#whenever I go a week without drawing it feels like it’s been several months instead

[cotl-eyesofdeath]

Uh

[shikonstar]

Hearts are delicate. Breakable. Once they slip through one set of fingers, can they ever find a home in those hands again?

An Inu/Kag ficlet.

“I love you.”

She says it, knowing it’s too late. He’s already set his eyes on someone else, but if she doesn't get the words out, she knows she’ll explode. Saying it once he’s actually involved with someone else just wouldn't be right. Her smile is several watts too bright as his eyes blink rapidly, his brows lowered in confusion.

“But I don't--”

“Love me. I know. I just....had to get it out. Don't worry about it. I know that it’s her. And...I hope it works for you. Really.”

She means it. She truly does. All she’s ever wanted is for him to be happy, even if that happiness is like acid in her lungs, drowning her in fire. She doesn't bother waiting for an answer. She knows he’s staked out this hallway, waiting for Kikyo to make her way to her next class, and just because she’s always been his biggest cheerleader doesn't mean she wants first-row seats to the game. So she steps to the left and allows herself to be swept away in the sea of other students, drowning out the sound of him trying to let her down easy.

Her heart slipped from the clawed hands in which she had placed it, shattering into crystalline fragments as it hit the floor.

“This doesn't mean I love you or anything.”

It’s an almost grudging mumble, and she has to bite back the harsh words that want to shoot from her mouth like bullets in response. It’s been months, he’s dating someone else, and she’s not an idiot.

“I didn't think it did,” she settles on saying, meeting his eyes steadily.

He shifts, still holding the class assignments he brought for her while she was sick with the flu.

“I just....didn't want to give you the wrong idea,” he explains, and there's an almost apologetic note in the tone of his voice.

“I hardly think bearing gifts of extra homework qualifies as a declaration of undying love,” she says dryly, choosing to give him an out.

He snorts a laugh, and the tension leaves his body as he drops into the chair by her desk, launching into everything she’s missed in the Miroku/Sango drama since she’s been out for the week.

“Tryin’ to take her place won't make me love you!”

The words are sharp and meant to cut; the feral snarl on his face makes that clear. The breakup with Kikyo has been bad, and he is still raw and exposed. Steam was still rising from the meat of a fresh kill, and he was looking for something--anything--on which to vent his pain.

Naturally, that would be Kagome. Always soft. Always helpful. Always near. But even as the words leave his mouth, something tells him he has crossed a line. He waits for the tears or, if he is lucky, the angry yelling, and his apprehension grows when neither comes.

Instead, she draws herself up and gazes at him with a coldness that would have had even his brother shivering.

“You don't share my feelings, and that’s fine. But that doesn't mean you get to throw them in my face whenever it suits you,” she says quietly.

The words fell on him like a stoning, each one leaving a bruise in its wake. It washes away his own raging sadness, leaving him feeling small and ashamed.

“I didn't mean--”

“I already knew it without you having to say anything. Just....leave it.”

He looks at her from under his bangs, and for the first time, it occurs to him that Kagome is no stranger to this feeling. He wonders how she manages to keep such a good lid on it and how long it took to learn that kind of control.

He’s afraid of the answer.

Her phone buzzes, sparing them both. She looks at the screen, then arranges her lips into the distant cousin of a smile.

“Sango wants us to go to the movies with them. C’mon, let's go spend a couple of hours watching things blow up. It usually makes me feel better, at least.”

He should probably make a better apology or at least finish their conversation, but instead, he wipes the crusty trail of tears off of his cheeks and snatches up his jacket from where he had tossed it on his bed.

“Fine. I’ll spring for your snacks this time,” he says, knowing that as apologies go, it’s weak and insufficient, but he promises himself that he’ll try to make it up to her later when he isn't feeling like a steaming pile of shit.

“Ya know, if you didn't love me, you'd probably have more of a social life.”

He says it almost like a joke, and he hopes she doesn't hear the note of curiosity in his voice. He knows she’s been asked out on dates. He’s heard guys moan over her in the locker room. Part of him feels guilty that she’s never made an effort to move on. Part of him he bludgeons with a mallet every time it starts to pop up out of its hole.

Kagome takes another delicate nibble of her sandwich, never raising her attention from her book.

“It would probably make it easier for me to get laid, too,” she agrees, her manner distressingly casual.

The shock causes him to pause before his fangs can break the skin of his apple. The concept of Kagome getting laid is foreign. It’s as if he has been dropped in another country where he doesn't speak the language and doesn't know the terrain, but somehow he is expected to navigate it successfully. He examines her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she realizes that she sounds almost comfortable with the idea of being with someone other than him.

It should come as a relief.

But it doesn't.

“You've always said you didn't love me, so what does it even matter?”

They have been arguing for over an hour. She’s tired, and her nerves are fraying. Why was he acting like this was such a betrayal? Eventually, he would move on from his heartbreak (for someone who could heal physically within the blink of an eye, wounds of the heart had been surprisingly slow to mend), and he wouldn't need her as some sort of living security blanket.

He digs his claw into the tree, the wood soft as butter under the unyielding blades. “We’d all decided on the same college, and you wait until now to say you aren't going?” He snapped, unable to look at her; otherwise, the stinging sensation behind his eyes might make itself known.

“I am going. Just not until next year,” she says with a listless shrug. “My grandparents are paying for this trip, and it’s an opportunity I think I’d regret passing up. Besides, having me around would just cramp your style,” she tries to joke, but she can tell by the way his jaw clenches that her attempt has fallen flat.

“Is it really what you want?” He asks, becoming oddly stoic.

There’s a stretch of silence, as she thinks. For years, she’s been by his side, as constant and unobtrusive as his shadow. The pain of loving him has become a steady weight that she carries like her school backpack. She’s weary. She wants to put it down.

“It’s what I need,” she answers.

“I don't love you anymore.”

She says it with a smile that speaks of relief, a prisoner who has had their sentence revoked.

Inuyasha wants to scream, wants to laugh. He wants to beat the living shit out of someone or tear down trees. He wants to bury his face in his mother’s stomach and sob like a pup. But he doesn't get to do that, does he? He had his chance. No. He had hundreds. In the time she’s been gone, he’s counted them all out, a rosary of sadness worn smooth from use. It shouldn't come as a surprise that it was too late, and yet, for some reason, it had. It was like fate had saved up all of the pain Kagome must have felt from his words and actions over the years and hurtled it back into his stomach.

The smile he gives her is only marginally less shaky than his voice. “Took you long enough,” he laughs.

His heart begs her to realize that something is wrong, to understand and make things better as she always has, in her typical Kagome way.

She doesn't notice.

She’s not really looking at him anymore.

“They look so in love, don't they?”

He has to turn a growl into a cough at those words, and he pretends to check his phone so he doesn't have to watch the couple slowly strolling across campus, their arms wrapped around each other. They do look like they're in love. It was a look he had imagined on Kagome’s face for over a year now, and he was finally seeing it. Just not from the angle he wanted.

Not that he saw it much. He hated being a third or fifth wheel, so he usually made an excuse to duck out of any kind of group activities where she and her boyfriend might be. He had made the mistake of going to a party, and he still wasn't over the shock of seeing Kagome dancing. Her body swaying and grinding against another, her arms wrapped around his neck in such an intimate manner that screamed out for the whole room that they were lovers.

He had staggered out into the cold night air, his legs so shaky that those watching him thought he was drunk. But he had been stone-cold sober; he wasn't granted the mercy of a blackout-induced memory loss.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to try to find someone else. There was a tiny part of him that hoped that if he waited long enough, the situation would right itself, and they would find their way to each other. The thought brought a grim smile. That isn't how life worked, though. The most likely scenario was that Kagome, if she didn't stick with this guy, would find someone else. And then another. And so on and so forth, until she finally found one who was the one.

And he was just going to have to deal with it.

“It hurts. Not as bad as loving you did, but it still hurts.”

She’s crying, and he can feel each hot tear as it sears through the material of his hoodie. He’s a sick, selfish fucker because, for one hot minute, he clings to the fact that she had felt more strongly for him; that feeling withers and dies in the face of her sadness, and he can't bring himself to take any real joy from something that is causing her pain. At least this time, he’s not the one who fucked up and hurt her. At least this time, he’s trying to be there for her in whatever way she needs him--not the way he wants, but hell, this isn't about him.

Sango would probably tell her not to waste her tears on the bastard.

Miroku would have soothing words of wisdom that made you want to slap him for being right.

Inuyasha figured he’d said enough of the wrong shit over the years, and she didn't need to hear anymore. Words had never come all that easily to him, and she was too precious to hurt as casually as he had in the past.

So instead, he holds her a little tighter, stroking her hair. He places the barest whisper of a kiss on the top of her head, knowing she probably hadn't felt it but unable to hold back that small gesture of affection.

She wasn't his to love or protect.

Somehow, it really didn't seem to matter.

“Because I’m an idiot, and I fell in love with you again!”

It’s a quiet wail of despair, and honestly, the last thing Inuyasha thought he would ever hear. His ears flick forward and back in rapid succession, sure that somehow the delicate instruments were in error. She had been avoiding him, and he had finally hunted her down and pressed the issue. At her words, joy bubbles up within him, and the dead lump of flesh in his chest starts beating rapidly as if it’s trying to make up for lost time. He’s almost delirious in his happiness, so it comes as a shock when he realizes that Kagome is slumped in on herself, looking like the textbook definition of misery.

Why isn't she as happy as he is?

Then his brain catches up with the reality of the situation, and he has his answer. She thinks it’s like before. She thinks her heart is in a freefall and he’s not gonna do a damn thing before it splatters all over the ground.

But she’s wrong.

He takes a step toward her, and then another.

“Took you long enough,” he says, and he can't hold back the smile when he hears the hitch in her throat as her eyes search his with a desperate intensity.

He’s still shit with words, and he knows that she knows this. So instead of tripping over his own tongue and leaving room for misinterpretation, he leans forward and places his lips over hers. It’s light and gentle and over far too soon. She still looks slightly confused, so he places one hand on the back of her head and goes in for another. He feels her fingers slide up and grip his collar as she returns his kiss, her small whimper of satisfaction pulling out a rumble of agreement from deep within his chest.

He still doesn't feel like it’s enough.

“Fuck it,” he whispers harshly before pulling her flush against him, bruising her lips as he pours out the feelings that have been trapped within him for far too long.

Kagome, being Kagome, feels everything that he is saying without words, and to his delight, she responds in kind.

As they cling to each other in the cramped stairwell of her dorm, he feels it. Not the hair under his right hand or the hip under his left. But somehow, in both, the sensation of her heart sliding into place, exactly where she had placed it before.

It was a perfect fit.

From the slight tremble that ran through her body, he knew it was being placed carefully, as if not entirely sure it was safe. He couldn't blame her, and he was determined to do whatever it took to prove that neither her trust nor her heart had been misplaced. He wasn't too worried.

He might be an idiot, but he was an idiot with a damn good grip.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Please. I need more merman foul legacy. I needs him to be happy!

since yall seem to love the first part so much, here's part two!! hope you enjoy, also human Childe is kiiiinda in this a bit <3

Read Part One Here!!

~ * ~ Sea Monster AU HCs (Part Two)

Fluff

Warning for beaches, water, and getting sick

PART TWO

~ * ~

-It’s been days since you were able to go to the beach -Summer brings long days full of sun, without a cloud in the sky -Usually the beach is filled with tourists during this time of year and NORMALLY you wouldn’t be bothered by it -But this time it’s filled with hunters trying to catch and kill the “sea monster” -And you also happen to KNOW the “sea monster” personally so you’re not keen on something bad happening to him -Every time you try going back someone stops you, explaining that you must’nt enter because they’re so close to catching that dastardly sea monster -Yeah right. It’s been MONTHS since the hunt started and they haven’t made ANY progress -Still, they’re doing great at keeping you out of the beach and before you know it over a week has passed -Luckily you’re very persistent, and you finally find a night where everyone has gone home, tired and sunburnt from “hunting” -You climb your favorite rock and quietly call Childe’s name, but he doesn’t surface like he usually does -At first it seems like no luck, but your ears pick up the sound of someone groaning -You hop off and hide behind the rocks, certain that it’s someone coming to tell you off -But you hear no footsteps, only the waves splashing on the shore and quiet breathing -So you peek around to see what’s up, and your eyes fall on a man laying on the shore -You’ve never seen him before so you slowly walk over to get a better look -But when you get close he opens his eyes, and you’re suddenly staring into the deep sea -He leaps up and you jolt backwards, only to watch him stumble and fall back to his knees -He smiles brightly despite your wariness, clumsily repeating your name over and over again -You’re backing away slowly when you squint and glimpse his hair under the moonlight -It’s ginger, with a noticeable streak of white, something you’ve only seen once before -It seems like a bit of a stretch, but… -You whisper his name, as more of a question than a statement -”Childe…?” -He nods happily as you kneel beside him, wrapping his arms around you and smushing his cheek against yours -His attempts at trills and coos turn to happy hums now that he’s got human vocal cords -You feel him shiver with cold, goosebumps raising on his arms, and you draw back much to his dismay -He’s wearing only a pair of shorts and his skin is misted with seawater so you give him your coat and hurry him back to your house -When you get there you promptly wrap him in a soft blanket and make some tea -You sit next to him, rubbing your head to try and process everything, and ask him HOW THIS HAPPENED -He just shrugs- he seems very unperturbed by being human, so you decide that it’s late, you’re tired, and it’s probably just a normal thing for him -You can feel your eyes closing, and register a pair of arms pulling you close to someone’s chest -When you wake up Childe is snuggled into your side, arms loosely keeping you close. You nudge him and he blinks awake with a sleepy hum -The next week is you getting accustomed to having a human Childe following you everywhere -You teach him how to stand and walk, as well as how to talk a bit better- he’s not perfect but he can say his name and yours, and a handful of other words and sentences that he deems important -Your town is also in a tizzy seeing how the sea monster sightings have abruptly stopped, and you can only do your best to keep Childe out of sight -He’s curious about everything, and you showed him around your house as he looked around with wide eyes -But one day when you get home you hear pained whining from the living room, and you rush to see what happened -You find Childe laying on the ground in his merform, claws scrabbling at the polished floorboards -Apparently he can only keep his human form for about a week and he leans heavily on you as you rush to support him -You know he needs to go back to the sea, but a chill runs down your back when you remember the hunt -And even when you suggest it he whimpers so sadly at the thought of being separated from you -So you do the next best

thing: You help him slink up to the bathtub, fill it with water, and situate him there instead -He splashes happily around in the water, and you sit down next to the tub in relief, eventually falling asleep -You wake up to find the end of Childe’s tail draped in your lap as he naps next to you -You go about your days but check up on him whenever you can, watching as he visibly perks up when you enter the room -But you silently know that he doesn’t belong in a bathtub, so you’re not particularly surprised when he starts to act tired and listless -His scales and armor look duller and you can occasionally hear him coughing when he thinks you’re not listening -Eventually you straighten your shoulders, walk into the room, and tell him that he has to go back to the ocean -Not because you don’t want him here! But he isn’t made to live like this- he should be in the open sea -He cries out and clasps his claws on your arm, the end of his tail wrapping weakly around your wrist -You’re trying not to tear up yourself, leaning in and pressing your forehead against his as you quietly tell him that you’ll take him back tonight -He whines in dismay, nudging his head into your hands, asking for a hug which you gladly give -When night falls, you make sure no one is around before helping him out the door -You have to stop several times to makes sure he can breathe properly, but luckily your house is close to the beach and you arrive without any interruptions -Childe wedges himself in your arms and gives you a gentle lick on the cheek, then reluctantly slips into the sea -You watch him swim out, turn to glance at you one more time, then dive underneath the waves -You stand there for a bit, contemplating the moonlight, before leaving to go home -The next day the beach is empty, most people having assumed that the “sea monster” is long gone -You take a stroll up to your little rock and sit down, enjoying the sun -Something knocks against your foot, and you look down to see a perfect pearl settled in a groove -A deep purr threads itself around the splashing waves, a shining eye blinking at you, and you smile

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

feat. Bokuto Koutaro

Previously:  Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro. Tsukkishima Kei

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 4.1k

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Angst, Hogwarts AU, Bokuto / Reader

Summary: Tutoring Bokuto Kotaro in Charms seems like a waste of your time. But then you get to know the Hufflepuff seeker, and start looking forward to your tutoring sessions with him.  

A/N: Comments as always, are much welcomed. Feel free to shout at me anytime!

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“I’m Bokuto!”

You stare coldly at the large hand shoved into your face. “Yes, I know. And so?” You arch an eyebrow and let your question linger awkwardly in the air. Surprisingly, even that fails to  dampen the brightness of the grin on his face, despite the fact that any other student would have turned tail and run at being on the receiving end of the resident Ice Queen of Slytherin’s glares. 

Your Charms professor coughs into his hand. “Ah. Yes. Bokuto requires some tutoring assistance, and I thought you’d be the right person to help out.”

You open your mouth in protest, but clamps it shut at the look of warning the professor shoots at you. It’s your bad luck you got caught sneaking books out of the restricted section of the library, it wasn’t as if the books you had your eye on contained dark magic in any case, they  just contained spells deemed too dangerous for idiots like the one standing before you to even attempt. And instead of detention for a month, your Charms Professor who’s always had a soft spot for you suggested you divert your free time to tutoring struggling students instead. 

“Fine”, you snap before turning to the boy. “You better not be as bad as Ushijima - Merlin only knows he was as dumb as a bag of bricks”. 

Bokuto agrees to meet you every Tuesday in an unused classroom for Charms tutoring. You do not care that he seems to wilt ever so slightly at the insults you lob at his Hufflepuff teammate - you have no time to suffer fools, after all. 

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Unfortunately, while Bokuto doesn’t take everything as literally as Ushijima (it was a problem you faced when you tutored the stone faced boy, especially for a subject requiring as much personal flair as Charms), he struggles with the precise motions and pronunciation needed for Charm incantations, and you’re losing your patience with him after he messes up Aguamenti for the tenth time today. 

“You need to move your wand like a wave of water before pointing it sharply - like you’re shooting a jet of water into a glass”, you repeat yourself in exasperation. 

He tries his best, waving his wand exaggeratedly but forgets the emphasis on the second syllable, so his wand remains completely dry. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. “Look - it’s really not that hard. If you remembered all the notes I gave you about this charm, you’d have gotten it by now. Merlin - what’s wrong with you dumb Quidditch Players?” 

“It’s not that easy to remember everything when you keep calling me dumb all the time”, Bokuto mutters, resentment colouring his tone. 

Your shock that Bokuto - the human embodiment of a sunbeam, seems to have abandoned his usual cheerfulness for an uncharacteristically stormy expression, quickly morphs into annoyance that he has the temerity to get short with you considering you’re the one that’s been forced to give up her Tuesday evenings in an attempt to get him to pass his Charms exams. 

“That’s because you ARE dumb”, you retort coolly. “Try casting the charm again”. 

He shocks you again by gathering his things and walking out of the classroom. 

“Where are you going?”, you call after him, confused. Even Ushijima put up with your insults and snide remarks for an entire term, but Bokuto doesn’t even look back.  

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Bokuto doesn’t turn up next week either despite struggling in class with the very charm you spent hours trying to hammer into his head. Nor the week after that. Midterms come and go, and you overhear from a group of his twittering fangirls in the bathroom that his spot on the Quidditch team is on the line after failing his Charms exam as expected. 

Guilt gnaws at you. Strange, since you assumed your heart is practically a block of ice by now. 

You spend days trying to corner him to no avail. You always knew he had plenty of friends, but you didn’t realise how popular he actually was. He’s constantly surrounded by his teammates - or even other Quidditch players like Kuroo from Slytherin, or Hinata from Gryffindor, and his childhood best friend Akaashi follows him like a shadow despite being from Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff. 

So you bide your time and wait until he finishes Quidditch practice, whispering from the shadows “Diffindo” to sever the straps of his bag. Your plan works - Bokuto cheerfully waves his teammates to go on without him, and the horde of hungry Hufflepuff Quidditch players head off to the Great Hall for dinner. 

“Why haven’t you come back for tutoring sessions?” You try to sharpen your question into an accusation, but your guilt makes you falter midway and you just sound bewildered instead. 

Your bewilderment is mirrored in Bokuto’s eyes. “Huh?” he frowns. “I thought you didn’t want to tutor me in the first place, so I asked my friends to help me out instead.”

You snort, tapping your foot. “Akaashi’s a year below, so I doubt he’s much help, and Kuroo’s much better at potions than at charms. And I hear you’re going to get kicked off the team if you don’t pull up your Charms grades in the remedial exams before Christmas.” 

The furrow between his brows deepens. “Why do you care if I’m failing my exams?” 

You’re not accustomed to dealing with someone so straightforward and genuine and innocent. You’re used to conniving serpents like Oikawa and Daishou who would have no hesitation hiding daggers in their sleeves just to get ahead, so the fact that his question is honest floods your belly with guilt.

“Because I feel bad for calling you dumb.” You decide to honour his honesty with a straight answer. “Do you still want me to tutor you if I promise to be nice?” 

Any shadow of lingering guilt is chased away by the sheer sunniness of his smile. 

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The ice in your heart starts to thaw in the face of his exuberance and friendliness. 

“You’re much nicer than people say you are”, he tells you one day with blunt honesty. “Why don’t you have more friends?”

You shrug, accustomed to the title that your peers have chosen to label you with. The Ice Queen of Slytherin, your housemates whisper behind your back after you slash Miya Atsumu’s robes in your second year, leaving him standing in nothing but his underwear after he pulled your bra strap on a dare. 

Your mother and older sisters taught you self-defense charms even before you entered Hogwarts, and you have no qualms about using them, even against one of the most popular boys in your house. But it proves to be a miscalculation - one that leaves you with few friends other than those who’ve known you since your childhood. 

“I don’t need friends”, you say, words frigid. 

He grins at you, undeterred. “I’ll be your friend!” He declares, leaning forward, balancing his chair precariously on two legs. 

“I’d be happier if you pass your exam”, you tell him dismissively, though there’s an amused curl at the corner of your lips. 

True to his word, Bokuto drags Akaashi over to the Slytherin table during dinner the very next day. You startle as he plops into the empty seat across you, Akaashi giving you a slight nod of acknowledgement that’s also tinged with an unspoken ‘sorry you have to put up with my overly excitable best friend these days’ that you snort at. 

Kuroo rounds up the trio, and between his and Bokuto’s bickering over who’s getting the best pickings from the meat dishes on the table, and Akaashi’s admonishments not to cause a ruckus that fall on deaf ears, you’re so entertained that you laugh aloud, though you wince internally when half the Slytherin table snaps their heads around to stare at you, dumbfounded. 

Miya Osamu actually looks up from his katsudon to elbow his brother. Miya Atsumu chokes on his food. 

You assume it was just a one-off event, Bokuto just trying to repay you with his kindness, but to your surprise, he’s back at least twice a week, and soon your lonely corner at the Slytherin table turns into the most boisterous ones. His very presence draws the most random assortment of people into his sphere - soon you’re joined by Tsukkishima, the quiet, stone faced Ravenclaw, Hinata, Bokuto’s self appointed protege and burgeoning sun in his own right, Sawamura, the stoic, steady Hufflepuff Keeper, on top of the usual suspects like Kuroo and Akaashi. 

Not everyone is as amused by this turn of events. 

“What’s he doing at our table?” 

“I heard he’s being tutored by the Ice Queen herself - maybe that’s why he’s here.” 

“That makes sense. Heard he’s really dumb.” 

You stiffen as you hear your classmates snigger. Bokuto wilts, even the ridiculous mop of hair on his head starts to droop. Kuroo and Akaashi wear twin expressions of murderous intent on their face and both start to rise, insults on their tongues when you whip out your wand, freezing your offending classmate’s lips to his glass. 

“Call him dumb one more time and I’ll freeze your balls to the bench”, you smile sweetly, poison in your words. 

Kuroo guffaws as you turn back to your conversation with them with a saccharine “now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” Akaashi snorts into his hands. 

Bokuto looks at you as if you’ve handed him the latest firebolt model on a gilded plate. You refuse to meet his eyes for the rest of the night. 

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You find that he responds far better to praise than negative reinforcement, bouncing around the classroom with such childlike enthusiasm whenever he succeeds in casting another new charm that it makes your lips tilt upwards. The combination of his Hufflepuff diligence and your renewed patience makes his performance in charms skyrocket, and soon, he’s improved enough for you to teach him the more fiddly, advanced charms. 

‘You have to flick your wrist lightly’, you tell him for the fifth time this evening. Ascendio is a difficult charm to master, even by your own standards, your own wrist already sore from the various rounds of demonstration. 

He tries to mirror your action. It doesn’t work. 

‘Um.’ You rack your brains, thinking of something, anything that might help. 

Ah.

‘You’ve got to move your whole arm like it’s the wing of a snitch. You know – keep the arm and wrist action light, like the flutter of wings.’

He furls his brow, trying to mirror your action again. It doesn’t work. This time, he pouts. 

Impatient, you grab his hand. ‘Look!’ You slap at his arm to get him to loosen up – seriously, what do they feed these quidditch players, taut muscles tensing beneath your fingers as you try to puppet his arm into an approximation of the wrist movement. He gazes down at you with wide eyes as you press your form against him. 

‘I’ll show it to you again. Ascendio’, you call, and with a sharp flick of your wrist, your feet lift off the ground, your skirt fluttering in the air. Then with a smooth swish of your wand, you descend to the ground, cocking your head to your student. ‘Come on, Bokuto, you’ve got to master it by the end of the night.’

He tries again and again to no avail. Charms is a far more creative branch of magic than transfiguration or even potions – and what works for one might not work for another. You recalibrate, trying to relate what you’re teaching to his true love - Quidditch. 

‘Maybe you could imitate the movement of a snitch about to take off once the whistle blows?’ 

 ‘A snitch?’ he laughs boisterously at your suggestion. ‘I could do that.’ 

He screws up his eyes tightly, his entire body falling still before he raises his arm. With a flick and swish, a hooted “Ascendio”, Bokuto floats up into the air.

“I did it!” He pumps his fists in the air, grinning down at you. Then with a smooth finite incantatem, he descends back to the grimy classroom floor. 

“Well done!” You laugh aloud, clapping your hands, so drunk with elation at his success that you don’t notice the sudden softness in his golden eyes. 

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“Waiting for Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks. 

You hesitate for a beat, a pink tint to the apples of your cheeks before you nod without a word. 

“I’ll leave you two be then”, the Ravenclaw boy says, walking off with his hands tucked in his robes, a small smile flickering on his face. 

You exhale slowly through your nose. Maybe you should have left Akaashi to wait for Bokuto instead - they’re best friends, practically platonic soulmates you gather from Bokuto’s chatter as he walks you back to the Slytherin dungeons every Tuesday night, something he insists on despite your protests. You’re just his tutor - but here you are, hanging around outside the classroom where his remedial exam is being held, palms clammy in nervous anticipation. 

You tell yourself that you’re waiting for him because you can’t wait to know whether the tutoring sessions that take up your precious Tuesday evenings will end. You wonder if that means that he’ll stop coming over to hang out over dinner with you, the thought making your heart feel as if it’s frosted over again. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” His booming voice interrupts your reverie, and you glance up to see him burst out of the classroom, the joy on his face outshining even the sun. 

“You passed, I assume”, you snark, hands on hips, but he doesn’t even register your badly disguised coldness, grabbing by the waist to lift you easily into the air, spinning you in circles until you’re both giddy with delight. 

“I did, I did, thanks to you!” He crows, still clinging on to you like a lifeline. “They were so impressed when I cast Ascendio, and I was like swish, and they were like aughhh wahhhhh - and it was so awesome!” 

“I’m glad my effort paid off then, dummy”, you tease - seriously, it would make your housemates’ jaws drop if they caught you giggling, let alone being held aloft in Bokuto’s arms, but you’re just so happy for him that you don’t order him to put you down. 

He stills suddenly, and you’re worried that he’s taken offense at the affectionate nickname until you notice his eyes are trained at the arch above you and oh - 

Mistletoe. 

It’s Christmas, and the house elves have hung enchanted sprigs of mistletoe around the castle on the orders of the mischievous headmaster to prank unsuspecting students. Any student trapped under enchanted mistletoe may only be released upon giving or receiving a kiss, and you’re about to press a chaste kiss to Bokuto’s nose when you glance back at him and notice his eyes are molten gold, laden with desire. 

“Bokuto - “ you begin, but you’re promptly cut off by the searing brand of his lips against yours, gasping as he backs you against the wall, his mouth plundering yours. You should protest, but any sentient thought you might have is lost in your newly awakened hunger for him, this beautiful, sweet boy with golden eyes and silver hair who’s kissing you. 

“I like you,” he says breathlessly when you finally push him away in an effort to pull air into your deprived lungs. “Go out with me - please?” he adds, almost as an afterthought, brushing his thumb against your cheek with a gentleness that belies his large frame crowding you against the wall. 

You want to, oh Merlin - you want to indulge in the warmth that’s starting to sprout in the previously frozen tundra of your heart but you have to recognise that he’s Bokuto Koutaro, Quidditch player extraordinaire bound for the professional leagues, so popular that he already has a fanclub in school. 

And you - you were a social pariah before you met him, you would ruin his reputation if anyone finds out that you’re in a relationship with him, not to mention you’ve been accused of being cold and distant and harsh - all characteristics that disqualify you from being a good match for him. 

“I can’t.” You shake your head, keeping him an arm’s length distance from you, because if he comes any closer, you might lose your resolve. “We wouldn’t work out at all”.

The golden light dims in his eyes, and his arms fall limply to his side.  “Is it because I’m dumb?” He asks, his voice heartbreakingly quiet. 

“No!” You cry, taking a step towards him. “That’s not it at all!” 

He frowns, confused. “Then why don’t you wanna go out with me? Don’t you like me?” 

“I do”, you admit, hating yourself for having to extinguish the spark of hope in his eyes. “But we won’t work out -” 

“Why’re you so sure of that?” He takes a step forward, reaching towards you. You knock his hands away and he stumbles back, stung. 

“Because I’m not good enough for you!” You shout, your words echoing against the castle walls. “Because I’m snarky and frigid and cold and rotten to the core - and you’re wonderful and funny and sweet and you deserve so much better than me”. 

Your words stun him into silence, and before he can work out a response, before your resolve starts to crumble, you take a large step away from him. With trembling hands, you reinforce the frozen fort in your heart, forcing yourself to beat a hasty retreat. 

“Besides”, you add, voice shaking. “What could I possibly offer you?” 

You disappear around the corner, coldly ignoring him even as he calls your name. 

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

“He’s wandering around the castle like a lovelorn ghost”, Akaashi says, dropping into the library seat across yours. 

“Explain why that makes it my business”, you hiss with the indignation of a cornered boggart with no means of escape. 

He just gives you a knowing look and you glance at the skulking librarian, wondering if you should risk a detention to drive your sharpest quill into the back of the Ravenclaw boy’s hand. 

“You know, it’s sad you think so little of Bokuto-san that you refuse to allow him to make choices for himself.” 

“What are you - “ 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” His gaze remains resolute, even as you snarl. “Why don’t you prove me wrong?” 

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

But you’re stubborn, so you avert your eyes whenever Bokuto comes into your line of sight, changing seats so you don’t sit anywhere near him in Charms, escaping whenever he tries to call your name. Your Tuesday tutoring sessions with him are a thing of the past. You even hear from Miya Osamu that Bokuto’s been trying and failing to bribe first years into letting him into the Slytherin Dungeons, though they’re all far too frightened of your reputation to even dream of crossing you, not even for the bait of a ride on his rare firebolt.

You’re lonely, but you refuse to admit it to yourself.   

You even refuse to watch the match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin despite it being touted as the social event of the year. Both team’s lineups are exceedingly impressive. Representing Hufflepuff there are powerful players like Bokuto, Ushijma, Azumane, even surly Kyoutani. Slytherin’s certainly no slouch either, with Oikawa, Suna, Daishou, Kuroo and the Miya twins. 

But you huddle in the library and ignore the screams and cheers of the whole school spectating the match until Akaashi skids into the library, distress clear on his face. 

“He’s injured”, he manages to spit out between heaving breaths, and you don’t even need to ask who he is, panic turning your ribs into kindling, burning a blaze through your chest as you sprint full speed towards the hospital wing. 

Quidditch is a horrendously dangerous sport - the Daily Prophet Sports Section is full of horrendous injuries like long lasting concussions and smashed bones that you’re already imagining the worst by the time you cross the threshold of the hospital wing. But Bokuto’s not even lying on the cot - he’s sitting upright, a confused yet hopeful expression on his face as you stare at him, dumbfounded. 

“A-Akaashi said you were injured”, you manage to stutter. 

Bokuto waves a bandaged finger at you. “Yep”, he says, taking wary steps one at a time towards you. “Suna got me good when I was about to catch the snitch”. 

“Oh”, you say lamely. “I see.” You’re thankful no one else is in the hospital wing to see your disgrace. “I’ll be going, then”. 

“Wait! Please don’t run away again”, he begs, taking advantage of your distracted state to catch your hand, his fingers circling your wrist easily. You tug against his grip, but it’s futile - you’ve left your wand in the library in your mad rush, and years of Quidditch training have sculpted Bokuto into the human embodiment of a brick wall.

“Let go of me!” You order him in the coldest tone you can muster. It’s not even icy - in fact, it’s probably lukewarm.  

He shakes his head, as stubborn as you. “Not until you hear me out”, he replies, pulling you out of the hospital wing into the nearest unused classroom. 

“Fine.” You cross your arms. “What do you want to say to me then?”

“Well for starters, you’re the most amazing, scary girl I know”, he says, grinning boyishly at you. “You’re so much smarter than me I don’t know how your head doesn’t go pfft cos it sure isn’t large enough to hold all your brains. And you’re nice - I don’t know why you pretend you’re not - Yachi said you cursed the boys who teased her ‘cos you found her in the bathroom crying, even though you literally met her for the first time - “ 

“Why are you telling me this?” You cut in, confused. 

“Cos you asked me what you could offer me” He answers simply, his fingers slotting in between yours. “The answer is you. I want you. I like you.” His grin softens into a bashful, goofy, adorable smile. “And I know I’m not smart like you or Akaashi, but I know enough to think you like me too.”  

Your mind is entreating you not to give in, reminding you that you’ll only drag him down with you but your selfish heart wins out. The weeks you’ve voluntarily isolated yourself from Bokuto have been cold and lonely, and the truth is you miss him - you miss the silly jokes he makes, the playful banter, his boundless confidence and kindness and friendliness. Maybe that makes you selfish, but you can’t deny it any longer, you want him for yourself.

So you reply with a shy smile of your own. “Maybe I do - like you, I mean���, you say, with an earnestness you must have learnt from him, tilting your face up towards him like a flower seeking the sun. 

His eyes grow wide with delight as you step into the circle of his arms, allowing him to draw you against his broad chest. 

“And to be honest, maybe I’m the fool for not letting myself admit that I’ve always liked you”. 

“Don’t call yourself tha - mmmph!” 

This time it’s your turn to interrupt him with a kiss, tipping his head down to slide your lips against his, the heat in his eyes and the sunshine in his smile that finally melting the last vestiges of ice in your heart and transforming you from a snow maiden into a girl made of flesh and bone. 

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

Akaashi convinces you to sneak into the holding area before the next match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. 

You’re self conscious, constantly adjusting the scarf in Hufflepuff yellow and black looped around your throat, but that immediately dissolves when Bokuto whoops the minute he spots you, bounding over to sweep you into an embrace, demanding at least twenty kisses before he lets you go. 

You oblige, because when faced with Bokuto’s pleading eyes, you’re weak, soft.  

Then you realise why Akaashi was so insistent on you surprising Bokuto just before his big match. 

Miya Atsumu falls off his broom, slack jawed. Miya Osamu trips over him. Even Suna Rintarou looks at you and Bokuto with a modicum of fear and respect. 

“Get it together!” Kuroo snaps at his team, hands on hips. 

None of that registers with Bokuto, of course. The minute the whistle blows, he speeds off, leaving even Oikawa in the dust, and before a dazed Miya Atsumu even scores once against Daichi, the Hufflepuff keeper, Bokuto is already holding the golden snitch aloft in his hand. He proceeds to do laps of aerial cartwheels around the pitch before hovering in front of the stands where you sit, shamelessly blowing kisses towards you. 

You hide your burning face in your hands. Akaashi just sits beside you, intolerably smug. Bokuto, oblivious as ever, just whoops.

[lil-tachyon]

Another year- and a big one at that. Surprisingly, I actually feel like I met most of my art goals from last year. Coelum got released after several years of work. Burzok's got done too, and I should finally have my grimy fingers on a print copy in the next couple weeks. Biggest of all, I quit my engineering job to do art for a living (which has pretty much been my goal since my first week of having a job). Big stuff.

Goals for 2022:

-Come up with a framework for making money. The cruel reality I must face. Not actually that bad, everybody's got to do something for a living. Right now I have ample commission work and I actually quite enjoy doing it, but per hour it really doesn't pay that much. I will probably be revising pricing soon once I catch up on the commissions I owe people. Will also be trying to cultivate alternative revenue streams (hey did you know I have a Patreon where I post sketches and previews and unreleased art?). This is going to involve experimentation. I think the best thing, long term, will be to release more books. Not all of them will be successful but ultimately for financial independence, having something I can sell is probably the way to go. Plus I love doing books.

-Get a website and a mailing list up and running. I don't want to be dependent on social media to get my stuff out there. I'd like to have more control over how my drawings are presented. Very long term, (years down the line) I'd like to get off social media entirely. I don't want to be a father with children and still be checking twitter, that's embarrassing. Plus it'd be helpful to direct people to a gallery instead of typing in my stupid username on instagram whenever people ask to see my stuff. I think I can get a basic website up by end of January, that's the goal at least

-Experiment more! The upside of doing so much client work this year is it helped me cultivate a reproducible, recognizable style that I'm proud of. The downside is I haven't been able to mess around with different media, tools, workflows, etc. What is real art if not experimentation? I am glad that I'm finally working towards consistently painting stuff I'm proud of, but I only finished 3 paintings in 2021. Unacceptable! However, already since I've been doing this full time I've been messing around with new stuff daily, so I hope to see the fruits of that by the end of 2022.

-3D. I'm not really into 3D art super much but I've recently found some artists I really like and want to emulate, plus talking with some professionals they recommended I pick it up as a skill. On that note, I've been teaching myself Blender for the last couple weeks. This one's slow going and I probably won't be able to lean into it for a few months, so don't expect renders from me any time soon.

-Burzok's sequel. Not necessarily a direct sequel to Burzok's Mercenary Handbook, but myself and the rest of the Burzok's editorial team are already in early talks to do another book together. Don't expect news until at least spring, though.

-Not art related, but I barely got to play music in 2021. More time spent playing guitar and banjo is a must for 2022.

That's about it. I should note that none of this would be possible without my wife working insanely hard to support us and I love her for that and so should you. Peace out, Happy New Year you dweebs. Thanks for sticking around.

[odos-bucket]

Bruce Being Super Protective of His Kids in Their Out-Of-Costume Lives Pt. 2

(Or as this series is becoming: Bruce Looking After His Kids at Fancy Parties)

Part 1

Jason isn’t particularly well adapted to the kinds of social gatherings that Bruce’s position within the city demands they participate in. He attends his first event a few months into his stay at Wayne manor. He goes in fully expecting it to be terrible, and is not disappointed.

The old ladies trying to pinch his cheeks were something that Dick had warned him about. His tone had been light, like maybe it was something that he thought was funny, or was trying to think of as funny. But Jason doesn’t like to be touched, not by people he doesn’t know. He doesn’t think Dick was trying to scare him exactly, but he accomplishes it anyway.

From the time the shindig begins he’s wound so tight he’s practically vibrating. He has no idea how he’s supposed to act at something like this. Things he’s never thought about before are suddenly tormenting him. He can’t figure out what he should be doing with his hands, or how to stand. He’s never been self conscious, but now he’s in this stupid room, wearing this stupid suit, surrounded by these stupid people, and it’s making him feel awkward.

The first time somebody tries to touch him he flinches away violently. He doesn’t mean to; it’s just what happens. It earns him a series of incredulous looks, from the man who had made the mistake of putting a hand on his shoulder, and a few other people in the vicinity.

Jason relocates himself quickly, though there’s no destination for him that’s that much better than where he’s already been. The various corners of the crowd all feel more or less the same, all absurd, all suffocating.

The next time someone tries to touch him, it’s his face. He had already decided that he didn’t like the woman in question before it happened. Her voice is an annoying pitch. Her words are all condescending. And even before reaching out for him she had been standing way too close.

If the proximity hadn’t been enough to put him on high alert the patronizing way she spoke to him certainly would have done it.

When her fingers come to press against his chin- as if she wants to turn his head to examine him- he pushes her away. Again, he doesn’t mean to do it exactly. It’s an instinctive reaction (and a pretty reasonable one, he thinks).

This time, however, he gets more than a few suspicious stares. The movement itself had been subtle enough not to draw any attention he didn’t already have. But the woman replies with an outraged squawk, that suddenly brings dozens of eyes onto them.

Jason freezes. Being stared at had been pretty high on his list of things to avoid tonight. And now people are talking.

“Why you little-“

“What happened?”

“Wayne’s new pet project-“

“Did you just hit her?”

“Delinquent-“

“Did he just hit her?”

The woman he shoved looks like she might be about to slap him, but he’s honestly less concerned about that than he is about the mix of curious and indignant bystanders drawing closer. They’re not surrounding him really, but it sure as hell feels like they’re trying to. Jason’s having a hard time processing anything beyond the impulse to lash out again, not to hurt anyone, just to get them away, so that maybe he can get away.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Oh god, Bruce. Jason’s not surprised the scene got his attention, but he’s a little startled to hear a much darker tone than his regular civilian voice.

Bruce forces his way through the crowd. Some of the onlookers redirect their attention away as he approaches. A handful of voices from different directions make overlapping attempts to answer his question. Jason hears something about how he’s, “not as well behaved as your last stray,” but isn’t looking up in time to see how the comment makes Bruce bristle.

He reaches them in seconds, takes in the woman’s body language, and immediately drags her several feet back from Jason. When he speaks, he manages to sound like Batman (at least to Jason’s knowing ears), even without the voice modulator.

“You will never put your hands on my child again.”

“I didn-“ the woman begins. “Your urchin-“

“Did you touch him?”

“I was only-“

“Yes or no.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” she scoffs.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“Mr. Wayne, the kid attacked her. All she did was touch him.” The man who interrupts is in the minority, in that he has not had the good sense to pretend not to be paying attention to the whole scene.

Bruce’s jaw grinds, as he looks slowly between the man and the woman.

“So you did touch him.”

Bruce knows that Jason doesn’t like to be touched, knows that he can have something like a fear response to it, if it comes unexpectedly. And there are very few things that he hates more than his kids being scared. But he also knows better than to publicly chastise socialites specifically for scaring him, knows better than to bring his fear to people’s attention.

“This is ridiculous,” she says.

“On that we’re agreed.” Bruce slips further into his regular public persona as he speaks.

He looks around. First at Jason, taking stock of him, making sure he’s all right. Then to what remains of the audience they’d acquired, making pointed eye contact, silently subduing any conflict before it can arise. By the time he turns back to where the woman was, she’s hurried away. The sparse handful of people still shooting them scandalized glares are easy to ignore.

Bruce approaches Jason.

“You okay?”

He nods at first, then shrugs. He’s not sure if he wishes that things didn’t bother him as much, or just that people would quit doing the things that do bother him. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m never going to be good at this.” It isn’t an apology, or an admission of guilt, more like he’s daring Bruce to tell him that he needs to be.

Bruce makes a sweeping gesture around them.

“You’re clearly not the only one.”

An amused little half smile quirks onto Jason’s face, and Bruce revels in it.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Jason really does. But he still hesitates.

“I’m not sure if I can remember how to get back.” He’s still not that familiar with this part of the city.

“What?” Bruce looks genuinely confused. “No. Jason, I’m going to take you home.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean, if you want to.”

Bruce smiles at his feigned nonchalance.

“Do you have a jacket?”

Jason tugs at the fabric of his suit coat.

“Is this not a jacket?”

“I suppose it is. It’s chilly out though.”

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Like Dick didn’t run around in his underwear twelve months out of the year.”

Bruce lowers his voice slightly.

“Yes but not for lack of me trying to get him to put pants on.” His tone is unnecessarily serious.

Jason wants to laugh. Instead he rolls his eyes again.

They leave the party without further incident, catching a cab back to the manor.

There are things that Bruce did with Dick that he learned quickly not to do with Jason, patting him on the back, ruffling his hair, putting a hand on his arm. But when Jason takes the initiative to reach out, he never pulls away. He takes the middle seat in the taxi, putting him immediately next to Bruce, their arms pressed directly against each other. Bruce delights in his son’s closeness.

---

Bruce’s “outburst” is all over the news for the next week. Alfred buys a copy of the first tabloid to print a headline about it, and hangs it on the refrigerator.

Jason isn’t sure why, the whole thing was awful and embarrassing, but he find himself smiling whenever he glances up at it.

[luminari-mc]

My Human, My Sunshine - Part 2

Pairing: GN!MC x Mammon

Genres: Angst, hurt/comfort.

Word count: 4642

Warnings: N/A

Summary: As a human and a demon get to enjoy the presence of one another again, Mammon knows deep down that behind this ephemeral bliss, hides a looming and powerful storm.

PART 1 - PART 2 -

A/N: it's almost Mammon's birthday! And as promised, here is part 2 of my little series! While part 1 was made to place several plot points here and there, this chapter really starts to set things in motion for future chapters, and especially part 3.

All I have to say here is... Enjoy the fluff while it lasts.

___________________________________________

For the first time in a while... the human world felt much more colorful. Much more silent. It was as if life itself had been born anew, the suffocating darkness engulfing the world having been cast away for the light to reclaim its rightful ownership. The evil dragon of separation had finally been put to rest, and so, the chirping of the birds quickly replaced the self-deprecating thoughts of the people.

The only question left on the people's minds, as their bodies embraced so close to one another throughout the night, rejoicing to finally be back in the other's company, was... for how long, would that blissful respite last?

The night had been deep and short, but much welcoming. The weariness that had taken over the couple's bodies over the past two months had thoroughly vanished, as if all of this had been nothing but a bad dream. How much they wished it had been the case, and that the kisses they had shared the previous night didn't have to be ones filled with the need to feel the other's presence so desperately, for their minds to realize that they were here, and he was here, together in the same room at long last.

A human hand gently caressed a white-haired head, the demon to which it belonged still soundly asleep. Despite it being a few hours after dawn, MC had only recently opened their eyes to the first rays of sunlight, finding themself still in the same position as they had fallen asleep in. Mammon's arms were still firmly wrapped around their frame, their proximity allowing him to breathe in the scent of their skin as his nose brushed against their collarbone each time his chest rose up in his sleep.

Remaining laid down on their side, the human could only keep still and watch the face of their demon in adoration, still unsure whether they really had him in their bed with him, or if the loneliness of the past few weeks had truly made them lose their mind beyond salvation.

But as their fingers gently passed in his hair, their caresses never ending, MC couldn't help but wonder... what had Mammon done since the last time they saw him? How had he spent his time in the Devildom? How were the others? And most importantly, how had he found his way to them? Not that much conversation had been achieved the previous night, to answer all of their questions... The two of them had quickly realized, as MC came to drag Mammon inside the apartment, their clothes damp from the rain that had been dripping from his body, that what they wanted, as their lips met again and again, weren't answers, but to feel each other. And before any of them could notice, they had both fallen into a deep slumber that lasted the entire night.

MC raised their head slightly to look out of the bay window on the other side of the room. Outside, they could partially perceive the colors of the other buildings of the city in the horizon, the sunlight reflecting on their windows brightly and making them squint their eyes in response. They would have preferred to be able to see the green of the trees lined up in the street below, but that was one of the many flaws of this place... the floor that Solomon had chosen for MC to reside in was just way, way too high up.

If it hadn't been for a pair of arms pulling them slightly forward, MC wouldn't have noticed the half-closed pair of blue eyes staring at them in silence. MC immediately lowered their side back against the mattress, their head meeting with the pillow once more. Under the covers, they moved a leg instinctively against Mammon's.

"Good morning." They whispered through a smile, a sound so affectionate to one demon's ears that his hand slid from under the blanket to place itself on the human's cheek.

"Is this a dream?"

Mammon's words surprised them, but only for a short second. The demon's expression was nothing but serious, a slightly furrowed brow adorning his forehead as if he was expecting to receive a positive, yet disappointing answer to his question. Instead, MC's smiled turned only sweeter. They closed their eyes before pulling Mammon closer to them.

"It's not a dream." They felt him place his face in the crook of their neck. "You're with me, and I'm with you. It's for real."

Almost as if he was holding back tears, Mammon inhaled deeply, before closing the empty space between his body and MC's until there was nothing left. Their hand was brought back to the back of his head, drawing slow circles in the hopes of soothing him.

"I still can't believe it." His words seemed to be on the verge of breaking up as they slipped through his gritted teeth. "It feels like you've been gone for a thousand years, even worse... Why the hell did I only find ya now..."

"Mammon..." MC opened their eyes again to urgently place a gentle kiss on top of the demon's head. "What's important is that you found me. It is much better than if a thousand years had really passed, don't you think?"

Mammon's head leaned away from the warmth of their neck, his glassy eyes able to meeting theirs again. His mouth stayed agape for a few seconds, before both of his hands cupped MC's face in place.

"I know I asked last night, but you sure you're okay, right? Nobody has hurt you or experimented on you or anythin'?"

"I'm okay, Mammon." They placed their hands on top of his, a small chuckle escaping through their lips. "I swear, all I did was practice magic with Solomon and live a boring human life."

"But you sure it was normal magic? What if it was some weird spells and he was secretly messing with your body without you knowing?"

His worry made them sigh softly, their thumbs brushing the back of his hands. It was understandable for him to be so concerned for their safety, after receiving no news in such a long time. And the demons had always been wary of Solomon ever since they had known the wizard, to the point where MC themself, had even grown to wonder why Solomon had been acting the way he did, since they had gone back to the human world.

"I promise you." They responded, yet unsure themself of the veracity of their words. "Nothing has been done to me."

Silence fell between the both of them again, a staring contest where Mammon was expecting them to let go of a much harder truth, which never came. He was the first to break eye contact, rather preferring to stare into the space between MC's head and the pillow.

"Solomon... He's hidin' something too. I just know it"

His sudden pouting mouth and words made MC blink. "Too? What do you mean...?"

After marking a wordless pause, Mammon's hands slid off their cheeks, his upper body rising up as he sat himself into the bed. The sheets fell onto his hips, leaving his arm exposed for MC to grab in case he was trying to avoid their question and get up. But instead, all he did was pass a hand through his hair as a deep sigh left his lungs.

"Mammon?" MC called out, their voice starting to show concern due to the demon's sudden secrecy. But as they read his expression a bit more clearly from their laid position in the bed, and as they watched the creases between his eyebrows form, and his jaw clenching, they realized that... Mammon probably knew more about all this than themself.

"A... A lot of shit went down ever since you left, MC." The demon kept his palm in his hair, leaving his forehead exposed. "It's gone bad, and I just... I-I just dunno what to do anymore."

It wouldn't take a genius to see how perturbed Mammon was about this subject- you just had to see the way his fingers had wrapped around his own hair, almost as if he was about to pull a handful, the questions in his mind twirling in a never-ending whirlpool of torment. One thing MC was grateful for, however, was how much more open he had become with them ever since they had known each other.

As MC propped themself on their elbow, they allowed their hand to wander up and down Mammon's arm to remind him of their presence.

"... Do you want some breakfast? I'd rather you explain everything while stuffing yourself with waffles. I make them delicious, I promise."

Although he glanced at them from the corner of his eyes, his pout only seemed to double. MC stopped their hand from rubbing his skin before placing it above his own, their thumb gently brushing the back of it. Like a timid child, his cheeks darkened, letting his voice, now low, respond to their question.

"I... could go with some of your waffles."

After putting some clothes on, apart from Mammon who could only rely on one of MC's loose jogging pants due to his clothes from the previous night still dripping wet on a nearby chair-, MC made their way to the kitchen to prepare something for their demon.

Throughout the whole process, Mammon never left their side. Once his arms had been locked around their frame from behind as they began preparing the waffles, he hadn't let go. His chin remained on their shoulder, his body moving alongside them whenever they had to go to a cabinet to grab a bowl, a whip, or even when they went to pick the different ingredients for the batter. MC had asked in the beginning "are you sure you don't want to sit at the table?", wanting him not to be standing more than his tired legs could bear. But their question was only met with a shaking of his head, before his forehead met with the warmth of their skin. "I'm good there", he had answered. And so MC let him hold on to them, enjoying the feeling of his arms around their waist, and the few kisses he would place here and there alongside their neck and cheek. This calm, this peace, this comfortable silence... they had forgotten what it felt like.

Once all the batter had been changed into hot and steamy waffles, and the rest of the breakfast had been made, the couple sat around the kitchen table.

"So... is it that bad?" MC placed their hands around their hot cup of cocoa, taking a sip of the drink as Mammon filled his mouth with a waffle he had covered in strawberry jam. MC had insisted that he was to eat his batch first, with him having barely eaten anything the previous day. Even if he was a demon, he needed to have a proper morning meal.

"It's almost as if you had never been in the house in the first place." Mammon answered after swallowing his bite. "Satan went back on being super pissy with Lucifer for the smallest things, Levi eats his meals in his room and never comes out. I see Asmo buyin' even more beauty products than usual and he's constantly askin' us if "this and that" suits him, to the point where it's ridiculous. Beel almost stopped eating entirely because he was too worried for ya. If it weren't for Belphie, he would have turned into a literal stick. Now Belphie sleeps more often too. And Lucifer, he..."

He stabbed one of the waffles with his fork, before tearing a piece of it with his teeth. MC's brow instantly furrowed with concern.

"He just has to know why we couldn't reach you. He's been lyin' through his teeth for weeks on end, but he thinks he's being so sly and that we're too dumb to see it." Another teared piece of the waffle disappeared into his mouth. "Like, sure, he's been way more on edge ever since you left the Devildom and even more after we've all started askin' why we couldn't talk to you, but that just shows that he knows somethin' and we don't."

With a slower movement, his fork planted into the remaining bits of the waffle. "But it's just... I don't understand, you get it? Why would he try to hide something about you from us? All of a sudden we can't send you texts or call you like we used to everytime you had to come back to the human world, and out of nowhere he starts actin' all weird about it. It's just..."

MC noticed Mammon's jaw clenching, his hand and fork immobile as it stayed firmly planted into the waffle. The demon swallowed harshly, letting the human know how the situation back at home must have been for him. Without their presence, the brothers had turned back into their previous selves, if not worse.

"What about you?" They asked, making the second-born jerk his head upward at them. "How are you feeling?"

"M-Me? It's... not important." He looked away shamefully, the pressure on the fork increasing and his nail starting to dig into his palm.

"Mammon." Their hand reached forward to wrap itself around the one that was holding the fork. "If my absence has been affecting everyone like this... I want to know how you dealt with it, too."

They patiently waited until Mammon finally dared cross his gaze with their own once again.

"I... dammit, don't laugh, okay?" He muttered. "But, I guess when we learned you didn't have your D.D.D. with ya back in the human world, I was the one with took it the worst... I grew tired of Lucifer tellin' me to be patient and wait for a replacement to get to ya, and I kinda ran to Lord Diavolo and ended up throwing a hissy fit in the middle of the throne room. Barbatos didn't like it, and neither did Lucifer. I still don't know why, but Lucifer didn't strung me from the ceiling on that day. Actually, he's mostly been yelling at us more than punishing. But I guess it doesn't really matter, since the others went all back on ganging up on me for any mistake I make."

Just as Mammon finally brought the rest of the waffle into his mouth in the hopes of not breaking up into a groaning mess, MC could swear they felt their heart sink within them. It sounded exactly like what Mammon had said. The brothers had all gone back to their old ways, with Mammon ending up as the punching bag once again. And all because they weren't around anymore?

"I'm... I'm sorry." Their throat tightened, a sense of guilt starting to wash over them. "If I knew you guys were having it this bad, I'd- I should have been way more insistent with Solomon, I should have kept asking to see you more than I did when-"

"Wha- No no, hey, it's not your fault!" Mammon exclaimed, panic settling in as MC started taking the blame on themself. "I mean, no one coulda thought that you'd be gone for this long... And that we'd be all negative for not being able to call you and stuff..."

Mammon passed a hand over his neck, the other covering MC's fist with its warmth. His eyes drifted to the side.

"We just... ya know. Grew used to havin' ya around. Guess it messed up our heads pretty good, and in the end, hatin' on each other seemed like the only solution to keep us busy.... I think."

MC's stomach churned uncomfortably as they sat there silently, slowly processing Mammon's words. What they wouldn't give to have sensed sooner that the brothers were also out of the loop in this situation, and ask Solomon for answers in the first few weeks after being back in the human world with him. How could they have been so passive about this? How could they have been so blind?

"MC."

Mammon's voice pulled them out of their thoughts, as they raised their eyes back onto him. "Huh?"

"What did Solomon say? About you not being able to see us?"

"Hum..." Their brain replayed the fuzzy memories of what happened two months earlier.

"Well, you remember how we all said our goodbyes to each other before I left the Devildom? It was in the student's council meeting room, like usual. But Diavolo had said that I would need to fill some papers before entering the portal, so I guess since we all were used to saying goodbye like this by now, we didn't really see the harm in having you brothers all leave the room before I entered the portal."

They instinctively bit the corner of their bottom lip. "Which left me, Barbatos and Diavolo in the room. Diavolo said something about needing my D.D.D. to replace it with an upgraded version, which I thought was weird at the time since Karasu had always warned me when it needed repairs or to update an app. But I trusted Diavolo, so I gave it to him, and he said I should receive the new one shortly through Solomon. After that, I got into the portal, but never received the phone, and Solomon started saying all these excuses..."

"What excuses?" Mammon asked, pressing on the matter out of curiosity, but mostly because of the bubbling rage that was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

"At first he explained that the new D.D.D. took some time to be shipped to Lord Diavolo, but-- it's Lord Diavolo, the literal demon prince. He knows how much I like to communicate with all of you while I'm up there, so I couldn't understand why he simply couldn't ask for the shipping to go a bit faster?" MC started moving their free hand around as they continued to explain their version of the story. "Then Solomon suddenly switched from the phone taking time to be shipped to... saying that the Devildom was dealing with some dangerous threat that came out of nowhere, and that I needed to stay away until the matter was dealt with. But in the end it just... made me want to know if you guys were okay even more..."

Neither Mammon nor MC had realized, nor heard, that a crack had begun to form under Mammon's firm grip on the edge of the table. The more he learned how many lies had been thrown in their face by the wizard, the more pressure Mammon was putting on his closed teeth. He couldn't believe Solomon had told them that they were in danger, when absolutely nothing eventful had happened during their absence. What was wrong with this guy, Lord Diavolo and Lucifer? The demon searched in his mind again and again, why his older brother would make up such an alliance with Solomon, especially to keep MC at bay- wasn't he supposed to care for them, too?

"I've heard enough." He hissed, the wood cracking even more under his palm. "Once I know what the fuck is going on with those two, I'm bringing you back home."

"Wait-" MC exclaimed, panic in their voice. "I-It has to be for a reason, right? That your story and mine aren't the same? I just- I don't understand why Diavolo and Lucifer would lie to me so that I stay in the human world, especially when they were acting like usual before I left."

"Reason or not, I don't fucking care. Shouldn't they have at least let us know if something was up?" Mammon's hands retrieved from both the table and MC's, the demon grasping the fabric of his pants harshly as he shook his head in disbelief. "Think about it, MC. If they all made up a bunch of lies so that we wouldn't be able to contact you, then it means that you're involved in this. Whatever problem it is they're hiding, they should tell you what it is, and not straight up throw you away in the human world as if neither you or ME would care about it."

The demon let out a frustrated groan as his eyes closed firmly, Mammon not understanding anything of the situation. If he and MC wanted answers, it would require to go back to either Solomon or Lucifer, but either of those options weren't at the top of his priorities right now. All he wanted at the moment, was to make sure that MC would remain safe, if they indeed were at the center of all this. He didn't want to lose them again. Two months of radio silence had already been hard enough. No, now, he would remain with them at all times. No matter if the obstacles ended up being a wizard, the demon prince, or his literal older brother.

MC's arms wrapping around his shoulders pulled him out of his dark thoughts. He opened his eyes, feeling them sitting on his lap as they hid their face into his neck. Their embrace was strong, but at the same time, gentle and comforting. He instantly felt himself melt in his seat. Slowly, his shoulders dropped, and his arms circled the human he loved the most.

"I swear it." He muttered, looking into the empty space behind them. "I'll bring you back to the house. Everyone's missing you, and... I miss you, too."

MC nodded against his neck. "I'd love that. I miss the others. I miss my room there. And you always barging in without notice."

"O-Oh, yeah, about that-" Mammon pulled them slightly away by the shoulders so he could face them. "I kinda forgot to tell ya, but... when you weren't here, I sorta felt really alone, having to sleep in my room without you around, so... uh, what I mean is that- I kinda brought most of my stuff in your-"

The demon's sentence was cut short by the melody of a ringtone at the other end of the table. Mammon looked instantly at MC's phone, arching an eyebrow both for being interrupted, but also wondering who could be calling them on their human phone at this hour.

"Ah- it's probably Solomon. He was supposed to come visit yesterday, but postponed it to today instead." MC said, not without a hint of disappointment in their voice as they got up from Mammon's lap to go grab their phone.

Mammon growled, already preparing himself mentally for possibly having the occasion to yell at the wizard for all the mess he caused, but his plan was immediately stopped by MC, who had put a finger on their lips. While Mammon started pouting, MC pressed the sleep button on the side of the phone, but opened their eyes wide as the name of the caller was written in what seemed like... the Devildom's language.

"It's- not Solomon?"

Their thumb swapped over the Accept button, and just as they placed the phone over their ear and were about to ask who it was, a voice, way too familiar to them, answered first.

"M-MC.. ?" The broken sobs mixed with the voice of none other than Leviathan, almost made MC forget how to breathe. "Aahh, I'm so glad... I-I wasn't sure if- sniffle..."

"Levi?" MC clasped their other hand over the phone, alerted by the state of the demon on the other side of the line. Behind them, Mammon practically jumped out of his seat.

"Levi?! Put him on speaker!"

MC obeyed him, quickly turning the speaker on and putting the phone in-between the two of them. The third-born's voice could now be heard in the entire room, as his desperate cries continued.

"Yo, Levi, why are you crying?! And how did you figure out how to call MC's phone?!" Mammon shouted, before approaching the phone to listen more closely. "Hey, is that Asmo I'm hearin'? Is he with you? What's happening??"

"Mammon... we were so worried- that you wouldn't find them..." Levi continued, as several people could be heard in the background, seemingly arguing with each other. "I tried really hard you know... I'm so, so sorry MC... I really tried... Please, please forgive me, I tried..."

"T-Tried? Wha- What did you try, Levi?" MC asked nervously, a knot starting to form in their throat. But the only answer they received from Leviathan, was a louder sob, soon followed by muffled cries as if the demon had stuffed his face into a pillow.

"Here- Levi, I'll talk to them." Another voice replaced Levi's, this one more composed in its tone. It increased in volume as the owner brought the phone closer to their face. "MC, Mammon? Are you still there?"

"Satan..." MC whispered, a hand placed over their chest. It had been so long since they had heard either of the other demons' voices.

"Hey, Satan, what's wrong with Levi?! I keep hearin' the others talking behind you too! I leave you guys for one day and already one of you is bawling his eyes out?!" Mammon asked urgently, obvious worry in his voice for his brother. As if the whole trip to the human world hadn't already been anxiety inducing, now something had happened within the House of Lamentation, and he wasn't there to check up on them.

On the other side of the phone, Satan clicked his tongue.

"After helping you find MC's location, Levi spent hours learning how to call a human phone with a demon one... literal hours. I'm glad it worked." He paused. "Everything would have turned out alright, if only it hadn't been for him."

While MC blinked in confusion, Mammon's breath was caught in his throat. His face turned pale, and his brow furrowed even more as the realization of what the fourth-born was trying to tell him washed over him.

"Wait... Don't tell me-"

"He's gone way too far this time." Satan hissed. Behind him, the voices of the other brothers turned quieter, the blonde demon moving away from them. "You have to leave wherever you are. While you didn't know where MC was, Mammon, I'm not doubting that he does. I don't know why he's acting the way he is but... I'm worried about MC. Mammon, you have to get them away from him."

"Wait, Satan, are you talking about-"

Two dry knocks came from the entrance door, and MC immediately shut themself up, quickly pressing the speaker off. Flipping their head alongside Mammon's towards the sound, the two's breaths turned slow and their bodies immobile, like deers caught in headlights. Neither of them dared make a sound, nor move a muscle, their eyes glued to the wood of the door as they waited for additional knocks, which never came.

Instead, after a silence that seemed to last forever, with only the now small voice of Satan hurriedly asking them from the phone if they were alright, a hue began emanating on the door. A red circle, shining a light that resembled a laser's glow, drew in the center. Several patterns followed and appeared within it, and before MC could take a step towards it, as they finally understood who was on the other side, Mammon's body immediately blocked them from advancing.

"Mammon-"

The demon raised an arm out, preventing MC from moving further away from the table. The human didn't have to see his face to know that he was preparing himself for anything- his tensed body in front of them spoke for himself.

His inner thoughts from a few minutes ago resurfaced in a flash upon sensing MC's hand on his back. No more separation. He had to protect them- stay with them. No matter the obstacle.

Even if this obstacle, turned out to be his own older brother.

"He's here."

[legends-live-in-memories]

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.  

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.  

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”  

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

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

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

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

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

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

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.  

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

[bestialchorus]

“The Invisible String” (Falling for Donna Beneviento)- Chapter 1

Donna quietly gasps as your fingers lightly brush against each other. The head of the house immediately jerks her hand away in response, acting as if the minimal contact had burned her flesh. Despite her reaction, she doesn’t completely pull away, instead her hand freezes in midair as she mentally processes what to do next, her fingers ever so slightly shaking. You watch the scene from the corner of your eye, feigning ignorance as you pick up the brush you were originally reaching for. The last thing you wanted to do was embarrass her by drawing attention to her sudden jitteriness. You take no offence as you’re well aware of how her anxiety can manifest in different ways. You instead begin painting the face of one of Donna’s latest creations, giving it your own touch of life, avoiding her gaze.

To call the air between you both as heavy would be an understatement. For Donna was quieter than usual, if that’s even possible, while thoughts plague your mind. Thoughts filled with unspoken words that prick at your tongue, wishing to be set free. You sit in silence as all

that can be heard throughout the Beneviento home is an old grandfather clock ticking away down the hall. You couldn’t help but be grateful for the ancient clock as its presence always helped anchor you to reality, an issue that proved to be difficult whenever you were near the shrouded woman.

The tension you currently feel is nothing new.  For months it’s been bubbling beneath the surface, quietly peeking through now and again. You always felt it in the woman’s presence but chose to never vocalize it, naively hoping it would go away….but it never did.

For months you desperately tried to repress how the puppeteer made you feel, only to fail miserably. Every moment with Donna threatened to take your breath away, from the passing glances, accidental touches, and restless dreams you had no control over…but how you craved them. The longer you spent within the Beneviento home, the more you tried to sever any hope of the woman returning your affections. For to hope was to dream and dreams didn’t last long within reality’s grasp, not when you were a common painter and she, a woman with status and power.

For some reason, the tension in the air feels stronger than usual or perhaps it was simply all in your head. Perhaps you��re finally being punished for your naivete as your affections now threaten to flood your system. Your heart begins to pump faster as you imagine finally confessing to the woman in black. To think, a brush of fingers would be the final straw.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This all-started months ago when a shadowy member of house Beneviento had informed you had been summoned. You couldn’t help but feel anxiety bubble in the pit of your stomach as you automatically assumed the worst. All you knew about Mistress Beneviento were the rampant rumours that swirled around why she chose to conceal her identity at all costs; some say she was born with a monstrous appearance, others believe the flesh off her face had completely melted off in a horrific accident, while someone else had personally told you she was probably a cursed body with no head at all. You had never been one for rumours, but you felt nervous all the same, what could the head of a house want with a simple artist like yourself? Surely, she could afford a painter of well-known status if she wanted a portrait done.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The pathway towards House Beneviento would only fuel the stories of horror and enigma attached to the mysterious family. Isolated on a wintery cliff, overlooking a grand waterfall, you feel every inch of your being telling you to go back the closer you get to the eerie house. Despite the status of the Beneviento name, you see no sign of life surrounding it; no groundskeepers or servants to be spoken of.

The heavy wooden door closes behind you with a loud creak. Your confusion only grows as no help comes to announce your arrival, the space is seemingly empty. Despite the home’s quiet nature, you can’t help but find it surprisingly “cozy” as deep rich wood surrounds you. Lights create a warm glow throughout the space, contrasting with the harsh winter winds you hear rattle against the windows.  

A voice suddenly speaks from the top of the stairs, making you jump back. You jerk your head towards the sound as your gaze falls on none other than the mistress of the house, Donna Beneviento. Off first glance, she is as mysterious as all the rumours suggested, covered from head to toe in a long dark dress and veil, showing no skin except for her hands. Despite the image, you don’t find her as unnerving as you originally thought you would. Sure, there was definitely something about her that was almost otherworldly but so far, not in a threatening way.

“Welcome to my home, Lady Y/N.” She greets in a low and soft voice.

You hold a hand over your heart as you wait for it to relax, she’s truly given you a fright but you’re more concerned of how she was able to appear without making her presence known. Surely you would have heard her steps against the wood, right? You shake your head of the thought as you try answer as politely as you can, having no experience interacting with anyone from the four families.

“Of course, Mistress Beneviento. It’s no trouble at all, how ah…can I be of assistance?”

The woman takes a pause before answering, almost frozen in place. You feel a bit awkward under her “gaze”, wondering if she’s silently judging you from under her veil. Finally, she extends a hand towards the hallway to her right, no rush in her movement as she answers.

“Perhaps it is better if I showed you.”

You follow her upstairs, and she leads you to a room filled with porcelain dolls, each dressed to reflect a unique personality. Upon closer inspection, you take in how much love was put into them; from ornate detailing to masterful craftmanship. Out of every scenario you could have imagined you’d find within House Beneviento, this could never have been one of them.

Donna’s voice comes out almost in a whisper.

“I could use your help bringing more to life…I’m aware of the skill you possess.”

Most would find her phrasing a bit bizarre, but you picked up on the vulnerability in her voice, highlighting just how much these dolls clearly meant to her. You turn towards her and notice how she softly runs a thumb over her other hand, you assume it to be a self-soothing technique. The gesture makes you notice how nice her hands are in shape, delicate yet slender and her nails perfectly painted.

From that day on you became Donna Beneviento’s artistic assistant, helping her paint, build and touch-up her “children”.  Days turned into weeks and weeks into months as you worked side by side in her large workshop. You honestly enjoyed the work but quickly found yourself enjoying her presence even more.

The image of the eerie woman quickly sheds away the more you get to know her. Ultimately what lies under the veil is a timid woman who preferred not to draw attention to herself. From what you can pick up, it seems all Donna wants is to live comfortably in her home while pursuing her passions. She enjoys needlework and keeping countless journals. She has little issue working well within the night whenever she started a new project of any kind. She is a far cry from the stereotypes attached to her status and rumoured state. The head of House Beneviento was instead an artistic soul who was gentle in mannerisms as she was with you.

Donna would openly concern herself with your health, showing worry whenever you got little sleep, little did she know she was often the reason for it. Her gentle voice and stunning hands would plague your mind deep within the night, refusing to let you rest. You quickly changed the subject whenever she brought up the dark circles under your eyes, embarrassed they’re from imaging how her touch would feel against your skin.

The head of the house was also unsurprisingly a great listener. You first take notice of this once your favourite tea appears one day in her kitchen, remembering you had told her about it a few weeks ago. Soon after, desserts begin to appear in her fridge once she found out you had a sweet tooth. Eventually the woman would presence you with high quality brushes you always wished you could try out. Going forward you always tried to be mindful of discussing anything she could end up buying you, not wanting to take advantage of her generosity.

You remember the day you worked in silence as you processed the woman’s “gifts” as she never directly gave them to you but simply waited for you to notice their presence. Deep down you always wished they meant something more, but you quickly shook the thought away. You instead decided it must be because you’re working on her dolls. You’re just a worker to her and nothing more.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” She asks, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Hmm? Yes, I believe so. Why do you ask, Mistress? Are my strokes off?” You eye the small doll in your hand.

She lightly shakes her head, “no, your work is impeccable as always. It’s just..you’re normally more talkative.”

She almost sounds embarrassed when she answers, as if it was silly to point out the observation in the first place.

“Oh, right. I just thought I’d give you a break from my usual ramblings.”

You answer lightly while flashing her a smile, trying to hide the reason for your silence. A pregnant pause follows, and you wonder if you answered too casually, you quickly try to rectify your mistake by apologizing but her voice interrupts you.

“…..I like your voice.” She says quiet enough to be a whisper.

Your heart skips a beat at the confession and at first you feel you MUST have misheard her, that is until you notice her doing her usual self-soothing technique.

Your curiosity for what laid under Donna Beneviento’s veil would quickly disappear as you found yourself slowly falling for the soul of the woman beneath it all.

Months after that interaction, you find that very same woman slowly moving her shaky hand back to yours, gently covering it, making your heart stop.

[lisbonsteresa]

We Keep This Love (In a Photograph) (Nancy x Ace)

The first time he finds the photo is the day after the food festival. 

He arrives at the Claw late, rushing to shove his jacket into his locker and get to the kitchen before George notices his absence, when something crinkles unexpectedly in the pocket. Reaching in, he pulls out the polaroid - a bit wrinkled, the right corner completely folded over - but still in one piece even after the events of the day before. He stares at it for a moment, crouching in front of his open locker, trying to recall when he had acted on the impulse to grab it off the coffee table in their rush to leave, and before he can stop to realize what he’s doing he’s studying the picture’s subject instead. Hair falling into her eyes, dirt from the tunnels still smeared across her face, her features set in an expression of determined focus as she dug into the box of files Carson had procured for her, still looking so perfectly…Nancy. A small grin crosses his face as he remembers her amused reaction to the flash of the camera turning into a sincere smile as Carson told her how proud of her he was - Because of her testimony. The grin drops off his face as the memories of the rest of the day rush back into sharp focus. The sense of uselessness he’d felt as he’d dangled from that railing and watched his life be traded for the lives of countless others; the terrifying amount of finality he’d heard in her ‘I couldn’t lose you.’; the way there was no doubt in his mind about what “favor” Celia had asked for in return - a favor that for all he knows Nancy could be fulfilling right this moment. 

As if summoned by his own despondent thoughts, the door to the storeroom suddenly bursts open and Nancy rushes in, her coat hanging off of one arm as she fastens her hair into a hurried bun. Her mad dash stops short upon seeing him, and as their eyes meet he’s suddenly overwhelmed by all the things he wants to say to her; all the things he held back the day before while Grant was around. The questions of  ‘How could you -’ and ‘Why would you -’ and the arguments starting with ‘This will ruin your -’ and ‘I’m not worth -’ cycle around each other in his mind, and he can tell that something’s about to slip out his mouth but he can’t make the connection between them to know what it’ll be - And then suddenly he doesn’t have to. George’s annoyed voice rings out from the kitchen, and he’s never heard the phrase ‘saved by the boss’ before, but after this he might consider adopting it. He quickly crumples the photo into a ball and tosses it into his locker, following it with his jacket as if burying the image would help him bury the feelings it brought up. He gives Nancy a curt nod, avoiding whatever he might have seen in her eyes as he turns and heads towards the stairs, knowing there was a difference between delaying something and running away from it, but not quite sure which side this was falling on.

——————————————————————

It’s several months before he sees it again. Long enough for Everett Hudson’s first case to be declared a mistrial due to jury tampering, and for the time between it and his retrial to be just enough to allow Nick and Ryan to find a smoking gun hidden in Tiffany’s files that put the Hudson patriarch away for his full sentence (officially, at least). Long enough for Amanda to turn to him on her doorstep two weeks after the trial and tell him that she and Gil were leaving - finally following up on his lead in Santa Fe. There were kisses goodbye and offers to help in any way he could, but they both agreed it would be better for her to focus on finding her mother, and at this point it’s been long enough that he’s starting to feel like he’s doing okay after the breakup. He’s starting to feel like everything’s back to…whatever passes for normal in Horseshoe Bay. At least, he is until Nancy announces - midway through George’s mandated After Hours End-of-Summer-Cleaning Locker Inspection, no less - that she’s gotten into Columbia. 

His hand had just closed around a crumpled ball of paper in the back of his locker when the words leave her mouth, and the ball stays in his hand even as he joins in on the group hug an ecstatic Bess initiates; as he tells Nancy how happy he is for her; as he reassures George that he’ll close up so she can ride with Nick to the celebration he’s sure Carson has planned for Nancy back at their place. 

It isn’t until he’s left alone in the storeroom and he drops down onto the bench in front of his locker that he notices how tightly he’s been gripping the paper. Or the…not paper, he corrects himself as he notices the different texture of whatever he was holding. A sneaking suspicion comes from the back of his mind as he starts to smooth out the ball, and once the image is revealed in full - slightly faded with the right corner ripping off altogether after he pulls a bit too hard -  he has to fight the urge to crumple the photo again and toss it into the trash. 

Which is a weird impulse, isn’t it? Because he was happy for her, of course he was. This was Nancy’s dream school, after all, and after the year that she’s had, doesn’t she deserve to do what makes her happy? To move on with her - His thoughts stutter to a stop. He shakes his head and tries again. After all, hasn’t he - haven’t they all - known this was coming, sooner or later? Hasn’t he known from the start that Nancy was meant for bigger and better things? That she wasn’t going to hang around forever, not in this nowhere small town, with her ragtag group of friends and the dishwasher who’s been at a standstill since high school -

He’s being unfair, he knows. Because Nancy doesn’t see it, any of it, like that. He knows how much Nancy cares; about Horseshoe Bay, about her friends…about him. She’d told him as much during the countless knock-down-drag-out arguments they’d had after the incident at the paper mill, hadn’t she? But he can feel annoyance - or maybe even anger -  rising up inside him, and if he doesn’t deflect it towards her, then he’ll have to confront himself, and he’s been avoiding that confrontation for months now. He’d have to actually think about why he’s been keeping Nancy at arm’s length even after they’d both said their piece during those arguments. Why he’d been so insistent that they’d ‘gotten back to normal’ when he honestly wasn’t sure he had any idea of what ‘normal’ was for them. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d avoided his eyes when he’d congratulated her, but he wasn’t sure it was the way she had held onto his hand long after everyone else had left their hug either. He’d have to actually think about how he’d wasted so much time pretending there wasn’t still something to fix between them, and how he didn’t know what to feel now that he’s realized they’ve run out of time anyway.

When Amanda had left, it had felt like they were mutually closing a door - calm and maybe a little sad, but with both of them smiling and understanding on their respective sides. Knowing that Nancy was leaving felt like having to struggle with a door against hurricane-level winds, without a clue of what side he wanted to be on once he finally got it closed. But maybe that’s not a fair comparison to make, he rationalizes. After all, he and Amanda were together. He and Nancy have just been…  He looks back down at the polaroid, his thumb running along the torn edge as he considers just what exactly he and Nancy have been, before dragging a hand through his hair with a sigh. Too late to figure it out now, anyway.

He leans forward and slips the photo between the pages of a library book already overdue by a year at the bottom of his locker. So he’ll have something to remember her by, he tells himself, unsure if the unpleasant feeling that settles in his gut as he slams the locker shut is bitterness or just plain sadness.

——————————————————————

Life goes on in Horseshoe Bay, even without Nancy Drew. It’s not until late fall when he sees the photo again. He’s helping George and Nick with the Claw’s first official Allhallowtide event, spending his day helping kids decorate their lanterns whenever he’s not hyping Bess up over text for her ‘very preliminary, very probational, very terrifying!!!!!’ (her exclamation points, not his) first in-person meeting with Aunt Diana since she’d started slowly rebuilding their relationship. 

He’s sitting on the steps leading into the storeroom after one of their longer text exchanges, laughing when George calls out for him to make himself useful and find more markers, but he rises to follow her instructions anyway. It takes him all of 5 minutes to realize that they are completely marker-free, digging through every drawer and pencil holder in the room and coming up with nothing, before he remembers the pack of Crayolas he’s pretty sure survived his last locker clean-out. 

He unloads his jacket, a few books, and the jumbo pack of earplugs he’s been drawing from ever since that siren incident three weeks ago onto the bench to make it easier to find the markers, but the earplugs overbalance the books and everything comes toppling down before he can even look through what’s left in the locker. 

With a sigh, he leans over and picks up the old library book that fell face-down, watching curiously as a square of paper drops out from between the pages and back down onto the floor. A catalogue card, he wonders, or maybe a note someone stashed and forgot about? But as he picks it up and sees the torn right corner, he realizes that not only is it not regular paper, but that he knows exactly what he’s going to see before he flips the item over. 

A shock runs through him all the same once he does, seeing Nancy’s face for the first time in months. He doesn’t have more than a moment to think about that though, as his phone erupts with seven text tones in rapid succession at the same time George’s shouts for him to hurry up reach the storeroom. After a tiny moment of hesitation, he slides the polaroid into his back pocket and shoves everything else back into the locker before making his way back to the dining room, marker-less and contrite. 

That was a mistake. He spends the rest of the day hyperaware of what he’s holding onto, patting his pocket for reassurance it hasn’t slipped out so many times that one of Ted’s friends asks him - with all the seriousness a 9-year old can muster - if he is also suffering from the ‘wedgie-saurus’. 

It isn’t until that night, after he insists that he’ll close up the Claw so Nick and George can stay with her sisters at the lantern-lighting event, that he has a moment alone to actually look at the picture. He straddles the storeroom bench, placing it down in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees so he can lean in close as a sudden wave of guilt hits him. He remembers the way their text conversations had petered out after long stretches of one-word or emoji-only replies; the way her calls had slowly become less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. He still gets weird looks from the others when he makes excuses to avoid their video calls with her; can still hear Bess’s overly-sympathetic voice after she’d spent a long weekend in New York telling him that everything was fine, that Nancy just misses him.

He misses her too; of course he does. Some days he misses her so much the ache of it catches him by surprise. Like when he'd realized his habit of watching the door for the first ten minutes of every shift, still expecting her to rush through it with her name tag missing and an excuse at the ready. When he made a Big Lebowski reference at dinner one night and got nothing other than a confused smile from his mother in response. When he was researching something at the end of the bar and felt a phantom presence at his shoulder, like she was just outside his peripheral, leaning up against him and waiting impatiently for him to turn towards her and give her the answer she was looking for. 

It didn’t seem possible for someone he’d known for barely a year to have become such a big part of every aspect of his life, but everywhere he’s turned for months there seems to be another reminder of Nancy Drew.

And that just makes everything worse. Because he hadn’t been able to give her the answers she might have needed before she left. And now, now that he’s had the time to figure those answers out, now that they kept him up at night, running endlessly through his head while he stares dejectedly at the ceiling, he doesn’t know if they’re still the same answers she was looking for now. And he’s terrified by the thought that they might not be. He’s gotten himself caught in a mystery he doesn’t know how to solve on his own.

But maybe… His thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the clock hanging above the back door, and he starts when he realizes nearly an hour has passed since he first sat down. Glancing at the photo again, he waits for the urge to tuck it back between the pages of that book; to push his feelings down and avoid having to confront them, but it doesn’t come. 

Something else clicks into place with the last chime of the clock, and holding the polaroid in one hand, he unlocks his phone with the other, ignoring Bess’s 5 recap and 2 goodnight texts for the moment while he taps the contact info for the only other person he’s sure will be awake at midnight on a Tuesday. 

She picks up on the first ring. “Ace?” 

Her voice sounds tired, maybe even a little worried, but so deeply familiar his heart jumps into his throat just at the sound of her saying his name. “Hey, Nancy.” he begins, unable to hold back a small smile as he looks down at her picture. “Can we talk?”

Maybe he doesn’t have to solve this one alone.

Maybe neither of them do.

——————————————————————

Nancy’s bright hair makes her easy to spot, even from his position across the train platform. He watches as she peers through the crowd, noticing him with a grin and a tiny wave, before he pushes off from the wall and starts to make his way over to meet her. 

He’d practically had to fight Ryan to be the one picking her up, he imagines telling her as she laughs. The man had been ready to push him down in the driveway until Carson had stepped in to - heavily, mind you - imply that maybe Nancy and Ace could use a little ‘alone time’. 

That part he might keep to himself, actually. It was bad enough that Carson acted like he was in on some big secret every time he got off the phone with his daughter; he didn’t need her wondering why both her father figures were trading smug smiles every time the four of them were in a room together. 

He realizes too late that he’d gotten caught up in his thoughts and that Nancy was suddenly standing less than a foot away from him. “Hi.” he murmurs, the memory of their last - somewhat awkward - reunion tugging at the back of his mind. (He almost wished his arm was still in a sling. Then at least he’d only have to worry about what to do with one of his hands).

“Hi.” she replies in the same tone, her own hands twisting nervously in the strap of her bag, but a beaming smile on her face. It was the same smile he’d seen during their almost daily video calls for the past month and a half, but he hadn’t thought to prepare for the way it makes his heart flip to see it directed at him, live and in person.

“H-how’s Columbia?” he manages to only stumble over the first word, but it doesn’t really seem to matter because suddenly Nancy’s dropped her luggage and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him while his arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer still as he breathes in the fact that this is really happening, that it’s not a dream he’s going to wake up from to find the calendar mockingly reminding him there was another three days until her holiday break started.

He’s not sure how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other while the rest of the world moves around them, but when they finally pull away he knows his smile is as bright as hers. There’s a lot they still have to share - he hasn’t told her about his first day interning with John Sander yet, and she has a copy of the Daily Spectator with her first front page article stowed safely in her bag - and a lot - the distance, their schedules, missing each other - that they still have to figure out. But as he holds out his hand and Nancy takes it in hers, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ace can’t find it in himself to worry. 

Whatever happens, they’ll figure out a way to solve it. Together.

——————————————————————

(She finds the photo less than a week later; sees it hanging on the inside of his locker when she stops by the Claw to help them decorate for the holidays. Bess is beside herself at somehow being one of the last to know, but Ace can’t really focus on anything other than the look in Nancy’s eyes as she pulls him in for a kiss.)

[acetarisborn]

Happy (delayed) international asexuality day!!!

I haven't written (and posted) in a while and one of my most popular posts is the one about me simping for Asmo from Obey Me while being ace so... what better day to post this than yesterday!! But I fell asleep so now...

The brothers falling in love with an asexual MC

This is my first time writing one of these so it may end up feeling more like fanfiction than headcacons lol.

Asmo

The second you saw this gorgeous charming man it was love at first sight, and he felt the same way

Although you might have felt a little intimidated when you found out he's the avatar of lust. You might even think you have no chance!

But oh boy are you wrong

This man adores every aspect of you. From your gorgeous body to your breath-taking personality and he knows you love him as well.

The surprise in his eyes when he finds out you don't like him only for his looks is priceless

He can't help but blush brightly every time you give him the slightest of compliments, which sometimes turn into ankward laughs if he adds a sexual advance at the end

You try everything to let him know without telling him. Wear the ring, make several ace jokes and even wear the damn flag pattern on your clothes, to a point that the entirety of RAD but Asmo knows you're ace

But to be fair he might not even know what asexual means

He lets you know his feelings in a BIG way, something very intricate and romantic like a huge banner with help of the bros or plans a situation where you two end up dating

When you tell him you're asexual he's shocked to say the least

Not all humans enjoy sex?! Truly the newest concept he's ever heard

He does get sad at first, realizing he won't be able to experience that pleasure he's been fantazising about, but once he thinks about how out of all the beings in the Devildom you fell in love with the demon of Lust himself he bursts in laughter

He stops abruptly once he realizes why you look scared or sad because of his laugh and explains himself immediatley

If you tell him you understand if he doesn't want you he turns serious and grabs your hand

"Mc, you are the most gorgeous, kind-hearted and amazing person I've ever met, I didn't fell in love with how you are in bed or anything about sex! I fell in love with everything that makes you, you. I would never leave you over something so... so ridiculous! No matter how much I enjoy it!"

Once you guys start dating he showers you with gifts and fancy stuff (mostly skincare products)

He starts being super cautious about what he does or says, but eventually loosens up after the thounsand time you told him to do so

He also loves kissing you all over your face (if it's okay with you). On the lips, nose, cheeks or your forehead

All because he wants to remind you every day how precious you are in his eyes and that he loves you no matter what

Beel

You can't tell me you guys didn't fell in love that time you shared a room, you knew at the spot but this certified himbo is very oblivious

"Im hung-" He never gets to finish this sentence again because you always have a snack or food to offer him

Of course this is what starts his liking to you.

He doesn't realizes at first but it's the little things like what draws him in

He always wants to seat next to you at lunch and just talk for hours, he blushes at the sight of your smile or his eyes light up every time he sees you walk by

He begs you to cook for him no matter how many times you already do or say you're terrible. If you make him a bento this will make his whole week

Once he realizes his feelings he plans to tell you, not knowing you were planning on telling him you're ace and doing the same

"That's cool but um...whats an ace?"

Once you explain it to him he's a little surprised but nothing too extreme, he understands and didn't paid mind to sex anyway, he's happy he got to know beforehand.

"Oh, that sounds like you, good to know, specially now, because..."

He stops hiding a big box of chocolates and opens it, the chocolates spelling "Will you be my partner?"

If you ask him if he's okay he nods almost agressively, which ends up in you tackling him in a hug

Once you start dating he's ready to provide bear hugs and cuddles, he's the cuddliest demon in the Devildom

"Hey, I found this food/thing with the ace flag colors, thought you might like it"

He asks you to help him cook whenever he's hungry. Doesn't matter if it's the greatest culinary piece ever or an absolute disaster, he's happy he gets to spend time with you.

Levi

Okay but that overflowing PASSION when he rambles on about TSL, that fire in his eyes, *chef kiss* you can't help but stare dreamily at him

"watcha looking at normie?" He asks while blushing madly at the way you kept looking at him

The first time he finally accepted he's in love is when you dragged him to your room to watch a new anime, he realized you were a total weeb just like him (And I know you are because why else would you be here?)

Since then you have anime nights at least once a month with all the snacks you can get in your bed or couch

He obviously loves playing any kind of videogame with you, he doesn't like some of the ones you do but plays them anyways just to see you celebrate once you've won

Dragging you to conventions is a given, he spends weeks making you the perfect couples cosplay, staying all night muttering about how yours needs to be perfect

Since most of his brothers don't care/like or are too busy for his ramblings about a new game or anime he goes to your room very often. He's happy you're always there for him.

But IS HE JEALOUS

If he sees anyone flirting with you in the slightest of ways he'll go into overprotective mode. In a bad day this means as much as asking you for a pencil in class

We all know he puts you in a bit too high of a pedestal compared to him, but it's because he loves you and tries his best to gain confidence once you tell him how wonderful he is.

"They're so cool Henry! They are so nice to me and so pretty. I don't deserve them but do I want to try!!"

Since he's too shy and introverted none of you have asked the other out yet, but you decide to trust him and come out to him first.

"Oh yeah, I know plenty of asexual characters, I know what it is. That's great! You have my whole support!" This one takes you off guard

He talks about how he kinda suspected it but never said a word in fear that it could offend you.

This was enough for you to jump in and tell him your feelings.

To say he's blushing is an understatement. His whole body is red

"I like you to...But a-are you sure? You're just so pretty an- and amazing and I-I'm just a yucky otaku... Not that all otakus are yucky! You're not! Oh crap, I'm so sorry."

You snap him out of his rambling with a hug or a kiss, telling him how much you love him no matter how he belittles himself, because he's already perfect.

He tackles you in a hug out of excitement and says he loves you too

He has no problem with sex at all once your relationship starts, he wasn't having any to begin with and never thought of the idea of you guys doing it, so it's pretty much the same.

He tries his best to make bentos for you or use any romantic tecnique he has ever seen in romance animes

Instead of overprotective mode he now brags about his amazing partner to everyone he can.

"Mc, we should cosplay these characters! This one's ace!"

He'll do anything for you to feel safe and welcome in his arms no matter your sexuality.

Satan

This lovable bookworm fell in love later than anyone (except Belphegor) did, in the train murder mystery.

At first he thought it was mere admiration, but then why was his heart beating so fast?

Don't get me wrong, he's outraged. He hates that he's not paying attention to class to write poems, being distracted from his books because his mind wonders off thinking of you, and he despises that every time you bring him a cup of tea or flash a smile his face turns bright red in front of his brothers.

Eventually he has no choice but to ask Asmo and he is overjoyed. He offers himself as a wingman many times and Satan declines every single one

He doesn't tell you about this willingly, Asmo creates some devious situation where he ends up needing to confess his feelings.

He has never felt so relieved that the time you said you liked him too

He finally shows you some of his poetry (at least the less cringey ones) all of them talking about your outer and inner beauty in a way that almost moves you to tears

Everyone is surprised by how frequently one of the scariest demons out there lets himself get hugged by you at any given time, even if he's busy he always has time for you.

Also cats. Plushies, bags, clothes, anything with a cat on it you gift it to eachother

You eventually gather courage, enter his room and talk to him, thinking that maybe him being so distracted reading would soften the news

But he just nods mindlessly

"Satan? Did you hear me? I'm asexual" You take his book annoyed but the answer leaves you in shock

"Yeah, I know! can I go back to my book now?"

Turns out you were being painfully obvious and Satan is too smart not to notice.

"So... you're okay with it?"

"What in the world made you think I wasn't?"

He closes his book and you two have a long talk about how he accepts you and loves you for who you are over some tea

Mammon

He has always been in love with you as you have with him, what else is there to say?

Mammon melts at the slightest of touches and compassion you show him

He's so happy every time he's with you because you actually treat him like his brothers should

He loves them but they aren't the kindest towards him, so there's nothing better than hearing from you how much he's worth

He repeatedly asks you for money or pulls out some pranks but suddenly stops. How weird? Could it be that he feels bad for making you feel any kind of sad?

You have to stop him from saying he's your first several times, thankfully it eventually works

He tells you how great you are in a way he isn't directly telling you? But you can just know

"Hey, hu-I mean Mc! You're...the less annoying person in this place...Thanks for that" Yes, that was him trying to compliment you

As your bond becomes stronger he starts to loosen up to you. Leaving you gifts or flowers at your door with a smile on his face.

"Lucifer took my dear goldie for a week because of this but ya know... it's worth it."

When you actually accepted to go to the biggest casino in the Devildom he considered it as your first date.

You spend the hole night seeing him win and loose money, even pulling you in to have fun as well

You two take a break exhausted at a fountain. Mammon sees his chance and goes in slowly for a kiss

"Wait, Mammon. If we're actually going to...date, there's something you have to know."

"You're the most outstanding human, what the hell, the most outstanding being in the three worlds I've ever met in my eternity, Mc! What makes you think I'd leave someone as breathtaking as you over wether or not you wanna have sex?!"

"For some people it's a big dealbreaker..."

"Well, not for the Great Mammon! Only an idiot would let you go because of your sexuality. And no matter what they all say, I'm no idiot"

You end the night holding hands and going back to the House of Lamentation, ready to start this beautiful romance.

Lucifer

Ok. First things first. Everyone can agree Lucifer is (or seems) even hornier than Asmo, so this is gonna get...complicated. But we'll get into that

He sure seems the least likely to actually show the vulnerability of being in love, but gosh did you made your way into his heart

It was a long and diffecult journey to get him to like you, but he eventually got a liking to you the more you guys spent time together

You were able to make him loosen up as well.

Dragging him to anywhere you loved instead of being sat down with mountains of paperwork

Always waking him up after he fell asleep in his desk with a blanket, a hot cocoa (Coffee if the work needs to be done by the next day) and even a kiss on the cheek if he's lucky

By the time the whole Belphie situation was defused he was finally able to show his true intentions

He's a fairly elegant person, so when he tries to make an advance, he does it with style

This means all kinds of fancy places once he's off from work with the most romantic of views. Every day you feel like being swept over by a true gentleman

I'm pretty sure he'd have you as his partner by now, maybe he never officially asked but you both imply you're a couple at this point.

But as I said it, he has his whole...punishing thing......

It's exactly because he starts crossing the line with one if these why you just had to stop him and tell the truth

He gets shocked and slowly start fitting the puzzle pieces in place

"Well, this is unexpected. Wait. Have I... made you feel uncomfortable around me all this time?"

Once you nod he falls in his bed ashamed

"My deepest apologies, my love. I truly hope you forgive my reckless words. I must know, are you not feeling safe in this relationship?"

You explain how wrong that asumption is, telling him how every day with him is incredible, but showed your discomfort at some of the things he says

He was relieved he hadn't crossed the line yet and was never going to let himself cross it.

"I am so glad you shared this information with me, I promise to make this relationship the most romantic experience of your life"

He stays up all night researching everything ablout being ace, he gives you gifts related to this, finds out your love language and does what it is every day, he does every romantic thing you can think of and he even asks you to go to a pride in the human world!

He's willing to do all he can in order for you to feel loved in any way you want

Belphegor

Well, he did tried to kill you, so I'm pretty sure his betrayal hurt if you helped him for love

He knows you're at least a little scared of him and he knows he needs to apologize, but never finds the time because you always seem wary of him

He tries by leaving a note in your desk that says "I'm so sorry for what I did. Thank you for bringing our family back together"

This is the first smile he gets out of you as you look at him

This escalates to him passing notes whenever he's not asleep. In class, the table at dinner, outside while hanging out with you and Beel, anywhere. This happens so often you end up always having a pen in hand to answer.

It goes until one of you decides to speak, you start talking and become best friends in no time

Although Belphie seems too possesive for his feelings to be just friendship

Honey, if you thought Levi was bad he's nothing compared to Belphie

He uses every excuse to get you away from anyone that possibly flirts with you. It's either that or his death glare burning them for several minutes until they run or apologize

He always wants to be with you, even if he's sleeping he feels the lack of your prescence

This is why he always tries to convince you to take naps with him, snuggling with you is the best part of his day

If you're more of a night owl he'll do his best to stay awake and look at the stars with you in the planetarium. Sometimes falling asleep in your shoulders "on accident" wink wink

He mumbled about you in his sleep and that's how you found out and ended up dating

The relationship is pretty much the same with more kisses and hand holding, along with him convincing you to skip class sometimes just to sleep

Also plushies, a lot of them, all of them

You decide to tell him one day while snuggling beneath the stars. Being sure enough that he'll understand, although the nerves are still there

"Okay... so?"

You express your worries and he stands up looking almost menacingly but his words killed the scary mood

"Are you dumb? How did you think someone like me would even worry about that?"

"I'm not Asmo, beds are for sleeping. Come on, lets steal that cake Lucifer saved in the fridge, I heard it's sort of an inside joke between us."

After this he keeps asking you about the whole asexual spectrum, thinking he might be part of it. He's shows true interest at every question you answer and tries to use this new information for future dates.

All and all it's very relaxing to date someone like him, who surprisingly has a very loving and understanding heart behind what people are used to see.

[scandeniall]

story of us

pairing: suna x reader

the story of ur relationship <3; alternatively (more) dating sunarin headcanons but this time is somewhat of an order and talks good and bad 2K+ worth lol

a/n: i had more planned but half of these have been sitting in my notes for months and its kinda fucking long already bc he lives rent free!!!

warnings: uh the usual aged up (in ur 20s time skip type beat), language, yeah

Meeting

Now when y’all met suna was not looking to love at all. That man was just living his life and so where you. The two of you pretty much meet through komori. You’re a friend and it’s his birthday so him and a few of his friends go out for drinks bc why not. Young hot pretty financially stable v-ball players. Nah no ones there for any type of hookups literally just there celebrating a great guy.

They rent out a section at a relatively nice bar tbh. Not the cheapest and you can actually hear conversation. But also not a super expensive one where the patrons are middle aged with jazz music and the occasional track to relive “youth.” Komori’s a sweetie and will come outside to get you when you text that you’re there. You’ve met washio and ofc sakusa Before so you greet them casually then you turn and there’s Suna and a few others you haven’t met.

That greeting isn’t anything special I promise. Just “hey I’m so and so” and vice versa. It’s one of those meetings where you just think “he’s cute” but it’s such a fleeting thought. Y’all don’t even really talk that first night tbh. At the next practice Suna mentions offhandedly that he didn’t know komori was dating someone and komori is like: huh? Yeah sorry. I love (Y/N) and all but were just friends. Suna just shrugs not really caring to be honest until Komori just asks what did he think of you.

“Don’t really remember much man. Seemed cool though” he didn’t think he’d really see you again. Yeah you were close enough to have been at Komori’s birthday but if that was his first time ever meeting you, he figured you weren’t from around there are present very much. Yeah he was wrong.

Suddenly you were on Komori’s snap story more often, or maybe he’d just been noticing more. Too bad he couldn’t even remember your name 💀. Then it turned into you occasionally popping up where he was. He’d been told your name at least 5 times already but wouldn’t remember it the next day. Whenever he’d see you again he’d get a strained look like: “what is this mf name again” just laugh and tell him again bby.

That changed at some random house party by another mutual friend you two apparently had? You two were the only people just around the fire pit trying to catch some warmth in the chilly night. He’s probably just on his phone head bobbing his head to the muffled music from inside. And you’re just like “remember my name yet?” All jokingly. This sparks the tiniest bit of interest in him and he lets out a low chuckle and just admits “not at all.” I also feel like this is the first time he really looks at you and he’s like 🤨, wait you’re actually kinda cute.

That night y’all just kinda talk and vibe. The conversation comes easy as you two jump back and forth from talking about the music playing to sneakers which he brings up to stuff that you like. He’s actually really easy to talk to. So easy that u can forget about him not remembering your name despite meeting several times. You mention that you’d hung around komori before while they were gaming and that he seemed pretty cool. That leads him to asking “how do you know him anyways?”

“I used to date Sakusa”

Mentally he’s just like— ‘yeah I’m not getting involved in this. Time to go.’ Until you just start laughing.

“I’m kidding. He’s not really my type. We met after being paired together for a project in school.”

The two of you spend quite a bit of time just talking that night until you are joined again by some friends and it’s deadass like y’all weren’t just talking for almost an hour straight.

Getting Together

The process of getting together is like a cat and mouse game. You two start getting closer than friends and then something happens and you’re not talking for weeks. Whether it be life just getting busy, and then someone ending up on some random tinder date or so be it. Definitely one of those things were somehow someway y’all end up just hanging on one of your couches watching a movie. At some point there’s definitely a hint of sexual tension but neither of y’all act on it (later on you find on his finsta that he used to post several “i wont you 😔” memes  Folks can’t tell if hes joking or not (hes not))

You probably gotta tell that man you like him so if that ain’t you I’m sorry. Y’all not dating 😹. It’s something casual, y’all going to pick up some snacks for a movie night and why this mf keep looking at you out the side of his eyes instead of the road. You def texting the groupchat asking if you should confess. They tell you to boss up and just do it baby.

You literally end up confessing in that parking lot. Like right when he shuts the car off and starts swinging his keys on his finger and you kinda just blurt “I like you. Like like you.” He just kinda nods before his eyes widen. “Wait are you fr?” Like no you’re joking tf. It gets a lil awkward so you just go to get out the car and he’s like “I like like you too.”

I definitely don’t think either of you ever officially asked the other out it’s just at some point the understanding that you two are a couple. Like when you’re hanging out just you two hes more touchy, and then y’all start kissing and holding hands at some point. Then when you’re with friends he almost exclusively sits next to you and your friends notice the whispers in one another’s ears at the loud bar that seem just a hint too intimate for ppl who are just friends. Then y’all start arriving and leaving places together and people just at some point get the message (it’s later confirmed by you tweeting some shit like: I hate Rin why is that mf my boyfriend)

As far as anniversaries y’all draw straws to pick a day in the ballpark of the time y’all both think you became official. That’s the day you stick with even if it’s not true.

Relationship Flaws

A fault in the relationship is sunas kinda poor communication when it comes to things that matter. How he feels. Arguments. Love sure as hell don’t come east with anyone but when your partner won’t let you in? Yeah that’s like hell. That’s something you struggle with. And then on your end, it’s the impatience with him not letting you in. You try to wrongfully rush it.

 There’s definitely been arguments that stem from him just being upset about something unrelated to the relationship then coming to you for comfort without actually telling you what’s wrong. He kinda just wants to lay with his head on his chest but at some point that’s not enough. Y’all are in a relationship and should be able to talk about your bad days too.

You’re not innocent in this issue either because sometimes it comes off too pushy. Yes it’s from a place of care but sometimes that silent comfort is necessary. The walls will break in due time and y’all both know that deep in the back of your minds But then there’s a part that’s like— yeah we can’t let this become the norm

“Rin, can you please talk to me”

He will have literally told you “whatever” and that he “can’t deal with this rn” several times as he just shrugs and is like yeah “I’m gonna just go home. I’ll text you later” with an awkward ass pat on your shoulder if it really ruined his mood. If he’s leaving before he gets super upset and uncomfortable just some half assed kiss in your cheek

Another thing is I feel like he could be passive aggressive and let’s be real other folks doing it causes you to do it to. Y’all probably drag eachother on your finstas where you can both see it lol

But when it comes to making up he cracks first and apologizes when he started it. Or as y’all get more comfy with communication. If it’s not anything major he’ll just hit you with a text like “I’m bored come hang”

More Relationship Things

I feel like he love/hates driving. Likes the ride not always driving though. So if you ever proposed a late night drive he’d be down (if you offer to drive). He does let y’all take his car though. He reclines the seat pretty far back. Alternates between just closing his eyes vibing w/ the music or kinda just looking at you (he the type of bf that makes u nervous no matter how long y’all been together)The way he looks at you makes you nervous cause that man is fine as hell and you can just feel his eyes on you.

He films you on Snapchat and sends the video to you like “you look hot”

If he’s not ‘resting his eyes’ he’s mumbling along to the music because he has the aux. if y’all music tastes are different he occasionally throws in something you really like bc he likes how you perk up at one of your fav songs

Moving on. Y’all dap eachother up after s3x because it’s “modern romance” (boy stfu). You two came up with a sex playlist together and it’s on both of your phones. Sometimes one of you will add a troll song that the other doesn’t know and put it in the lineup. (Stole my heart by 1D has definitely played before and you were practically in tears laughing at his reaction. That was one of those songs he was like ‘yeah alright i think we’re done).

At some point you two develop your own handshake and it’s cute. Whenever either of you have to travel without the other that’s always the last thing you do before you leave eachother. There’s vids of your friends daring y’all to do your elaborate ass handshake drunk and doesn’t matter what’s in your system, you both know it like the back of your hand.

I think he values quality time a lot so there’s so many nights where you’re both just chilling in his room just doing your own things. He could just be at his desk watching some game highlights and you’re just doing hw on his bed with your own earbuds in work all spread out and he’s content. He’s also attentive so if he calculates that you’ve been working too long he’ll just take ur earbud like “hey let’s go get something to eat.”

People definitely think he’s the lazy one in the relationship but it’s 100% not true. Like stated above, he’s very attentive and can pretty much gauge how you’re feeling in the blink of an eye. He knows when you need alone time but won’t go without reassuring you that he’s here whenever you’re ready. When you do just need him he’s there without a second thought. If you’re more touchy he’ll have your head in his lap his arm running up and down your as you tell him what’s wrong. He knows when to joke about a minor inconvenience and over the course of your relationship knows when to cut the jokes and be serious with you.

He’d never admit it but he knows your coffee order by heart (he keeps up his image my asking wtf do you get everytime. Just let him LOL). He the type to peek at what you plan on wearing and ‘accidentally’ color coordinate then pull some shit like “why are you copying me”

Y’all def shit talk together. See someone doing something completely out of pocket in public— straight to ur phones you go (pack it up shade room). To the public it just looks like you aren’t paying any attention to one another on your dates but y’all are. Just over the phone so u don’t piss off ur target 😌

Y’all are very comfy in your relationship that you just say stuff. Y’all don’t even think.

“Rin, what if i crashed us in this car rn 😹”

“Do it. Might be fun”

When you two finally move in together it’s almost like how your relationship starts. Slowly more and more spares of stuff for you end up at his. He does sorta make the move near the end of your lease and is just like “you’re here more than me anyways.” (hes nervous but swears he’s not. Bby you’re literally shaking). Him moving you in is like hell. This mf takes sooooo long to help with boxes. Picks up 1 then sits for like 15 minutes. You ask for help the first few times and he’s just like “I got you” while continuing to scroll his phone.

Sleepy Shoulder kisses in the mornings. Only form a greeting you get but it’s ok

this is like my 100th dating suna hc and im still going this is SICK. it was so hard to not drop old refs bc i still believe in them 100% yes i do!!!!

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Nightmares ⊰

Pairing: John Wick x Reader

Summary: John comforts his daughter after she wakes up from a nightmare.

Warnings: a smidge of angst, but major fluff

Words: 2.3k

A/N:  I was in a dad!john mood these last couple of days and ended up writing this fic. This is set a few years after Perfect to Me, which takes place in a universe that I'll be expanding with more of these family blurbs. Hope you enjoy!

Daylight has come and gone; an inky blackness speckled with countless shimmering, twinkling lights now fills the late midnight skies above. The air is calm, so serene—it’s tranquil silence lulling John to a deep, deep slumber, one that was very much needed after a tiresome day. Beneath the thick duvet, sleep is just a touch away following a brief bout of tossing and turning in bed. It always takes a little more time for him to retire when your body isn’t next to his during the night.

Eyelids heavy with fatigue, John was teetering on the edge of consciousness when a distant scream from down the hall pierces the quietude, causing him to jolt awake. In an instant, he pushes himself up and out of the mattress, his bare feet swiftly dashing across the hardwood as he heads to the source of the worrying sound. 

A familiar adrenaline fuels John’s hasty sprint, his mind already assuming that something terrible has happened. Sadly, it was a burden he still carries as a result of his past. He knows of the horrors in reality; he had been one of them at one point. Though time has passed since he walked away from that horrid life, John remains wary, afraid that there will come a day when this beautiful paradise he has found would be taken away.

John pushes the door open with enough force that it slams harshly against the wall, his heart hammering against his chest at the sight of the empty, disheveled bed in the middle of the room. “Ellie?!” He yells her name out loud, his voice frantic, trembling as panic starts to creep in. Before he could run to check the rest of the house, John hears faint shuffling coming from behind.

“Daddy?”

A sigh of relief falls from John’s lips once he sees his five-year-old curled up in the closet, seemingly distraught as he is. She was shaking, her lashes wet with fresh tears as she glances up at her father. Kneeling down, John joins her on the floor, his rapid breathing steadied following the recent fright. Ellie immediately crawls closer to him, her short arms wrapping around his mid as she buries her face into his shirt, finding comfort in his presence.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” John murmurs low as he tenderly strokes Ellie’s hair. Her tiny frame quivers while she stifles her sobs, the mere sound of her cries shattering his heart. 

“I had a bad dream,” she responds, tone soft and weary. John’s shirt is stained with her tears, but he pays it no mind. Instead, he holds her closer, tilting his lips down to place a kiss on her forehead, which aided in relaxing his darling daughter. With his warm embrace growing tight, he assures her that she is safe from harm. 

Yet, as they sit there on the carpeted floor, John feels a crushing pain from seeing her so scared. Since becoming a father, he often frets about Ellie. There would be nights when John would wake late in the evening to check on his baby, only to find her sleeping peacefully. He has this constant unsettling anxiety that looms over his head, a rooted fear that he could not shake off easily. 

“Come,” he eventually whispers, his utterance as delicate as the way he lifts her up from the ground, carrying her back to bed. 

Gently, John lays Ellie down on the mattress, drawing the pink blanket up to her body. He then switches on the lamp on the nightstand, its soft glow illuminating what should be a haven for her. John doesn’t even wait for her to ask him to stay; he could not leave her so soon. Sighing, he sits on the edge of the bed, the palm of his hand coming to rest on the side of her angelic face with features still tainted with terror.

“What was your nightmare about?” John probes, hoping that she would answer. 

Whenever he experiences nightmares of his own, you would pose to him the same question. At first, he was reluctant to share, not wanting to have you be a part of the torment his mind poisons him with. You, however, wouldn’t sleep until John opened up, and when he finally did, you always knew exactly what to say to bring him peace, never without fail.

“I-I was outside in the dark,” Ellie recounts with a whimper, her little fingers curling around the edge of the sheet. “A big monster was chasing me, and I screamed for help, but nobody came. I couldn’t find you or mommy anywhere.”

John’s heart is heavy as he pictures her completely helpless. Ellie is so young, innocent and vulnerable. She was too pure to witness or even dream about evil, but that he has no control over. John would do anything and everything if it means keeping her safe, but what could he do in a situation like this?

“Honey, I’m sorry to hear that,” he soothes, lightly running the pad of his thumb under her eye to wipe the remaining tears away. She resembles you more, he thinks, both reminders of all the good there is in this world. “But you’re alright now. It was just a bad dream, Ellie-bear. None of it was real.”

“Are you sure?” She wearily asks. “The monster looked real, daddy. What if it shows up again when I go to sleep?”

“I’m sure, baby. If you see the monster again, I promise I will be here to protect you. Your mother and I love you so much; we will never, ever let anything bad happen to you, El. Okay?”

Ellie wordlessly responds with a nod, reaching for John’s calloused hand then clutching it tightly with her softer one. “Daddy, do you get nightmares, too?”

“Sometimes,” he reveals, rubbing circles on the back of her hand. It still amazes John how much she’s grown over the last several years. He recalls how small her hands were when she was a mere few days old and how much love he had at the time for such a tiny precious thing.

A profound love that has since multiplied immensely even to this day.

“What happens when you wake up?” 

John pauses to ponder as Ellie’s curious chocolate eyes stare at him. They mirror his own in a way, and he smiles the slightest bit, his free hand moving to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, mommy usually talks to me for a bit, just like what we’re doing right now. She reminds me each time that nightmares aren’t real and we shouldn’t be scared of them.”

“You get scared of nightmares?” 

“I do,” he truthfully states. “But you don’t have to worry. All that matters is that you’re safe now.”

Gaze faltering, John could tell that she’s not wholly convinced by the pout on her lips as she fiddles with the shiny silver band on his ring finger. His eyes briefly dart to the stuffed animal that must have fallen when Ellie jumped out of bed and scampered to the closet. Leaning down, John retrieves the toy bear, softly smiling to himself at a passing memory.

“You know, I got Mr. Teddy right after mommy told me she was pregnant with you.” 

He remembers that moment as clear as day. The two of you have long desired for a family, and following a hard year of trying, you had surprised John on his birthday. He would never forget the indescribable feeling he had when you told him he was going to be a father. 

That night, you and John had gone on a lovely walk under the stars, imagining what the near future would look like. The bear caught his attention as you passed by a children’s store, and unable to contain his utter excitement, he had purchased it for the baby to play with one day.

“I always sleep with Mr. Teddy by my side,” Ellie notes as John places the bear in her arms. It was beginning to wear out after all these years, the brown faux fur fading into a dullish color. She could have any toy she wants, but her teddy bear would forever remain. Ellie could never part with it, and it means greatly to her as much as it does to John.

“You love Mr. Teddy, don’t you?” She nods, yes. “Well, from now on, Mr. Teddy will make sure that the monster never comes back. At night, when your mother and I are sleeping in the other room, Mr. Teddy will be our eyes and ears. Even if you don’t see us, he’ll be here to keep you safe.”

The corner of Ellie’s mouth turned up in a small smile, yet it was sweet enough to reassure John. He watches his little girl bring the bear up to her lips, giving the top of its head a brief kiss before holding it out towards him. John furrows his brow in confusion as she pushes Mr. Teddy into his hand. “What’s this?”

“You said you have nightmares,” Ellie replies, her voice soft like the plush in his grasp. “Since mommy’s at work, you can bring Mr. Teddy to your room. I know you’ll always protect me, but who’s going to protect you?”

John is caught off-guard by her simple query. Ellie was incredibly bright for her age, ever so inquisitive at most times. He spends four to five seconds contemplating, but in the end, he’s unsure of what to say. It truly warms his heart knowing that she was concerned about him and was willing to give up her favorite toy that she sleeps with every night. “It’s alright, honey. You need Mr. Teddy more than I do. I’ll be fine.”

“But what if you get a bad dream later?”

“I’ll be okay,” he affirms with a tender smile. “Nightmares aren’t real, but you are. Knowing that you’re here safe and sound is all I need to remind myself not to be afraid.”

For a while, John mulls over his words, absorbing the same truth he had tried to persuade Ellie to believe in. Days, weeks, months, and years have gone by since he quit doing business in the underground world, and so far, no threat has ever come to his family. His worried mind drove this trepidation he had, and to overcome it, he needed to listen to his own advice.

Nightmares aren’t real.

But you and Ellie are.

“Daddy, can you sleep here tonight?” 

Ellie looks up at him with her adorable pair of doe eyes, and John was powerless to them. He couldn’t turn down her request; he could never say “no” to his one and only princess. “Of course. Can you scoot over for me?”

Doing so, she gives him just enough room to lay down beside her. Though the bed was too small and cramped for John’s larger self, he couldn’t care less. Once he’s settled, Ellie snuggles up against him while she holds Mr. Teddy close to her heart, letting out a yawn as exhaustion sets in.

“I love you, daddy,” she mumbles sleepily, ready for blissful dreams to follow.

“I love you too, Ellie,” John returns, exhaling a content sigh. 

Soon after, Ellie’s fast asleep, her small body relaxed, and her rhythmic breathing slowing John’s. His arms cuddle her in, cocooning her as if he’s shielding her away from any and all danger. Within moments, his consciousness begins to ebb, this time unafraid of what was to come.

---

Dawn breaks.

The skies are bright and blue.

In glorious light, John’s eyes slowly flutter open, and he is greeted by the morning sunrise. It’s still quite early, he concludes, and he decides to stay in bed for now so that he doesn’t disturb Ellie. But before he could doze off again, he hears the squeaky creak of the floorboard coming from outside. 

“Hey,” you say quietly once John notices you standing in the doorway. “I was wondering where you were.”

John beams as you tiptoe inside the room, careful not to wake your daughter. Smiling, you bend down to kiss him on the lips. “How did your shift go?”

“It was a slow night in the ER, but I’m glad to be home,” you answer, brushing John’s lengthy locks away from his face. “What happened last night?”

“Ellie had a nightmare,” he states, keeping his volume very low. “I couldn’t let her sleep alone afterwards.”

At the mention of her name, Ellie stirs awake, nose crinkling as her fists rise to rub at her tired eyes. Once adjusted to the brightness of the room, her attention falls on you, and her rosy lips promptly quirked into a gentle smile. “Mommy, you’re home!”

“I am, baby,” you cooed as you shifted to kiss her forehead. “You can go back to bed, Ellie. I just wanted to check up on you two before I sleep for a bit.”

“Mommy, can you sleep here, too?”

You glance at your husband, who only gives you a pleading look similar to Ellie’s, and quickly, you concede defeat. 

Just like John, it was impossible for you to deny her of such. 

With a nod, your feet pads to the other side, peeling back the covers as he and Ellie move to allow you enough space to join. Crawling into bed, you rest on your side while John reaches for your hand, the three of you now laying in comfortable silence.

John waits until you and Ellie drift off to sleep, his heart soaring when he realizes he’s surrounded by the loves of his life. 

And as the sun continues to rise above the horizon once again, vibrant hues of yellow and gold shining down on the earth below, John falls back to a deep, deep slumber; memories of his nightmares now long forgotten, replaced by treasured moments like this. 

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight​ @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

[erin-bo-berin]

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered  beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be. 

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own. 

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway. 

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

-

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck. 

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games. 

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough. 

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby 

Just let me in

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance. 

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied. 

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

��Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan. 

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide 

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside 

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in 

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him. 

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably. 

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough 

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust 

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure. 

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus. 

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home. 

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside. 

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in 

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason. 

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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[mydogisveryadorbs]

blue ain't your color | jj maybank

masterlist

summary: song fic based on blue ain’t your color by keith urban.

warnings: mentions of mentally and physically abusive relationships, underage drinking, mentions of drugs, angst, fluff, v soft jj

PSA: this is not in any way meant to idealize or romanticize abusive relationships. if you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship please get help. below are some resources and learning tools. 

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1 (800) 799 – 7233

Love is Respect – National Teen Dating Abuse Hotline: 1 (866) 331 – 9474

more hot lines and info: https://victimconnect.org/resources/national-hotlines/

learn more: https://www.thehotline.org/psa/

lyrics in bold

3.8k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

I can see you over there

Starring at your drink

Watchin' that ice sink

All alone tonight

You look down at your drink, moving the straw in a circular motion causing the ice to swirl around creating a small tornado.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you realize you've been waiting here for almost two hours. 

Your boyfriend was supposed to meet you at Topper’s party at 9. In the first thirty minutes, you weren't surprised. Liam, your kook boyfriend of 10 months, was late for almost everything, so this didn't come as a shock to you. 

When the one hour mark hit you were honestly quite worried. What if he was in an accident? What if he got jumped? Maybe your thoughts were most likely irrational, but you couldn't help but worry about your boyfriend.

One hour later, you had gotten past the worrying stage. Now you were simply angry, no, furious at him. Had he stood you up? Did he forget about you? These thoughts were definitely more rational. It wouldn't be the first time Liam stood you up, but you would make sure it was the last. 

At the beginning of your relationship, everything had been sunshine and butterflies. About two months in, however, he asked you to stop seeing your friends.

You see you were a born and raised pogue. Your dad was a close friend of Big John so you had practically grown up with John B, JJ, and Pope, in more recent years becoming close friends with Kiara.

At first, it was little things. Liam would get upset if you left to hang out with the pogues instead of him. Then one day, he asked you to stop seeing them all together. You, of course, retaliated, telling him that you would never leave your friends. But Liam had a way with words, and not a good way. He told you for months that your friends would never love you and that you were lucky that he had even taken pity on you. Slowly, you started to believe him. You stopped seeing the pogues, pushing everyone who truly loved you out of your life.

Liam became more and more distant as the months went on. He would leave you almost every night to drink and party, not even bothering to let you know where he was headed. The two of you had been fighting nonstop for several weeks. It had gotten physical only a few times and the next morning he would apologize profusely, so you stayed.

Seeing him walk in with two girls wrapped around his waist, nearly two and a half hours late, was the last straw for you.

Grabbing your purse, you walked up to Liam, who's eyes widened with the realization the moment he saw you.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he says, slightly slurring his words as his arms still holding the two skinny blondes at his sides, “It's not what it looks like.” You can see his red-rimmed eyes and dilated pupils, telling you that he was coked out. 

You roll your eyes, knowing that this was it for you. “Really, Liam,” you snap back, “‘Cause it looks like we are done here.”

Liam’s eyes widen in shock, never having seen you lash out like this before. He shakes it off and his expression quickly contorts into one of disgust. “Okay,” he says with a shrug, “Good luck finding someone else to take pity on a whore like you, dirty pogue.” He walks away with the two girls, leaving you in shock.

It takes a moment for you to realize that you had just ended this almost one-year relationship. 

The first emotion you feel is one of freedom and relief. No more would you have to be held down by this weight of not being able to do and say what you want.

That feeling slowly dissipates as the feeling of dread starts to overcome it. You had pushed away all of your friends for this boy who had let you go like you were nothing to him. Maybe you were nothing.

You walk back to the bar area, grabbing another drink, feeling the need to drown away your sorrows.

And chances are

You're sittin' here in this bar

'Cause he ain't gonna treat you right

JJ Maybank hated kook parties with a passion.

Thankfully he hadn't had the opportunity to attend too many of them in his lifetime. But now that John B was macking on Sarah Cameron, it wasn't uncommon for the blonde boy to get dragged along to one of these events.

John B had left JJ to fend for himself as soon as they had arrived at the party, slipping off somewhere to find Sarah. JJ looked around the extravagant home that belonged to one of his enemies, Topper Thornton. His ring clad fingers fiddled with an expensive-looking vase, trying to find the perfect moment to snag it and slip away.

JJ’s eyes filtered through the crowd when they landed on something, or rather someone, that he had least expected to see.

His hand slipped from the vase, letting his gaze drink you in. You definitely looked different. Your once long hair was now cut just below your shoulders and your typical style of denim shorts and a cropped shirt was exchanged for a lavish-looking dress and sparkly stilettos.

JJ admits that he probably wouldn't have recognized you if he hadn't spent so many years unable to take his eyes off of you whenever the pogues were together.

The boy had loved his life long best friend since the day she clocked a boy in the face for making fun of JJ’s worn-out clothes. They were seven. In addition to being the day JJ had met (Y/N) and John B, it was also the day he fell in love with the (Y/E/C) eyed girl.

When you started dating your kook boyfriend at the beginning of your junior year, JJ was initially devastated. He soon brought himself to realize, however, that a lowlife like him would never be able to deserve someone as beautiful and kind-hearted as you. His thoughts were confirmed when you abruptly stopped hanging around the pogues and him. You were too good for him. The blonde boy had no idea of the pain that Liam had caused you in the past ten months.

Now looking at you, JJ could see that you were upset. He had gotten really good at analyzing your body language over the many years of being your best friend.

All thoughts of stealing the vase flew out of his mind as his feet started in your direction.

Well, it's probably not my place

But I'm gonna say it anyway

'Cause you look like

You haven't felt the fire

Had a little fun

Hadn't had a smile in a little while

You felt a figure move to sit in the bar stool chair next to you, but you choose to ignore whoever it is, not particularly feeling up to socializing with a contemptuous kook after what you just went through.

The figure didn't move after a few minutes so you turn to look at them with a glare in your eyes, ready to snap at them and ask them to leave you alone. Your gaze immediately softens as you realize the person next to you is in fact the last person you would ever expect to see at a party like this, JJ Maybank.

Tears begin to prick at your eyes as you continue to stare at the side profile of the blonde boy who hasn't yet turned to face you. 

Everything you had done so well to hide over the last ten years of knowing and loving him comes rushing back. Your love for the boy next to you consumes every fiber of your being. 

A lone tear falls down your cheek as you begin to curse yourself and Liam. How did I let him control me into giving this up? This feeling?

Blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on that neon buzzin' on the wall

But darling, it don't match your eyes

JJ finally turns his head to look at you and feels his entire resolve crumble. You were crying. The sight nearly breaks his heart in two.

His eyes lock with yours and he can see the pain and heartache swirling within them.

“What did he do to you,” JJ mutters, letting his eyes roam the crowd for the boy he despises most in the world. Almost a year of suppressed anger starts to bubble up to the surface.

“JJ,” you whimper.

The sadness and hopelessness in your voice makes every ounce of anger in him evaporate as he turns his head to look at you again. The look in your eyes tells him that the kook boy had hurt you worse than he ever knew.

JJ wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms and never let anything else in the world harm you. His hands itch to wipe the tears off your face and pull your head to his chest.

However, JJ also wants you to be as comfortable as possible and he's not sure if you're ready for the amount of love he has to give you just yet.

You surprise the blonde boy by reaching out to your arms out to him. The blonde wastes no time in standing up and pulling your body flush to his chest.

Everyone else in the world disappears as the two of you clutch each other with all you have. Both of you realize how much you had missed the comfort of each other's embrace. 

You're not sure how long you stand there like that, face nuzzled into JJ’s shoulder as the boy strokes your hair comfortingly.

“I'm sorry,” you mumble into his shirt, not willing to pull away from the warmth he radiates.

JJ’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as he pulls away enough to look down at you. “What do you mean,” he asks with a softness in his voice that is reserved for you only, gently lifting your chin so that you are looking into his beautiful cerulean eyes.

You sniffle. “I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for breaking down in front of you. I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess. But most of all, I'm sorry for ever believing that I could live without you. I-I mean if it weren't for you I don't know what I would do. I understand if you don't want to talk to-” your ramble is suddenly cut off by JJ pressing his lips to yours.

The boy knows that this is probably not the best time to confess his feelings towards you, but he can't watch you talk down about yourself like that anymore. Do you not know how much he adores you? 

The kiss is soft and passionate. JJ can taste your salty tears on his slightly chapped lips as they work against yours. Both of you poor every ounce of emotion you have into the kiss. 

JJ reluctantly pulls away when the two of you run out of air, placing his forehead delicately on yours as your arms wrap around his neck.

I'm tellin' you

You don't need that guy

It's so black and white

He's stealin' your thunder

Baby, blue ain't your color

Both of you pant as you look into each other's eyes. “I've wanted to do that for so long,” JJ says, as the smile you cherish so much graces his features.

“Really?” you ask and JJ can hear the vulnerability in your voice. What did that shithead do to you to make you so insecure?

“You have no idea, baby,” he says, tenderly kissing away the tear that has slipped out of your eye and onto your cheek.

Not having the words to express how you feel about the boy in front of you, you pull his head back down, kissing him so sweetly that it makes his knees buckle.

“JJ,” you whisper as you pull away, but you never get to finish your statement because you are suddenly ripped out of his embrace.

“You fucking whore,” Liam seethes at you taking a stride towards you and you instinctively take a step back. “You break up with me and two minutes later you've moved onto another guy. Slut.” His words cut you deep and you know by the tone of his voice that a punch to the gut or a slap to the face is coming. Liam raises his hand and you brace yourself for impact, but it never comes.

The sound of yelling fills your senses and you open your eyes to see JJ punching Liam in the face repeatedly. You are frozen as you watch the scene in front of you.

“JJ,” you hear John B yell, turning to look at him, “You're gonna kill him.”

Your eyes widen in realization at his words and you take a step forward.

“JJ,” you call, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of everyone yelling around you. You clear your throat and try again, louder. “JJ.”

This time JJ stops mid punch, turning to look at you. Fear fills your body when you see that his wide, normally baby blue eyes are nearly black.

His gaze softens as he takes in your anxious look.

JJ steps away from the beat-up boy and you see a few of his friends pull Liam’s limp body away. You lock your eyes back to JJ’s and he takes a careful step towards you causing you to involuntarily flinch back slightly.

I'm not tryna

Be another just

Pick you up

Kinda guy

Tryna drink you up

Tryna take you home

He wants to cry out at the sight. Don't you know that he would rather die than ever hurt you? 

You do know this, and you're not afraid of the boy in the slightest, but the last five minutes have put you on edge.

Seeing the broken look in the blonde’s eyes, you take quick steps toward his body, wrapping him in your embrace. He melts into your arms, allowing his face to nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

The crowd that had formed around the fight disperses, realizing the show is over.

“(Y/N).” The sound of your name being called pulls your attention away from the sweet boy in your arms.

You pull away from JJ slightly, still keeping an arm around his bicep.

Looking over, you see John B standing to the side with Sarah Cameron. You had heard about the two of them getting together and you suddenly realize why JJ happened to be at this party.

The sadness in John B’s eyes as he looks at you breaks your heart. The two of you have been like sister and brother your whole lives and, besides JJ, he was the hardest for you to stop talking to.

You feel JJ’s grip on you loosen, urging you to go to John. The two of you walk towards each other and John B pulls you into his arms. 

“I missed you, (Y/N/N),” he says unto your hair, “So much.”

You smile, tears softly rolling down your cheeks. “I missed you too, JB,” you say, pulling away to look at JJ who looks back with a sad smile on his face.

But I just don't understand

How another man

Can take your sun

And turn it ice cold

The four of you decided it was best to leave. John B dropped Sarah off at her house and drove the three of you back to the Chateau. Your stomach drops at the sight of the small shack.

JJ notices your facial expression, placing his hand softly on top of yours. “You okay?” he asks gently as John B parks the van.

You nod with a small smile and JJ helps you out of the van, holding your hand as he leads you to the porch. You stop walking, causing the two boys to turn around and look at you.

“I'm sorry,” you say, tears pooling in your eyes again. JJ gives you a knowing look. “(Y/N),” he says, almost sternly.

“No,” you say, wiping your eyes, “Let me talk.” JJ nods and John B looks at you expectantly. “I left you. Both of you. I- Liam, he just made me feel so useless and I didn't want to be a bother to you guys anymore.”

JJ lets out a sound, almost like a growl, and pulls you into a hug. “You are not useless, (Y/N),” he says seriously, “You are so important, to both of us, and we missed you so much.”

You nod into his chest as John B comes to wrap his arms around both of you.

The three of you group hug and you sigh contently, happy to be back with your boys.

Well, I've had enough to drink

And it's makin'

Me think that I just might

Tell you if I were a painter I wouldn't change ya

I'd just paint you bright

John B helps JJ set up the pull out while you change into a pair of John B’s sweats and JJ’s t-shirt. John B says goodnight and goes to “hit the hay” as he puts it, leaving you and JJ alone again.

“I'll sleep on the other couch and you can take the bed,” he says sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

The two of you settle into your “beds”, but you can't seem to fall asleep with so many thoughts running through your mind.

Everything that has happened since you left the pogues seems like one big sad blur. Your mind wanders to JJ. What does this mean for you two? 

“(Y/N),” the voice you love so much calls. You hum in response. “You ‘wake?” he asks. You sit up in the pullout shaking your head.

“Can't sleep,” you say, rubbing your eyes. 

JJ sits up as well. “M’sorry, baby,” the nickname makes your heart flutter.

You open your arms for the boy who looks at you warily. “Are you sure, (Y/N),” he asks. You nod quickly and he stands up, falling into the pullout and wrapping you into his arms. He tucks your head under his chin, pulling you closer.

“JJ,” you ask.

It's his turn to hum in response. “This may be weird for you, but I feel like I just have to say it,” you tell him. JJ pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. He's worried about what you are going to say but tries to hide it for your sake. “I love you, J.”

JJ smiles, leaning down to nuzzle his nose with yours in an Eskimo kiss. “I love you too,” he says sincerely, but you're afraid he doesn't understand what you mean.

“No, J,” you say, looking away from his eyes, “I love you. Like, I'm in love with you.”

The blonde boy only smiles bigger. He leans down pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, pulling away when you run out of air. JJ trails sweet kisses down your jaw and neck before placing one last kiss on your lips.

“I'm in love with you too (Y/N),” he says kissing your forehead. JJ wonders how he went so long without being able to kiss you and hold you. Even after only confessing a few hours ago, it feels so natural to have you in his arms. The thought of not having you makes his heart ache. 

“I have to ask you something, but you can say no and it won't change anything and I understand that this is hard because of everything that just happened,” JJ rambles. You kiss his jaw softly, urging him to continue. “Will you be mine. Ya know. Like my girlfriend, or whatever.”

You smile wide. “Of course I'll be yours, J.”

JJ copies your smile leaning down to press another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away, snuggling into you, and the both of you bask in the feeling of being in each other's arms. Your hand reaches up to play with JJ’s hair as your eyes start to droop.

“Love ya, pretty girl.”

“Love you too, J.”

'Cause blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on that neon buzzin' on the wall

But darling, it don't match your eyes

You are sitting down on a beach towel, watching the sun slowly fall into the ocean, lighting the sky with a beautiful rainbow of colors. Your feet are outstretched in front of you and your hands prop you up behind your back. The Outer Banks heat is making your skin warm, but you don't mind, letting the steadily depleting sun hit your skin.

You watch as JJ catches another wave, surfing it perfectly. You giggle as he raises his hand in a fist, clapping for him. 

It's been two weeks since you finally ended things with Liam. You were able to mend things with the rest of the pogues and Kiara and Pope welcomed you back with open arms. Things with JJ have been going amazing. The two of you agreed to take things slowly seeing as you were just getting out of a toxic relationship. It was different to finally be in a place with JJ where you weren't afraid to show him and tell him how you feel, but you loved it.

JJ runs towards you, gripping his board in one hand as the other pushes back his blonde locks.

When he gets to your towel, JJ throws down his board and plops down next to you, pulling you into a sweet hug.

You giggle. “You're all wet, J,” you say, not making any move to get out of his warm embrace. The boy peppers your face with soft kisses causing you to giggle even more.

A few minutes later you are seated in between JJ’s legs and he has his strong arms wrapped around your waist, his head nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

“I love you, J,” you say, still watching the sunset.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” JJ says kissing your neck. He begins humming the tune to a song you recognize. 

“Blue ain't your color, umm mm,” he sings, “No, no baby, come here baby, let me light up your world.”

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

[doggishgirl]

at 3 in the morning // jjk

masterlist

pairing: jungkook/female reader

word count: 2,157

tags: smut, hybrid au, sub jungkook, soft dom reader, masturbation (m), vibrator, thigh fucking, requested

Jungkook isn’t particularly quiet when he’s being touched, even if it’s at the mercy of his own hand. You know better than anyone the whines and whimpers that escape him from the slightest touch, and it’s those same noises that bring you out of your sleep at 3 in the morning.

Jungkook can go through about 10 orgasms a day, and depending on the day, it can either be a blessing or a curse. He’ll wake up in the middle of the night most nights with his cock hard, asking to be appeased, and he usually has no shame waking you up to either get you to touch him, or at least ask to touch himself so you can go back to sleep.

But this time, he knows you have a presentation tomorrow that you’d been preparing for weeks. You’d fallen asleep earlier than usual and he knows he should let you rest, he shouldn’t bother you for something so foolish.

He doesn’t always ask for permission to touch himself at moments like this, when he’s too concerned about whether or not you’re getting enough sleep, and most of the time, you never find out. He muffles his cries biting into his soft ear or on his wrist, or he turns over to press his face into the pillow and roll his hips into the mattress. Besides trying to stay quiet, if he really, firmly says he doesn’t want a punishment even if he’s broken a rule, he can avoid it altogether.

It’s not like you own him. Jungkook’s circumstances, his increased libido, are all just effects of his hybridness, and a benefit of having him as your sub. You established rules because you both wanted them, not because he needed them. Sometimes, he just needs to deal with it, his cock aching to be touched at the worst moments several times a day, and so the rules go away temporarily and he tells you when he wants them back.

But now, fisting his cock quickly, halfway to his orgasm, and failing to mask his moans, he knows he’s breaking the rules. But he’s confident that he can go without being caught, unknowing that you’ve already been woken up and you’re watching him intently as he bites down hard on his free hand.

He cums with a muffled cry and immediately pulls his hand away from his cock before he triggers another erection. And with that taken care of, he plans on cleaning up and curling back up close to you to sleep. Instead, he’s startled as your hand circles around his dick and he looks back at you, alarmed.

“You’ve been so bad lately, Jungkook. Am I not taking good enough care of you?” you ask, your voice slow with sleepiness. You drag your hand up his cock slowly, the slide easy with his cum, and it draws out whimpers from him louder than before.

“What do I need to do to take care of you? Do I need to set you up with a machine to fuck you until you can’t take it any longer? Is that what you need?” you sigh, ignoring his broken voice telling you the stimulation is too much.

“Ah, I, I just didn’t want to wake you, you, ah, have a big day tomorrow,” he manages to say, his eyes closing and his hips rolling up instinctively to meet your hand now that the pain of overstimulation has passed.

He’s achingly hard, and if you hadn’t seen it or felt it on your hand, you would’ve thought he hadn’t cum yet. Jungkook is easy to arouse and even after one orgasm, he can keep going unless you stop touching him immediately afterward.

“You always take good care of me, noona, I don’t want anything else,” he whines.

“Oh? Then why are you breaking the rules to touch yourself? How do you know I didn’t want you to wake me up? You’re just what I need to relax before a big meeting,” you answer. “But now you’ve gone and ruined it.”

You pull your hand away then and Jungkook cries out, throwing his head to the side to look at you sadly. His cock twitches cutely, like his entire body is protesting being abandoned.

You could roll over now and leave him like that, tell him not to touch himself until you get back from work and go to sleep. But that would be cruel. He was sweet, with his intention of not waking you up. But you’d woken up anyway and now you’d left him with an erection he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t touched him.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not leaving you like that,” you promise him as you turn away from him just so you can rummage through the top drawer of your nightstand. You feel around for a moment before you pull your hand out holding the pink vibrator that he likes so much.

Vibrant even in the dim light of the bedroom in the middle of the night, Jungkook makes an audible noise of approval when he catches sight of it.

It’s his favorite toy to use on his own and your favorite to use whether you’re rewarding or punishing him.

“You’re not gonna cum until I say you can, though. Do you think you can do that? If you cum early, I won’t touch you for a week. Y’know, you’ve been so disobedient lately, it’s about time you get a punishment. So follow my rules now, Kookie.”

He hates touching himself when he can have you instead, so the threat of a whole week alone has him nodding frantically. “I’m good, I’m a good bunny, I won’t cum, not until noona says.”

He sits up eagerly as you move in closer once before, his little cock bobbing along with his movements.

You lean up to kiss him briefly, your free hand touching his ear affectionately before you turn your attention back down to his lap.

The toy is on him in the next instant, turned up to the highest setting, dragging over the head of the cock, wet with precum. His head is thrown back and he lets out a moan that has you clamping your thighs together.

You drag the toy steadily up and down the underside of his cock, pressing it against a spot just under the tip of his cock on every upstroke that his hips twitching upwards every once in a while. You look back up at his face, the way his lips are pink and bitten and parted as he continues to let out those pretty noises you like so much. His ears are half up and they fidget occasionally, usually whenever his hips jerk up as well. His eyes are closed but sometimes he’ll blink them open slowly to peer sideways at you until it seems like even looking at you is too much for him and he squeezes them shut again.

“Are you getting close, baby?” you ask, not looking away from his flushed face even as you lower the strength of the vibrations. His chest is beginning to heave and he cracks one eye open.

“I won’t cum until you say I can,” is all he says, trying to sound firm and confident like he’s trying to make up for all his bad behavior during the last month.

“Of course you won’t, because you’re so good for me. You’re so obedient. You’re not gonna give me any other reason to punish you, right?”

It’s unlike the praise you normally give him. Usually, you’re quick to praise him in any way you can possibly think of. If he’s dressed particularly well one day, you’ll smother him in compliments for hours. He could so much as lie down when you ask him to and you’ll be calling him good and rewarding him for hours. He’s just, your everything, and you always want to treat him as such. You hate punishing him and you know he hates when he hasn’t been behaving as well for you. He wants praise as much as you want to give it to him.

“I’m your good bunny, the best,” he breathes out as he rolls his hips up. His thighs are trembling and you know he’s close. He never lasts very long anyway, no matter the circumstance, so you usually don’t ask too much of him or ask him to hold off so long. But you don’t say anything this time, don’t even give him the slightest indication of when you’ll let him cum. You want him to ask.

Jungkook has good self control when he wants to, but he has his limit, especially now that this will be his second orgasm of the night and his sleepiness is beginning to catch up to him. He opens his eyes more often now, and when you turn the power back up on the toy, you hear an exasperated whimper.

“Noona,” he cries. “When can I cum? Please, I need to. Can I cum inside? Inside your pussy. I’ll wait as long as I need to, just please noona!”

You want to say yes so badly, as badly as you want to keep pushing off letting him cum to see how much he can hold off until he can’t anymore, until maybe he gets to the point that you have to go through with the punishment you promised him.

“You think you deserve my pussy after you touched yourself without permission? Maybe tomorrow, baby, if the meeting goes well, I’ll let you fuck me. And that’s only if you can hold off, can you keep doing that for me?”

He nods again vigorously but you know he’s reaching his breaking point. “Noona,” he whines again brokenly, and suddenly you’re making a decision. You pull the vibrator away and turn it off, tossing it to the side to be cleaned later on.

“Noona, why?” Jungkook sounds like he’s on the verge of sobbing and you feel for him, so you rush to pluck a bottle of lube out of the drawer where you’d grabbed the toy from. You pour some of the liquid out onto your thighs without answering him and use your hands to smooth it between your legs. Then you turn over onto your side so your back is facing him.

“You can finish fucking my thighs, baby. That’s the most you get tonight.”

Then, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to move in closer, bracing one hand tight on your hip while he uses the other to guide his cock to the wet hole you’d created for him to fuck into. Getting to fuck your thighs was more of a tease than a reward. It just reminded him how badly he wanted to actually be inside you, but he supposed this was enough until he got to fuck you for real the next afternoon.

“Can I cum, noona?” he whimpers out against the nape of your neck. You turn your head to gaze uncomfortably over your shoulder, but the discomfort is worth it to see how he’s panting against the back of your shoulder, his face beautifully flushed and his eyes wide, sparkling with unshed tears. The slick feeling of his cock sliding between your thighs accompanying the view is intoxicating and you find yourself nodding, unable to form words.

It takes five more sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts from Jungkook, the head of his cock not even peeking out over the tops of your thighs, before he’s spilling his cum between your legs, accompanied by a series of loud, whiny ah’s as he milks out the rest of his orgasm as you tighten your thighs around him.

He’s just as quickly pulling away, he doesn’t want to see if he can get to a third one, and he flops back.

“Thank you, noona. Thank you. I love you. Felt so good,” he breathed out, eyes fluttering shut.

It takes a minute, and you almost think he’s fallen asleep, so you’re prepared to have to stand up and clean everything up yourself, but finally, he sits up and gets out of the bed.

“I’ll clean up, noona. Go back to bed,” he says as he rushes to get a towel to clean off your thighs and his stomach.

You’re half asleep on your pillow already when he gets back into the bed a few minutes later to snuggle close against you, and his voice breaches your unconsciousness. “Noona. Was I good today?” he asks anxiously.

You nod and then your head to face him, offering him a sleepy smile. “The best. Like always, my sweet bunny. Tomorrow I’ll let you have my pussy okay? And you can wake me up with your mouth.” His eyes widen and brighten with excitement before you continue. “You’re my good boy and my good luck charm. With you, I know the meeting will go great. Now let’s sleep, no more play tonight.”