literally the ONLY other character that we’ve seen so far refer to Blitz as “Blitz” instead of “Blitzo” or “Blitzy” by someone who wasn’t a member of I.M.P..  Aka someone who wasn’t a member of Blitz’s family.  He shows Blitz respect at that basest level, and only builds on that from there going forward.

Striker first recognizes Blitz for being “the bold imp that started his own killin’ biz”.  Not his hotness, not his skills in the Harvest Moon games because at that point he hasn’t seen them yet.....but for his accomplishment in starting up his own successful business down in Hell.  He treats it as an accomplishment.  With the kind of respect that comes with acknowledging another person for their accomplishments.  Right there, within two seconds of meeting him, Striker demonstrates more respect for Blitz than Stolas has yet to do in the entire show.

The Harvest Moon Festival Games.  Now this is something I find fascinating to think about from Striker’s perspective in particular.  We as the audience are shown pretty early on that Striker has a strong desire to be the one who comes out on top.  He likes the idea of being superior and he openly relishes in the praise and attention he gets for being better than everybody else.  ....Except Blitz.  When they tie in the games, Striker doesn’t seem bothered with sharing the spotlight with him at all.  If anything, he--again--respects just how skilled Blitz is in rightfully earning his place beside him on the stage.  That, to me, is HUGE.  I’m not going to go so far as to say that Striker necessarily sees them as equals because I think that might be going a bit too far for his ego but he does still fully acknowledge that Blitz is in the same general class as him: that is to say, better than most.  Worthy of the same kind of acknowledgement and praise that Striker gets.  I literally can’t get over just how big of a thing that is for what we’ve been shown of Striker’s character, and I think it’s unfortunately something that’s incredibly easy to miss or gloss over. :(

And now--for what I personally think is the most significant thing of all--we have: “We”.  How many times does Striker suggest during that final scene between them that he really wants Blitz to join forces with him as equals?  He never demands that Blitz join up with him, he doesn’t threaten him into joining up with him--Striker barely even hurts Blitz at all during their fight scene compared to how he tried to straight up murder Moxxie--and, most of all, Striker continues to acknowledge that Blitz deserves better than his current arrangement with Stolas.  And he’s right.  But instead of putting it as “I’M right and this is why you should do this”, he always puts his focus on Blitz himself, or the two of them together as a partnership:  “You are so above sucking on a a digusting rich pompous Goetia” | “We could be the most dangerous beings in Hell, Blitz” | “You could partner up with me and klll the unkillable--starting with the one that treats you like a plaything”.  It’s just--I honestly can’t believe it’s taken me this long to put together why Striker appeals so much more to me as a romantic interest for Blitz, but really breaking it down episode by episode and comparing the differences in wording between Striker and Stolas’s dialogue when it comes to Blitz is just.....holy shit. 

Honorary ShoutOut of Episode 6: 

The fact that the only thing hallucination Striker has to say to him is “But you don’t want to do things alone Blitzo!” is really, really interesting to me in the fact that he’s.....not......wrong??  Like, To be fair, Striker, RoboFizz, and Verosika all spill their harsh truths, but the thing is.....Striker’s is markedly different in that his wording really isn’t harsh or aggressive at all the way the other two are.  He’s just kinda stating a fact in an overexaggerated way because tripping balls hallucination sequence.  It’s very interesting to me that that’s the worst that Blitz can imagine him to say--as well as the fact that halluci!Striker calls him “Blitzo”, which is really weird considering that Striker’s never called him “Blitzo” once in the entire show.  Makes me kinda wonder where that came from tbh. 

Alright so, in conclusion of this very long and rambly styie post: I want to take things back to where I started by reiterating that this is not me trying to convince anyone that BlitzStrike is “right” and Stolitz is “wrong”, or that you should stop shipping what you’re shipping in the fandom.  This was just me honestly getting way more excited than I should’ve been over having my “Eureka!” moment for realizing why this new episode didn’t put me back on the Stolitz train like it did for so many other people--and why, in fact, it actually made me think even more favorably of the idea of Blitz and Striker being together.  

Thanks for sticking around with me for this very long read, I hope you found it interesting, and I really really hope that it didn’t piss anyone off or rub too many people the wrong way.  Like I said at the beginning, ship who you want to ship!!  That’s part of the fun of being in a fandom.  I’m just hoping that this might help make it easier to understand at least one perspective on why Stolitz is seen as being so problematic as a ship [as of where they are right now].  

Here’s to seeing where things go from here!! 

[boop-le-snoot]

BUTT-DIAL? NO, BOOTY CALL | tony stark

explicit, 5,4k words. wrong number text, family shame & wedding drama that isn't even his and a ruined first date. despite the implications of the situation, both reader and tony are very entertained. meet-ugly series, part three.

[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

💚 masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq 💚

Another sunny day spent wasted in a conference room full of boring, old, conceited chairmen. Tony Stark vehemently refused to commiserate with them, their boring speeches and blunt, straightforward thinking. Sitting through a meeting was like walking on nails barefoot: painful, pointless. Mind-numbing.

His phone beeped loudly and he reached into his pocket, pretending to not see Pepper's disapproving look. Both of them knew he was hoping for a sudden Assemble call - that would surely get him out of the meeting - but as much as he hoped, they never struck at the right time.

Except, this time it wasn't a call for assistance, and neither it was an automated spam message with Pizza Hut promo codes. Tony's eyebrows drew close and his lips upturned as he read and re-read the obvious rant written on his screen, typing up his answer before he managed to resist the morbid curiosity that was fueled by his boredom.

Whoever it was, they were justifiably angry and the whole situation was almost too comical to be true, except he'd known people exactly like the runaway bride, selfish, greedy and stupid. He totally understood the woman's desire to just go and load up on tequila shots somewhere - so he bid her a haste farewell, all the while snickering to himself.

"It's Rogers," Tony offered in the way of explanation to a glaring Pepper, locking his phone away and settling in to continue pretending he was listening as another old, crusty white man offered his input on topics he was too much of a dinosaur to even really know about.

He couldn't stop thinking about the incident over the days, the story making him snort more times than he could count as the memory randomly crossed his mind in the lab, at the coffee pot or during dinner. So when a message came through from that very same number, the smirk snuck up onto his face before he even read its contents.

A brief crash course in memes from Parker had turned out to be more useful than ever. Irritating Rogers with pictures got old very fast, however, in moments Tony got rendered speechless they proved to be the perfect substitute for trying to articulate all his thoughts on the matter.

Celebrity appearance, she said? More likely than one would think. The engineer had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter when she'd texted him that; obviously, the woman had no clue who she was texting with and he decided to further indulge in his curiosity by asking for her name: Friday did the rest.

A phone number and a name, ten minutes, and all her social media were free for him to stalk. Investigate- uh, observe. With little effort, Tony found both her and her brother, the unlucky groom, and the runaway bride and even her step-dad. On paper, they all looked like average middle-class families. Nothing seemed amiss.

It didn't mean anything, but Tony caught himself thinking about the woman. Perhaps it might have been the mischievous gleem in her eyes that was easily spotted in every picture or perhaps the raunchy sense of humour not much different from his own. Pretty, witty and smart - what's there not to like?

"So that's why you've been going around, smiling like a middle-schooler with a crush," Natasha's voice whisper-shouted in Tony's ear as the spy discreetly peered over his shoulder into his phone. He had the chat pulled up, debating on starting a casual conversation-

"Jesus Christ, Romanoff, somebody needs to put a bell on you," Tony snapped, startled, pressing the button to lock his phone immediately.

"Uhuh," The redhead replied, side-eyeing a snickering Barnes. "Who is she?"

Tony rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep in. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and the rest of the team acting like children wasn't helping the matter. "I got a butt-dial text about some wedding drama. Some chick's brother's fiance was fucking her own stepdad and ditched the wedding for her old man."

Stunned silence settled briefly into the room as Romanoff's eyes widened and Barnes choked on his orange juice. Serves him right, Tony thought, and continued his coffee-making process in quiet irritation.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Wilson half-laughed half-yelled. "You gotta spill the tea, man, this sounds too good to be true. Stories like that just don't fall into your hands."

With a sigh, he recounted the woman's story and read the texts aloud, silencing his snickering enough to be able to keep a straight face - but not for long, Rogers decided it was the time for another one of his Captain America Is Disappointed In You speeches and Tony himself couldn't even disagree.

Now that he thought about it, he came off as a kind of asshole. She and her family was going through something traumatic and he went and treated it like free entertainment. Which, to be fair, it was, but she didn't deserve to be treated like a circus clown. She actually seemed like a good sister and friend.

"Just text her," Natasha rolled her eyes at him, grabbing the coffee pot out of his frozen hand. "You're not Steve, you can keep a decent conversation via text."

Being compared to Steve and his pre-historic messaging habits really did a number on Tony's ego; the eyeroll he gave Romanoff was truly out of this world, all but teleporting him to his lab where he tried to find a way to approach the woman without coming off as incredibly creepy, as if the fact that he'd stalked her on social media didn't already put him firmly into the weirdo category.

Most likely, Tony would have spent many many days on overthinking before just grabbing one of his suits to make a truly impressive landing on her small balcony downtown; thankfully, fate had intervened and saved him from making another epic mistake. He'd made a note to ask Thor about it sometime, settling down with his tablet and popcorn bowl to watch TV on the team's movie night.

Or, more precisely, Tony settled in to watch the drama unfold as the various members of the team fought tooth and nail for the film that they wanted to watch. He never cared about it much, dozing off halfway through most of them - his teammates had the worst taste in movies - so he didn't bother joining the scuffle except when it was Peter's turn to pick. For obvious reasons.

"If you can't decide I'm gonna have someone else pick a movie," Natasha rolled her eyes, equally fed up with fully grown adults acting like spoiled toddlers.

With a stutter of his breath, Tony's hand reached for his phone as he had an Idea.

Seconds tickled as the "typing..." bubble appeared and disappeared multiple times. She must think he's just a thirsty frat boy; Tony's brow furrowed, but the curiosity was far too strong in him. Something about her vibe, her feisty nature captivated him and kept him thinking about her.

The agreement came as a surprise. In the two minutes the woman had spent thinking up her answer, Tony prepared himself to be rebuffed gently, or, worst case, be called a creep. But no - she agreed, but not before vehemently insisting that if he would end up being a creepy serial killer, she would haunt his ass for the remainder of his life.

Friday couldn't come soon enough. Tony spent most of the day loitering between his lab and the penthouse, glancing at his phone every now and then to make sure she wouldn't cancel on him last minute. The engineer wanted to see the witty, no-filter-having woman in the flesh.

And see her, he did. He'd pulled up in front of the hole-in-the wall Ramen&Bar place Clint had been raving about weeks prior - contrary to popular belief, Tony was perfectly fine with going to places that didn't have Michelin stars - and leaned against the door of his Audi R8, eyes immediately taking note of the figure calmly walking down the street, head tilted down where she was typing up a reply to him.

Tony smirked as she lifted her face up to see him, mouth immediately falling open. The shock was obvious; it lasted mere seconds until her shoulders dropped and she sighed almost... In disappointment. He frowned.

"I jinxed it, didn't I? Here's my celebrity appearance," The laugh was a little nervous and quite sardonic. "Hi, Tony, nice to finally see you."

He smiled, unsure, quipping back easily. "Let's face it, I'm not the worst famous Tony out there." Opening the door of the building for the woman, she stepped in eagerly enough, eyes immediately falling on the bartender and the few dimly lit tables in the back.

"Not by any means," She turned towards him, walking backwards. Tony met her stare; it was just like he'd imagined it to be, curious, mischievous and a little daring. She didn't even attempt to play subtle, raking over him from head to toe. "Not at all, I think," She gave another teasing smile, finally turning around, addressing the bartender and rattling off her order without as much as looking at the menu.

Tony couldn't stop staring. He was aware it was creepy, she was aware of his clever brown eyes barely paying attention to their surroundings or the beer or the food. The woman just quirked an eyebrow every time she caught him. His curiosity couldn't wait any more. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He blurted out, cursing himself out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.

"My almost-sister-in-law was fucking her own stepdad," The woman deadpanned. "I ran out of fucks to give, sorry." She thoughtfully chewed her food, briefly looking to the side. "Not to sound like an asshole, but don't you have enough people fawning over you? Doesn't it get old?"

Tony nodded, choosing to stay silent on the matter besides offering an amicable, "That's valid."

The mischief lit up again in her eyes. "You look taller on TV," She snorted, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at his face full of outrage. He sputtered, muttering something about audacity of some people, which made her only laugh harder. "Here's a pro tip from my 4'11 bestie: when someone calls you short, you snarl at them and say you're fun-sized. She swears by it," The woman remarked conversationally, grinning a two hundred watt smile.

Tony was glad at least someone was enjoying their little... Date. "And you know all about fun, don't you?" He aimed for grumpy; it came out as teasing. His famous smirk made a return appearance as he watched her throat bob.

The atmosphere between them had changed at some point; the same old routine of teasing and dancing around each other, but this time, Tony all but purred in satisfaction, finally meeting someone who was an even match to his wit and charm.

"I do," She replied with that cocky confidence, her devil eyes lighting up, lingering on his face. "Got a problem with that?"

The plate was pushed away, napkin falling into the food carelessly as he gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "As a scientist, I cannot confirm whether a theory is true until I have direct evidence," The bullshit flowed easily from his mouth, but the woman appeared to be amused by it - for a change. "M'fraid I'm gonna need that evidence," His fingers drummed on the table, impatiently, inches away from her hand.

"Of course, Mr. Stark," Her voice dropped, she was fully aware of what she was doing by calling him that. That, and those deep, magnetic eyes made Tony's trousers feel a little too tight for comfort.

His phone rang loudly, dissipating the atmosphere they had created with a shrill noise. Captain Cockblock struck again.

Fumbling fingers, Tony tapped the green icon, shooting an apologetic look to the woman. "Rogers, there better be another alien invasion or I'm revoking your phone privileges," The woman chortled, taking a sip of her beer, trying hard not to seem like she was listening in and failing spectacularly at it. "Today, out of all days? Can't Strange fill in for me?" The engineer palmed his face, running a hand through his neatly done-up hair. It would be covered in soot and sweat in an hour anyways. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Romanoff better be hauling Barton's lazy ass out of Bed-Stuy." With a frown, Tony poked the red icon and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, looking for all and all, like an angry adolescent.

The woman, however, didn't indicate any signs of displeasure. Her hand timidly reached out for his, giving it a brief squeeze. "Go, save the world, Mr. Stark," Her smile was sympathetic. They both stood up at the same time, Tony watching her incredulously as the woman untied a scrap of red fabric from around her neck and placed it around his wrist, tying the fabric with a loose but, frankly, pretty knot. "I like that bandanna, would be a shame if you didn't return it," She explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Tony snorted, fondly rolling his eyes, before beelining for the door, activating his Iron Man suit on the way out. Turning around before take off, he noticed her throw a couple of crumpled bills to the server who was too busy ogling him.

He forgot to pay for dinner, Tony realized as he made his way to the other part of the city. Well, fuck, he would definitely have to see her again.

---

An alien invasion during her first good date in ages - scribble, scribble, sigh. She couldn't do much more than that - just as she thought her string of bad luck had ended, the world turned around and flipped her a juicy bird, all but laughing straight in her face. Like that already wasn't enough, oh no, she groused as she spied the debris and random abandoned cars on her way home - it looked like some portion of the battle had been close to her home and only the sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from her life being turned upside down during the last month prevented her from having a full-on freak-out in the middle of the eerily quiet street.

Truly, the fucks she had to give had been expired.

The gloomy mood was interrupted by a cry - for help or of outrage, she didn't know, but the kindness in her, the very values she'd been raised with didn't allow her just to walk by, and with another resigned sigh, she tucked the nice blouse she'd put on for the date under her warm sweater and set off in the direction of the sound, finding the culprit in little under a couple of minutes.

Freeing the trapped civilian wasn't easy but, thankfully, neither it required super-strength or any kind of heavy machinery. The man thanked her and with him in tow, both of them set off to inspect nearby nooks and crannies. Logic won that day - if there's was one person, there could be more.

Hours later, sweaty, sore and bruised, the woman greedily chugged the water bottle someone had passed onto her as the amount of medics and firefighters had finally reached the threshold of when her help wasn't needed anymore. While her date and his colleagues fought whatever nasty that thought NYC was a sandbox battleground for their amusement, the woman found herself helping out with retrieval & evacuation of the civilians that didn't make it out of the neighborhood before the heat of the fight reached it. There were no deaths registered as of then and deep inside, she felt proud, knowing that she had contributed to the statistic at least a little.

Her phone was dying, her body was covered in dirt and scratches from head to toe and the bruises were beginning to ache. Tony's worry-worting was cute but the tiredness overcame her, making her brain sluggish and her demeanor short, so she hastily pocketed the phone, trailing over to the closest man in uniform she could spot.

"Sir?" She addressed him, eyeing the unfamiliar logo on his jacket. "Can I go, please?" She pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the makeshift medical station.

"I'm going to have to see your ID first," He replied apologetically, tapping away on his tablet.

With a sigh, she dug through her purse, giving it to him and using the brief moment of respite to smooth back her hair and dust off her clothing. There was a cloud of concrete and dirt surrounding her.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet, Mr. Stark left strict instructions for you to be picked up by him personally," The agent gave the ID back with a suspicious glint in his eye.

"Oh c'mon," The annoyed whine escaped her lips before she registered it. "It was our first date," She offered to the puzzled agent, only succeeding in making him lean back and inspect her with a raised eyebrow. "Bye," She replied none too kindly, walking off to find a place to sit down.

The time passed in a strange way. The aches and pains and exhaustion made it stop, and if someone would have asked her, she wouldn't know how much of it has passed until her eyes reluctantly cracked open at the sound of a familiar voice, coming to see a pair of expensive shoes covered in dust. At least she wasn't the only one that looked like she'd taken a roll through someone's gritty attic.

"Morning, you Tasmanian Devil," Tony sounded jovial, all things considered.

"Hello to you too, Tin Can," The woman greeted him on par, without missing a beat.

"Now, now," He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully, before pulling her to her feet. "I come with peace offerings. Your building is under quarantine and I've got a perfectly good bed and a shower with thirty settings on it at my place. Whatcha say?"

She only pretended to think about it. Her reply was haste. "I don't make a habit of going into strange dudes' towers but I'll make an exception this once." A shower and a bed sounded heavenly.

Finally getting the chance to look at him, Tony appeared to be unhurt but equally exhausted and dirty. A few scrapes on his face and arms, he was missing his blazer, and had a weary tone to his face. Some parts of his Iron Suit were still on him - like the chest plate - but besides that, he was whole. The red of the bandanna she gave him was equally dirty but still neatly tied around his wrist, just like she left it.

"How's your relationship with heights?" He asked her and all she could do was blink, watching curiously as his body was enveloped by the red and gold, crawling over his skin like a swarm of shiny termites. That was all the warning she got before the metal arms - quite literally - sweeped her off her feet. "Faster this way," She could hear the nonchalant shrug in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. "Now hold on."

Awe and fear culminated inside the woman but the weariness had long since surpassed comfortable levels and all she did was give a weak nod and close her eyes as Tony lifted off, gusts of wind making her skin break out in goosebumps and her hair stand up wildly on her head. During the short trip her eyes fluttered open only once just to close back up immediately - all she saw were clouds, white and fluffy, like marshmallows, and the shining beacons of NYC skyscrapers somewhere far away.

The paralyzing anxiety fully dissipated only when her feet found purchase on the tiled floors, Tony's arms never ceasing to support her swaying frame until the breaths she took were her own and not the result of her fluttering heart and muted panic. "You with me, Wonder Woman?"

"Yes, Weird Science," She mumbled. "Thanks for the heads up," The annoyance had to find a way out and that it did.

"You're welcome," The cocky smirk returned to Tony's face as his suit receded, leaving him barefoot, dirty jeans and a torn tee. He stretched with a sweet groan, gesturing towards the door. "Friday will direct you towards the showers. Feel free to grab a t-shirt from the closet."

The woman nodded, too awestruck by the man and his hospitality, eyes darting all over the tastefully decorated room, the expensive knick-knacks scattered everywhere, the absolutely enormous sloppily made bed. Tony Stark liked to live luxuriously - even the shower was a state of the art technological wonder.

Dirty pants and dusty blouse went flying somewhere in the back of the bathroom as the woman stood up on her tippy toes, reaching for the sky, stretching her sore muscles. The glass wall of the shower had began to fog up from the hot water. The knock went barely noticed by the woman who jumped as Tony's voice startled her out of her daydream.

"Forgot I ran out of towels here..." He trailed off, voice dropping as he spotted her only in her underwear. She turned, responding with a lopsided grin, spying the stack of fluffy grey in his arms, the arc reactor in the middle of his bare chest. He smirked, "Damn. Can I join you?" Giving her what only could be described as a respectful once-over.

Tired as she was, her sense of humour and wit didn't go down for a much needed nap just yet. "I don't know, you tell me. Can you?" Turning back around, the woman made a short show of unclasping her bra and tossing it in the general vicinity of her dirty clothing pile. She'd worn a cute matching set of undies that day and the fact didn't go over Tony's head, she was sure.

The door clicked shut just as she raised her face to the stream of water, feeling calmer with each second, muscles relaxing themselves as the hot stream washed away the dirt and the dust off her body.

"And I thought this evening was ruined," Tony's voice insinuated from behind her. A hand reached for the soap, his body heat scorching compared to the steaming water. He stayed just a few inches away, enough to feel him, enough for her body to respond and crave more. "It's nice to be wrong for a change. Refreshing."

The woman hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through her wet, knotted hair. "First decent evening in ages. I wasn't gonna let some uninvited Predator knock-offs ruin it for me," She was more than a little peeved at the space invaders interrupting her nice date. Tony was a great conversationalist, it was easy to talk to him and he had a brilliant sense of humour. Not to mention the obvious, he was easy on the eyes.

"That's the spirit," The voice was closer now, almost in her ear. Even though her eyes were closed, the woman was aware he was reaching for something, letting him butt her hands out of the way to lather her hair, scrubbing at her scalp meticulously, until the sounds that left her mouth bordered on embarrassing. Once that was done, Tony moved onto her body, running his hands over her back, the outside of her hips. "M'not stepping over, am I?" He asked quietly, touch faltering every time he brushed over a scrape or a bruise.

"No, you're doing great, Tony," It wasn't exactly conventional - sharing a very intimate shower after an interrupted first date, but then again, nothing about this man was conventional and her life had already been turned upside down no less than twice recently. The woman didn't lie, the gentle, caring touch felt soothing.

Arching her back, she lifted her arms to repay him with the same, raking her fingers through his hair, leaning into the shudder that ran throughout his body. It was nice to bask in whatever they had going on, so the motion to face him was almost reluctant. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and his eyes were tired but not in a way that suggested he'd kick her out first chance.

Their kiss was sweet, slow, like they already were familiar with each other in a special way. The woman tugged on his lip with her teeth - such was her character - and he pressed closer to her, raising a hand to hold the side of her face. In muted curiosity, she couldn't help but wonder if there ever had been someone that waited for him once his battles were over.

Tony's eyelashes, the very same that had no business being this long on a man, fluttered against her cheek as they stood under the shower, letting water wash away the day.

"I've always wanted to kiss in the rain, like they do in the movies. This is the closest I've gotten," She whispered, gently kneading the arch of his shoulders. "Feels better than it looks, to be honest."

Tony snorted, reaching for the knob to turn it off. "Cheesy," He teased her, wrapping a warm, fluffy towel around her body. Both people made quick work of drying themselves, exiting the fogged up bathroom, making way into the bedroom, padding soft on the carpet and falling down on the bed carelessly.

"I'm the queen of cheesy one-liners," The woman raised her eyebrows, scooting under the sheets next to Tony who opened his arms wide, a smirk on his face. She didn't give him the chance to reply, slotting her lips over his instead and groaning as their heated bodies once again rested against each other.

She ran her hands over Tony's defined pecs, glossing over the arc reactor, raked nails over his tummy, eating up the sighs leaving his mouth at the gesture. He was a beautiful man, she wasn't going to lie to herself. The warmth that settled low in her belly grew, spreading throughout her limbs and temporarily overshadowing the exhaustion.

The engineer, too, was quite excited - his erection poked her hip - and content to be steered to her wishes by the hand in his hair. Groans and sighs left his moist, parted lips as his eagerness bled into his hands, grip firm and steady on the panting woman's hips.

Adrenaline did something to her body, caused it to ache sweetly, a hunger to be satisfied only by a lover's touch. And touch she did; her mouth tasted him, alternating sucking gentle marks onto his throat and nibbling on the skin stretched thinly over his collarbones. Tony's sighs grew in depth and volume with every silent action of worship.

No inch of his body was left untouched, the woman was an all-hands-on-deck kind of lover, happily making her way down until soft lips wrapped around the crown of his cock, making his hips arch into it, hands fisted in the soft white sheets. "You devil," Tony gasped out, limbs turning to jelly, watching the woman all but devour his cock.

She popped off minutely, a trail of sticky saliva running down her chin, sticking to his glistening cock. "The power of Christ compels me?" With a smirk, her tongue trailed from his balls to the very tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum, making Tony shudder and gasp out an embarrassed laugh.

"Uh-uh," Stripped of his usual snark, he was but a man at her mercy.

"It's not very compelling," The predatory stretch of her lips widened as she took mercy on him, giving his cock a few slow tugs with her hand. Her mouth, her hand and his cock were dripping. "Gonna let me do all the legwork, Mr. Stark?" She sat up straighter, inadvertently drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs where the woman's sex glistened in the dim light, lips swollen and inviting.

It sounded like she was mocking him, teasing him, egging him into a lustful frenzy none of them had the energy for but craved anyway. Tony Stark wasn't the one to back down from a fair challenge so he relented, flipping them over with ease, landing between her spread legs, eyes drawn to the momentary bounce of her breasts. Tony wasted no time in suckling a hard nipple into his mouth, humming in response to her choked-off moan of surprise.

"Tony," Her body arched into his touch, tender skin hot under the callouses on his fingertips.

"Yes, demon, dear?" A lopsided grin and laughter in his eyes preceded the wet stripe Tony licked down to her navel. "Wasn't there something about not telling demons your name? Guess you have power over me now," He trailed off cheekily, soft breaths puffing over her mound.

The woman bit her lip, peering down to rake a hand through Tony's hair, snagging a fistful to gently steer him towards her pussy. Tony's smile was one of satisfaction as he obediently followed her silent order, nosing along the line of her cunt, dipping his tongue to run slow, sloppy lines through the soaked folds.

"Fuck," She mumbled, spreading her legs without shame. "Yeah, right there," Her fingers turned white at the agility of Tony's tongue on her clit. He was swift and relentless in pursuit of the spots that made her moan and clench around nothing. The moisture of her sex soaked his goatee but he couldn't care less.

He growled when she attempted to withdraw, wrapping his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her still for his pleasure, wringing noises that increased in volume with every stroke of his tongue on her sex.

"Tony- please, Tony, I'm gonna-" The warning was brief; her back arched as a broken moan found its way past her moist, parted lips, her pussy spasmed, dripping all over his face and the sheets.

The engineer hid his smile against her thigh, discreetly wiping the obscene amounts of moisture she produced. It wasn't very long until her hands, slightly shaky, were tugging him upwards to meet his face in a rushed, graceless kiss. There was an equal lack of finesse in the glide of his erection along her sex.

"Okay?" He mumbled into her ear, lining himself up with her fluttering cunt.

"Please," She gasped, her hands pushing his hips onto her, eagerly lifting up to accept the sweet intrusion.

There was a quiet stutter in both of their breathing, hearts thudding against their ribs as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him nestled snugly inside the rippling muscle. The pace he started out was agonizingly slow and inexplicably sweet, neither of them wanting to end their coupling prematurely but not being able to hold back the need that consumed them both.

"Fuck, you're so good to me," Tony's mumbling was overshadowed by the slick sounds coming from the place they were joined. "Gonna fill up this pretty pussy."

The woman keened at the idea, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him further into her.

"You'd like that?" He picked up the pace, blunt tip of his cock catching up with the tail end of her previous orgasm and re-lighting the fire in her belly anew.

"Yeah, Tony, please," No trace of the previous coyness in her voice, the woman was more than ready to beg, murder and steal to feel the man come undone in her arms.

It didn't take long, not with the adrenaline making their blood sing and the chemistry they shared. The brutal pace of Tony's hips quickly grew sloppy and erratic, the tightening of her inner muscles egging him on. He chased his release with deep, powerful thrusts that had the bedsheets rustle pitifully and beads of clear swear drip down his forehead.

As soon as her body arched once more, Tony let go of his control, slotting himself deeply into her spasming heat, cock throbbing as he painted her insides white with his seed, groaning incomprehensible compliments and profanities through his teeth. Chest heaving, the engineer couldn't do much more but let himself carefully fall onto her chest, aftershocks making him twitch when the woman began running a gentle hand through his hair.

"We're doing this again," He decided, still breathless but already a step ahead. She laughed.

Tony Stark taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @downeyreads @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @slothspaghettiwrites @bluecrazedandbeautiful

[detransition]

from permutational

“I never knew a woman like you could exist, so how could I even dream of you before I knew you?”

My wonderful girlfriend wrote this to me in her most recent love letter. She was writing about the concept of a “dream woman”, and how she wasn’t sure what hers would look like or be like until she met me. But, I can’t stop thinking about it, because this one little phrase captures something big about the butch lesbian experience, something I’ve had a hard time putting words to. It also captures realizations I’ve gone through after detransitioning.

It’s almost a “ring of keys” kind of thought. But I love how it highlights the relationship between knowing and dreaming. What you’re aware of influences what you can dream about, what you can aspire to. What you know informs the possibilities of who you can be and love at your core.

Back a few years ago, when my crisis was was coming to a head and I decided to detransition, I felt lost. I craved an “undo” button that didn’t exist. All I knew was where I’d already been, only there was no going back. I couldn’t envision what my future might look like, especially with how far I’d gone in transitioning. I couldn’t imagine that I’d ever “live as a woman” again; I felt “too far gone”. It didn’t seem like the concept of “womanhood” could encircle me as I was. When was the last time I saw a woman that looked like me? Oh yeah, never – that was the original goal, after all.

In that moment, when I didn’t know what to do, I went with my gut: the very first thing I did was make a beeline straight to YouTube. Probably sounds a little strange, but looking back, it makes sense to me. I was searching for possibilities, for people, for stories. I wanted direct evidence that someone like me can exist, because I felt very unreal.

I looked up ‘detransition’, and there they were. Not many at the time, but enough. There were people with deepened voices, facial hair, mastectomies, bodies and histories like mine, unmistakable. And yet, they called themselves women, some even called themselves lesbians.

I watched and listened, and it didn’t matter what they were talking about; I didn’t even agree with everything they said. What mattered was that they existed. They were real.  Some of these women passed as male, but didn’t seem pressed to change themselves any further or in any way, and still emphatically called themselves women. It was mind blowing to me, and comforting. Knowing that I wouldn’t be the first or only one like this was a relief. It gave me courage, made me feel a little less crazy. It felt like I could move forward knowing that I’m not utterly alone in this experience.

And later on, I actually met these women, and others like them. Women with different ideas and opinions, not all of whom agreed with one another, or used the same words, or understood themselves in the same way. Regardless of differences, they had experiences in common with each other, and with me.

Each strange woman I’ve met has broadened the possibilities of what a woman can be, and what kind of woman I can be. Spending time with other uncommon women has fundamentally changed me at my core. There is something they gifted me that I don’t have words for. Something that came from seeing, hearing, and sharing space. Knowing by witnessing.

My beard carries memories of the bearded women I’ve met and loved; when I look in the mirror, I see part of them in me. My head is bald because I met other women who were bald first, and through them got the courage to take the plunge and buzz it all off and never look back. My voice is stronger from singing with others who embraced their changed voices. I don’t have the shame and embarrassment about my voice that I did before.

Every single part of my body carries the memories of other women like me. Detransitioned women, butch dykes young and old, friends, lovers… My opinion of myself and what I can be has fundamentally changed because of the possibilities I’ve seen in other women.

I never knew women like us could exist. But I know now, and I dream of us often.

thinking of detransition? you are not alone

[emitheduck]

So. We're Soulmates? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: my first soulmate AU, and I figured it was finally time, and bucky deserved one lol. no spoilers whatsoever

Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate’s birthday tattooed on your arm ---

March 10th, 1917.

(Y/n) had always thought, there was no possible way that the universe had ever, ever gotten her soulmate’s birthday right. When everyone was celebrating that their soulmate was around the same age as them, she got to look down in horror as she could practically see her soulmate’s life fly by. There was legitimately no possible way that her soulmate would even still be alive.

The rules of the soulmate were strange, and no one ever understood them or questioned them. It was found out sometime in the 80s that the dates on peoples forearms weren’t random--but the birthday of their soulmate. Because the universe was a cosmic nightmare, when someone’s soulmate died, the numbers went with them.

That’s what made this so strange.

Either (Y/n)’s soulmate was hanging onto life support, or the universe had fucked up and decided it was going to trick her into thinking she could find happiness like everyone else.

She had these feelings up until she got the faithful call one day, that she had landed the job with SHIELD and found out that she would be working in the helicarrier during the attack on New York. And that’s how she met Steve Rogers.

“You know, it’s kind of funny.” Steve sighed with a chuckle, shaking his head as he followed (Y/n) who was leading him to where he would be staying.

“What is?” She asked as she typed in the access code for one of the doors as they walked.

“The number on your arm. That’s my friend’s birthday.” Steve was smirking as he walked into his room. “I mean, it was his birthday.”

(Y/n) looked down at the date on her arm and sighed, her hand instinctively covering the date. “You sure he’s dead? Not some hundred-year-old veteran in a nursing home that you haven’t checked in on or something?” She was trying her best to not sound horrible for joking about his friend's death, but he seemed almost amused by her banter.

“Last I checked, he’s dead. I watched him fall off the train and everything.” He told her as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “His name was Bucky.” He told her as she turned around to leave, watching her stop for a moment to listen before she left.

Steve’s words always lingered in the back of her mind ever since that day on the helicarrier. She had seen the Bucky memorial spot in the museum, and the day she found out that he was alive, she would never forget (mostly because when it happened, she had dropped the bottle of wine she was holding on the floor and spent hours picking up tiny shards of glass).

The year was now 2023. Five years after the blip, and (Y/n) now fully retired from SHIELD. She left on good terms, but the years of working were just exhausting. Especially now that she came back after vanishing for five years and had to rebuild her life all over again. At least they were respectful, and were happy to give her the pay that she had missed out on.

It was hard enough having to deal with knowing all your close friends sacrificed themselves for the whole world, and not being able to do anything about it. That was the reason that kept her up most nights. The guilt of feeling like she could have done something, but never got the chance to, was the hardest feeling.

That’s what led (Y/n) to walking aimlessly around the grocery store at almost 2am. When she couldn’t sleep, sometimes the best thing to do was walk around pushing the cart and praying that the LED lights would calm her down enough to go home and face the empty apartment.

What she didn’t expect was turning the corner of the frozen section and crashing her cart into someone elses. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” (Y/n) apologize as she looked at the man in front of her. “I should have been looking. I guess I’m just tired.”

“I’m probably just tired too.” He chuckled, pulling his cart away from hers. Both the carts were empty anway. “You come here to walk around at night too?”

“How could you tell?” (Y/n) laughed, running a hand through her hair as she looked him over. He looked familiar, and knowing her luck he was some assassin that was stalking her, and came here to finish the job.

He motioned to their empty carts with a bob of his head. “Something about just pushing the carts around and listening to the crappy music makes me feel better too.” He smirked as he never broke eye contact. “Also, people normally buy food when they’re shopping.”

(Y/n) sighed, nodding. “You caught me. I’m just here to wander.”

“It’s okay. I am too. Sometimes staring at the TV isn’t enough.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he broke eye contact to look where his hands were gripping the handle of the cart. “Sorry, I’m just rambling I guess.”

“No, I get it.” She laughed it off, knowing it was late and sometimes people just kept talking when they were tired. “My names (Y/n).” She smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He seemed to hesitate, but reached out and shook her hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

She could feel her mouth go dry. “Bucky?” There was just no, possible way that this was the man who has been in the back of her mind for years on end.

“I’m guessing you know who I am.” He muttered, already preparing himself to turn around and forget this interaction never happened. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait! No, I didn’t mean it like that.” (Y/n) exclaimed as she held her hands out to stop him from leaving. “I just have heard so much about you--not the way you think, it sounds so weird. I talked to Steve about you once, way back before the battle of New York.”

She peaked his interest at the mention of Steve. “You knew Steve?”

(Y/n) nodded. “He told me all about you. Look, I even have your birthday on my arm.” She told him, lifting up her sleeve to show him the date on her arm, watching his eyes go wide out of shock. “Steve liked to always tease me that I had your birthday, and I always told him that I probably had some old man, sitting in some hospital bed, decaying before our eyes. Wow, I am rambling, I am so sorry. I should leave.” She was bright red as she decided to just leave her cart where it was and accept the humiliation and leave.

“No, you don’t have to go.” Bucky told her, gently grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. “I guess now that you showed me yours, I’ll show you mine.” He grinned as he let go of her arm, using his left hand to pull up his long sleeve. There on his arm, in bold black numbers was (Y/n)’s birthday clear as day.

“Do you maybe want to go get coffee at that 24 hour place across the street? We might have a bit we need to talk about.” She was dumbfounded. Steve would always tease and joke, telling her that Bucky was her soulmate just because it was the same birthday on her arm. But due to the fact that he was presumed dead for so long, (Y/n) never thought anything of it.

“Are you going to come inside? I’ve been holding the door open for almost a minute.” Bucky asked, laughing a little uncomfortably as he watched the woman just stand at the door of the diner. She didn’t even remember the walk to get there.

(Y/n) blinked, rubbing her eyes as she nodded and walked inside. The sign said seat yourself, and she found a nice seat by the window for the two of them. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a little speechless.”

He chuckled as he shifted in the booth. “I’ll be honest. Me too.”

“So. We’re soulmates.” She shrugged, feeling uncertain of herself. Finding her soulmate was never the first thing on her mind, because she never actually thought that she would find him. Sure, the universe also had a way of making the two cross paths at some point, but because of the age, she never cared.

“When I used to see the date on my arm, I thought it was a joke.” He told her, mumbling that he wanted a coffee when the waiter walked over and asked what they wanted. “She wants a coffee. Two cream, one sugar.” He said as the other man nodded and walked away.

“How did you know my coffee order?” She asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Bucky opened his mouth like he was about to speak but sighed. “I legit have no idea. My brain was working for me, and it just came out.”

(Y/n) laughed. “I mean, we’re cosmically linked so it does make sense.” The coffee was set down in front of them and she smiled as she held onto the mug. “Is this when I ask if you can tell me about yourself?”

“Where do I start?” He asked as he set his coffee down after taking a sip. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but I go by Bucky. James is only for when shit hits the fan I guess.”

“I think I prefer Bucky.” She smiled, watching as his cheeks turned red for a moment.

“What about you Doll? What fun thing do you have to tell me?” Bucky asked her with a smirk, making it her turn to blush.

“I worked for SHIELD, that’s where I met Steve. But then there was that time we found out that Hydra was inside of SHIELD, and technically you tried to kill me.” She pointed out, watching as he put his head down in shame. “But that’s all in the past now. I’m not that person anymore.”

He took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. “What changed?”

(Y/n) sighed, shaking her head as she held onto her coffee mug for warmth. “I was pretty close with Steve and Natasha. Tony helped me get the job at SHIELD, too. Three people that I looked up to more than anything, were gone before I ever got a chance to say goodbye.” She told him, knowing that there would be no more tears left to cry. Her tear-ducts seemed to stop working after she had cried for days straight that they were gone.

“I wasn’t very close to anyone but Steve, but I do understand how you feel.” He told her, leaning across the table to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Do you live in the city?”

“I live pretty close to Hell’s Kitchen.” She told him, watching as he nodded. “I’m guessing you live in Brooklyn?”

He looked a little surprised, but still smiled. “How could you tell?”

She smiled back, a little shy. “Some part of me just knew, but the other part of me heard Steve talk about Brooklyn all the time. He loved it there, and I guess I thought you did too.”

“It’s definitely still amazing, but a lot has changed. I’m still getting used to it all.” Bucky confessed, putting down some money for the coffee as they both finished and stood up from the table.

(Y/n) checked her phone and sighed at the time. 3:30 in the morning, and there was no way she was going to sleep now. Now, she was going to ride the train and hope that the rocking of the subway would be enough to turn her mind off for a while. “I should get going. It’s getting late, and I’m taking the train back.”

He nodded, seeming a little uneasy that she was about to leave. “Do you maybe want my number? We could meet up someday, maybe get to know eachother better?”

She grinned as she handed him her phone. “Put your number in.” She told him as they traded phones, smirking as she put in her contact. “I put my information as (Y/n)-Soulmate, just in case you seemed to forget.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Bucky chuckled as he looked at her contact. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Considering the fact I’ve known you for a few hours, and I’m already completely head-over-heels for you, I don’t think you have to worry.” (Y/n) told him, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye for now, but not bye forever.”

Bucky was grinning like an idiot, and he knew it. “I like the sound of that. I still just can’t believe I found you after all these years.”

“You better believe it, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

MASTERLIST