#why am I losing it so hard when I have like 2 weeks left? I DONT KNOW

[cartoon-skeleton]

I went four years of college without basically ever calling my mom or dad because I was scared of crying on the phone, but I just called my mom because I was having a level 10 roommate-induced freak out literally pacing around the block outside over and over in a loop, and the phone call ended up being 3 hours long and I DEFINITELY did cry 😎 but at least ummmm I can focus on my homework now. after struggling to do so all day. at 10 pm

[rosylix]

flower

짙은 어둠 속에 피어난, 한 송이 꽃처럼 𔓘

after practicing with felix, you try to go back to normal. unfortunately, the universe doesn't seem to want that for you.

pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader

wc: 7.3k

content: two pining idiots, inexperienced reader, fluff! (but make it awkward), slight angst, smut?ish, only one bed trope kinda lol, wet dream (like kinda somno? not really but just in case), 'dude' is used gender neutrally. umm yea! college au

a/n: so i got a bit carried away and added way more plot than necessary here. woops. also made it a college au bc why not! kinda made them nerds sorry lol (they were always nerds.)

so this is the first segment of the final part. aka part 3 but there will be a part 4 [dizzy emoji].. for now i hope you enjoy this bit! 𖹭

[also read on ao3]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

—

A week passes, and contrary to your expectations, the two of you actually do go back to normal. At least, Felix seems to have, so even if your brain still feels a little funny around him you follow suit and pretend nothing happened.

Not that it's been easy. Especially when his neck was still covered in those stupid marks you left. Thankfully, he can cover them up pretty well (you know, considering the state you left him in) but it was still irritating as hell; seeing the shape of one just barely peeking out of his hoodie or the way you’d find your eyes instinctively drawn to his neck whenever you saw him throughout the week.

The marks have faded to the point of being barely visible, but they're permanently seared into your brain, along with the memory of him underneath you. But that’s all it is now, a memory. You make sure of it.

And it's fine. Mostly. It’s easy enough to ignore any lingering awkwardness by focusing on more important things. For instance, midterms are coming up, and Felix is losing his mind.

He’s sprawled out on the floor of his room, papers spread out around him and a pout on his lips. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to study all weekend,” he whines, throwing his pencil down in frustration. He’s been studying for hours and he’s already at the ‘pulling his hair out’ phase.

“Yeah…” you agree with a half sympathetic, half amused smile. He always gets like this around exam time. 

He lets his head fall onto the ground in front of him, narrowly avoiding the various papers, pencils, and textbooks littering the floor. "Why do they have to make these fucking tests so hard? It's not like the stuff we're learning is even relevant to anything. Oh my god. I'm gonna fail,” he says, voice muffled from under the carpet.

“You’re being dramatic,” you laugh as you toss the textbook you’d been reading for your own class aside.

Felix groans and (dramatically) turns over on his back. “I am not being dramatic. I’m suffering!” he exclaims, bringing his hands to cover his face. “I am dying. I’m a dead man and you don’t care. You're gonna have to plan my funeral after this.”

You roll your eyes. “Ohh nooo. You have to study over the weekend. It’s the end of the world.”

He peeks out from under his hands to glare at you. “I'm glad this is so amusing to you. You're supposed to be my best friend but you're doing nothing to help. Wow. I’ll haunt you when I'm dead after this.”

You laugh and roll your eyes again. This time, your eyes seem to catch on how his hoodie is pushed up above his waist a little from when he flopped onto the floor, showing a sliver of skin. 

...Seriously? Focus. Think about literally anything else right now.

Shaking your head, you slide off the bed and make your way to him, sitting down and crossing your legs next to his head. “Sit up and I’ll help you study,” you sigh.

"But I don't wannaaaa,” he whines, but he starts to sit up anyway. “I just wanna relax,” he pouts like a child, looking up at you with his signature puppy eyes. “Help me procrastinate instead?”

You laugh in disbelief. “You've procrastinated enough. Shouldn't you focus?”

(You haven’t been very focused either, but that's besides the point.)

He shakes his head fervently and slumps against you with a groan. “Nooo. Stop being responsible. Let's take a break.”

You huff, choosing to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster when he leans against you. “You’re so annoying,” you say, trying to sound frustrated but you can’t help if it comes out a little fondly. “Alright, fine. We have been at it for a while,” you admit.

He pulls back and grins, all too familiar with your inability to deny him when he’s being a big baby like this. It's too effective. It’s actually a little infuriating how good he is at being cute, and how effective it is on you. You cave. Every time. Though, this time he looks particularly pleased with himself.

“See? Even you couldn’t be the responsible one for that long,” he snickers. “I knew you’d give in.”

You groan and look away, as if that will somehow counteract his point. “You're a bad influence.”

He laughs again, shifting backwards before flopping back down to the floor, but this time he lays his head in your lap, smiling up at you. The close proximity has your heart fluttering in your chest and you swear you can feel yourself overheating a little. Why is he like this?

This is normal. It’s normal. Chill.

He grins up at you, oblivious to your internal crisis, and he makes himself more comfortable in your lap, shifting his body a little. "There. See? Isn't this so much better than studying?"

You swallow. The warm weight of his head in your lap, the way he peers up at you through thick lashes, hair falling around him like a halo, some of it falling into his eyes... It's— it's something.

You clear your throat, gently pushing him off, ignoring his little frown as you do so. You stand up and extend your hand down to him and sigh. “Come on. Let's go procrastinate then.”

“Ugh, why—” he starts to protest but you grab his hand and help pull him up anyway. “What are you doing? I was comfy,” he pouts.

You give him a sly look. “So, you don't wanna make cookies with me?”

You have to resist the urge to laugh at the look on his face. “Wait, really?” He perks up instantly, eyes glowing.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want,” you smile.

He bounces on his feet. “Yes! Can we make the ones with the white chocolate chips? The store finally had them when I checked last time.”

You make a face of mock disgust as he starts pulling you towards the door. “No, we are not making the ones with white chocolate chips. They're atrocious.”

“What?!” he gasps, acting scandalized. “Fuck you. They're good!”

You roll your eyes at him as he pulls you into the kitchen. He’s still holding onto your hand. It should be normal, but since when has anything felt normal these past few days?

“White chocolate chips are fine! I don’t get why you don’t like them,” he continues with a pout, finally letting go of your hand to rummage through the kitchen cabinets.

“They're not even chocolate, Felix,” you point out, watching in amusement as he struggles to reach the top shelf.

“Okay? I'm failing to see your point," he replies, making a little noise of triumph when he finally reaches whatever he’s looking for.

You just shake your head. “Yeah, whatever…” You help him set some things on the counter before sighing. “You're so lucky your dorm has a kitchen. If I had one I swear I'd be baking stuff like every single day.”

“I guess I am lucky.” He laughs, grabbing the mixing bowl from the corner cabinet and placing it on the counter. “Isn't there a shared one for your floor or something?”

“Yeah, but it's…” you shudder.

“Ah. Yeah…” He pauses, pondering something, before raising an eyebrow. “So that's why you come over so much? For the kitchen?”

“Duh.”

"I knew it… You’re only using me for free oven access?” he teases. "I’m wounded.” He drapes his hand over his forehead in a dramatic flourish and slumps against the counter.

“Yep, you caught me,” you laugh. “You and Hannie keep it somewhat clean at least.”

“My own best friend… The betrayal…” he tries to pout but ends up giggling. Then, he seems to think of something and claps his hands excitedly. “You should move in with me!”

Whoa. “W-What?”

“You know how Jisung is always over at Minho's? He's gonna officially move in next year,” Felix explains. “Like, I'm happy for them but Sung's ditching me? What happened to the bro code? But, anyway,” he laughs. “There'll be an empty bedroom. You should totally take it!”

You blink at him, brain short-circuiting for a second. "You— you’re serious?"

"Yeah," he says casually, like he didn’t just propose something so life-altering. "It’ll be like a sleepover every night!” he exclaims, grinning widely.

You can’t help the way your heart thuds a little faster in your chest, a fluttery feeling in your stomach. Living together? With Felix?

The idea is tempting. Like, incredibly so. Your own place is small, the communal kitchen area is… horrific, and your roommate tends to ignore your existence. It's a bit less than ideal.

But… you know there's a big risk of things becoming very awkward very quickly. It sounds like a dream, and at the same time, it’s a recipe for disaster. Spending that much time together could either bring you closer or push you apart. And with your recent… weirdness.. about him… you’re not sure which one is worse.

You must be silent for too long because Felix glances at you and looks a little unsure, like he suddenly regrets saying it. “I mean— you don’t have to, of course! It was just an idea. I’m sure you’re comfortable in your place and all. I didn’t mean to, like, push that on you—”

You cut him off before he can go too far. “No! No, it’s—” you shake your head, trying to choose your words carefully. “I… I'll think about it.”

He looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting that response. He lets out a breath, relief and a tentative excitement evident on his face. 

“Okay,” he says softly, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking into a big smile. “Uh, yeah, of course. No pressure,” he continues. “But, y'know, I'd be way happier to have you than some random new person. You practically live here already anyway. I think it'd be fun.”

Or it could ruin everything. But when Felix smiles at you, a hopeful look in his eyes… you can't bring yourself to shut down the idea completely.

“Yeah. It might be fun,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral.

He grins, and a wave of excitement suddenly washes back over him. "We can bake all the time, and play games, and watch movies— Oh my god, it would be so fucking awesome.”

You laugh at the sparkle in his eyes. "Yeah, okay," you tap his head with a mixing spoon. “Shut up and grab the sugar. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Yessir.”

—

You end up splitting the cookie dough and making half with normal chocolate chips and half with the ugly white sugar chips. They turned out better than they had any right to be, considering you and Felix goofed off a bit too much while making them. (Even the white chocolate ones are pretty good). The two of you munch on them as you return to studying. Felix doesn't argue, content having taken a long break and sugar in his system.

You work in comfortable silence, listening to the soft pitter patter of rain until the sun starts to set. With a yawn, you shut your laptop in front of you.

"I think I'm done for today," you say, standing up and stretching.

Felix glances up from his spot on the floor, chin in his hand, surrounded by a mess of books and papers. "Really?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

He sighs, leaning back and stretching. "I still have so much left to go through," he complains, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"That's your own fault for playing games all week instead of studying," you laugh softly.

He pouts at you. "I know, I know." Then he groans and falls backwards on the floor, throwing his arms over his face. "Man, I'm tired. I'm done too."

You giggle at the sight of him splayed out on the floor. “Alright, cool. I should be heading out anyway,” you say, starting to gather your things. Then, as if on cue, a loud rumble of thunder echoes outside.

Oh shit. You both glance at each other, then towards the window, where the rain you thought would have passed by now is quickly developing into a full-on storm. Great. The universe must be out to get you.

Felix gets up from the floor and walks to the window. "Damn, can you even go home in this? It looks pretty bad out there.”

You join him at the window and peer outside. The rain is coming down harder, droplets hitting against the windowpane incessantly. You grimace. Well, it's not that bad, but it still isn't something you'd like to walk through.

Oh well. You sigh. “It's.. it's alright. Could I borrow an umbrella?”

He doesn’t answer right away, continuing to peer out the window. A frown spreads across his face before he speaks. “Of course, but… are you sure? You can stay the night if you want.”

“Uh—”

Well… normally, you wouldn't mind. You've slept over tons of times before. But this time feels different, and suddenly the thought of staying is a bit nerve-wracking. 

"A little rain won't kill me,” you settle on saying. 

Felix glances back at you, eyebrows furrowing in concern. He looks like he's about to say something, but another crash of thunder interrupts him.

He frowns and crosses his arms, leaning against the frame of the window. It's undeniably attractive. “A little rain? I can't let you walk home in this, are you crazy? It's dangerous.”

“But—” you start to protest.

"Nope,” he cuts in. “You’re not risking it. It's getting dark too,” he points out. He looks outside, then back at your face, sighing. His face softens. “...Okay. If you really want to go, at least let me walk you.”

“You don't have to walk me, Felix.”

“Yeah, I kinda do. Who knows what could happen to you? You could get struck by lightning! Or…” He gives you a once over. “You could, like, slip and bleed out in a puddle or something. Or die of hypothermia or some fucking thing. I don't know!” He throws his hands up.

You let out a breathless laugh. You don’t want to argue with him, but staying the night is definitely making you anxious to think about. You don't want to trouble him with walking back and forth in that weather either, but Felix seems stubborn on the matter. What's worse, the look on his face has you worrying he might think you're trying to get away from him or something.

(Which isn't… wrong. But Felix would misunderstand. It's not because you don't like him. It's…)

You exhale, looking outside one more time. With the rain getting worse by the minute, staying the night seems like the only reasonable choice. 

Felix taps his foot impatiently, observing the growing storm. “So?”

“Okay, fine. I'll stay… You're right, it's getting pretty bad out there," you concede.

He opens his mouth but then quickly shuts it again, suddenly looking a bit unsure. He studies your face and you almost want to hide at how intently he's staring. Why, why is he staring like that? Like he can see right through you. Didn't you just say what he wanted? Did he change his mind about letting you stay?

But, the moment passes before you can do anything and he looks away. "Thank god,” he huffs. “I was really fighting off the mental images of your dead body in a ditch.”

You scoff. “I'm not that weak.”

“I know,” he says with a soft smile. Then he smirks, glancing back at you. "You're not weak. Just clumsy.” 

You shove him in response and he laughs, the smirk on his face turning into a grin. The tension from earlier dissolves a bit and you can finally breathe again; the air starts to feel less awkward, comfortable.

“So,” he says, standing up straight. "Since you're staying, want some clothes to change into? I don’t think you wanna sleep in jeans.”

He doesn't wait for an answer, already shuffling through his drawer and handing a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants over to you.

You take them gingerly, trying to ignore how your nerves suddenly spike again. "Thanks," you murmur, clutching the soft fabric in your hands.

Maybe he senses something because he keeps his distance, eyes roaming over your face once more, curiosity and something else in his gaze. 

Then, he clears his throat. “You know the bathroom is all yours if you need,” he says, turning back to his mess of papers on the floor. “I'm gonna try to get a little more studying done. Maybe. I'm really fighting the urge to open League right now.” 

"Felix," you raise your eyebrows at him with a laugh, "If I find you mid ranked match in twenty minutes, I'm pouring water on your computer."

He purses his lips. “You wouldn't.”

“Try me,” you taunt and make your way to the bathroom. You close the door behind you and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

That was good. See? You can banter with him and everything like normal. There's nothing to be weird about. You can be normal about this.

You sigh. Yeah, right. This is so dumb. You’ve stayed over countless times before. You’ve worn his clothes before, shared a bed with him before. It's just Felix.

So why… Why is it so hard to be normal right now?

(You're not so stupid you don't know the answer to that. You're definitely in denial about… something, and you'll gladly stay that way for as long as you can help it. It's easier to not think about it.)

Your head hurts. God. Maybe a shower will clear your mind.

It does. You feel lighter and refreshed when you step out and you quickly change into the clothes Felix gave you; his scent envelopes you as you slip on the shirt and you instantly feel more at ease, comforted. You're good. Everything's cool.

When you step into Felix's bedroom, you find him exactly where you left him, leaning on a pile of pillows on the floor, hunched over a textbook. True to his word, he's trying to study again but he looks like he's seconds away from giving up.

"Hey,” you announce your entrance. “Successfully resisting the clutches of League?” you ask, giggling at the sight of him sprawled on the floor.

“Heyyy,” he drawls, not looking up from his book. “Proud of me? I'm actually studying. Not like I'll ever reach silver no matter how much I fucking—”

His words seem to die in his throat as he finally glances up and sees you standing in the doorway. His eyes widen instantly, scanning up and down your body, lips parted in shock.

"That's, um, um. That's—” he stutters, tongue tied all of a sudden. 

You frown a bit at his reaction, feeling self-conscious. Is your hair too flat? Are the clothes not right? You adjust the falling neckline of the shirt before taking a seat on the floor, trying to ignore the way he's still staring.

You swear you see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and he quickly looks away as you sit next to him.

“...What?” you ask, trying not to assume the worst.

“You— uh, the,” he gestures to your outfit vaguely. “It fits, uh— better? Than it used to? Yeah. Looks nice.”

He sounds a bit strangled and now you're definitely convinced you look strange.

“Um, thanks…" you mutter, trying not to show how thrown off his reaction has you feeling. You toy with the hem of the soft material self-consciously. Obviously they don't fit properly, they’re Felix’s clothes after all. You’ve borrowed them before, why is he suddenly being so weird?

Felix fidgets with the corner of his textbook, avoiding eye contact as if the words on the pages are suddenly the most interesting thing he’s ever read.

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, anyway. I'm pretty much done. Was just waiting for you.” He closes the book and finally lifts his eyes to meet your gaze and he has a strange, shy smile plastered on his face. You open your mouth to ask if he’s alright, but he starts speaking again, barely giving you a moment to get a word in.

“I— Dude, I'm like— I'm honestly gonna fail this class,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “Like, I'm actually just not built for academia. I’m gonna drop out and then start working at the… fucking convenience store or something.” He lets out a long sigh. “Or, y'know, I'll start streaming. That seems pretty nice. I could be, like, a huge streamer guy. Tons of people will watch. I'll be famous. You could be my manager.”

You blink, trying to make sense of the sudden topic change. 

“Uh, First of all,” you say, gently knocking his knee with your own, “You're smart as hell. You'll graduate just fine. Second, I highly doubt many people would suddenly start watching some nerd’s League streams.”

He whines and gives you a pouty look. “Why not?? I’m funny, I’d be great,” he protests, sitting up with a huff.

“Yeah, right. I’d be managing a streamer who can’t even get to gold rank. Embarrassing.”

He scoffs, acting offended. “Hey! I didn’t say I'd make League streams. I could be a variety streamer, y’know.”

“Oh yeah? So you can stream how fast you lose at every game?” you say, grinning at his sulky expression. You understand him, the way he teases you all the time. It's fun when you're not on the receiving end. 

He places a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Wow,” he deadpans. “Can’t believe you're attacking me like this in my time of despair.”

You grin a bit and roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Stop being dramatic, you know I’m right. You need to get better if you want to start your streaming career.”

“Dude. I could get to gold if I wanted to. I just... choose not to. Bronze is a good rank, y’know. It’s like, the vibe.” The pout returns on his face. “Plus, my viewers wouldn’t care about that. They’ll be there for my personality.”

You arch a brow. “Your personality.”

“Yeah, my personality! Shut up. If League doesn't work, I could play like, Call of Duty, or… or like, Animal Crossing! Hey, I can't lose at Animal Crossing now, can I?”

“You might be onto something,” you muse.

“No…” he groans. “It’s never gonna happen. My dreams of becoming a famous streamer have to die because of… stupid calculus and… all these boring things.”

He drops his head on your shoulder, pouting at the thought of having to spend more time studying. You laugh and reach a hand up to pat his head, playing with his hair absentmindedly. 

"It's not that bad. You'll get through this," you say, trying to console him. "But seriously,” you continue, “I can’t believe you play so much League but never got past bronze. What are you even doing?”

He whines and buries his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about “bad teammates”.

The contact is familiar and comforting. He gets clingy like this often, especially when he's tired. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, its steady rhythm sending tingles down your spine. His hair is soft under your fingertips. And you are so, so normal. 

“Have you ever considered… that maybe you… are the bad teammate?” you can't help but tease.

“Heyyy,” he whines again, lifting his head to look at you with an offended expression.

You giggle at the sight of his disgruntled face and it seems to only make him sulk more, the pout on his face growing deeper. Cute.

“After all we've been through…” he breathes out. “After I’ve trusted you with my life. I can’t believe I’m hearing this from my own best friend… the absolute backstabbing…”

He's ridiculous. "You might wanna think of some new material, Mr. Variety Streamer,” you laugh. “The theatrics are getting a little old.”

He continues to pout, his gaze fixed on you. He’s so close, face just a few inches away from yours, and your heart jumps at the realization. Or maybe it jumps because of the way he’s looking at you; scrutinizing your face intently, his eyes flitting across your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. You shift around nervously. Something's off about how he's looking at you. You thought you’d seen a flash of… well, you don’t know what it was. But it makes you feel…

Warm and fluttering in your stomach, but in the worst, most uncomfortable way. You hate the way your body reacts so vividly to literally nothing. You really, really hate it.

Luckily (or unfortunately?), a particularly loud rumble of thunder echoes outside and he jumps.

He instantly leans away, as if he just realized himself how close you were. “Sorry, I— Geez, this weather sucks,” he complains, glancing toward the window. The storm outside is still raging, rain pelting against the window mercilessly.

“Yeah,” you say dumbly, feeling cold now that Felix has pulled away.

You push down the thoughts of how badly you want him to lean on you again, or how you wish he could hold you like he usually does. It’s easier to ignore whatever you’re feeling while he’s busy being all silly and clingy.

This is stupid. It's just so… frustrating, and you have no idea what to make of any of the thoughts that are running through your mind.

There’s a pause as he continues watching the rain outside, eyes following the raindrops dancing down the window panes. You try to study his expression; it’s pensive, almost contemplative, much like the look in his eyes earlier. 

“Are you tired?” he finally asks.

You blink. “Uh.” You realize that you are actually pretty tired. “Yeah, a little.”

The admission makes you yawn and Felix smiles in return, his expression softening. 

He pushes himself off the floor and looks at you for a moment, like he's about to say something — and then he doesn’t. Instead, he offers a hand to help you off the ground.

“Come on,” he says, hand extended. “We should get to sleep before the electricity inevitably goes out.”

You let him pull you up and he lets go of your hand quickly as he motions for you to get on the bed.

“I’ll go and— um,” he stumbles over his words, taking a few steps back. “I'll go shower real quick and then we can, uh… sleep.” 

He disappears before you can say anything and leaves you sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling more tense and awkward than earlier.

You release a long breath. Okay. Okay, everything's fine. Just the two of you, sleeping in the same bed. No big deal. That’s happened plenty of times before. You try to steady your breathing as you sit there on his bed, surrounded by his pillows, his blankets, his scent.

You run a hand through your hair and scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself. It’s going to be a long night.

When the door opens ten minutes later, you look up. Felix's hair is damp and he's wearing a loose white t-shirt with sweatpants, the material hanging low on his hips. His skin is a little flushed from the shower. He looks so soft and effortlessly pretty, you kind of want to scream.

“Hey,” he whispers as he shuts the bedroom door behind him, “You good?”

You nod, throat suddenly dry.

He clears his throat and walks towards the bed, standing there quietly. He doesn’t look at you for a long minute and you start to wonder if he’s thinking the same things you are, or if you’re overthinking everything and he’s fine.

“Well, let’s head to sleep then.” He breaks his gaze from the floor and turns to look at you again, a hint of worry on his face. “Uh, you can take the bed tonight, alright? I’ll just sleep on the floor or something.”

“What— Why?” you exclaim.

“I—” he blinks, taken aback, as if he didn't expect you to ask that. “I don't know? If, I mean, if you... like…” he trails off, looking away again. “The floor doesn't look that bad.”

It does. The cold, worn floor does look that bad. You must look worse. You're not an idiot, you can read in between the lines. He's uncomfortable sleeping next to you.

There’s no other reason for him to not want to sleep in the same bed as you. You've shared this bed with him countless times before. If he's not comfortable with you now…

Your mind is racing. Even if your awkwardness is because of your unbidden… lunacy towards him… he explicitly told you he doesn't see you like that. As much as you've been trying to repress everything and act normal like he's been… it hasn't worked. This is decidedly not normal.

There's a tense silence as you try to figure out what to say. The knot in your stomach tightens with every passing second and you try to push down the hurt that’s threatening to surface. You're making him uncomfortable. If you could just be normal about all this— Fuck. It's all your fault. 

"Shut up," you finally manage to mutter, starting to shuffle off the bed. “It's your bed. I'll take the floor."

“What— No, hey, stop—” he protests quickly, stepping forward to grab your arm. “Don’t— I couldn't let you do that. It's not— no.” he sputters.

You meet his eyes in confusion. He still has a grip on you, fingers warm and soft against your skin.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he says firmly, voice a bit lower than usual. “That's stupid. I just thought, maybe…” his grip on your arm tightens the tiniest bit.

“...What?” you ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, releasing your arm with a sigh.

You look at him, really look at him, the way his eyes won't meet yours, shoulders slumped, fingers tapping his thigh nervously. “Just,” you sigh. “You said it's stupid if I sleep there. Same for you. Just come here.”

He looks at you once more, searching your face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, hopefully sounding more confident than you feel.

Your heart is pounding. You’re trying your best to ignore the tension in the room and act like everything’s fine. Like spending the night sleeping with your best friend when he clearly doesn’t want you to be close to him anymore isn’t breaking your heart. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile as you finally get under the blankets and lay on your side with your back towards him. 

Felix hesitantly climbs into bed next to you, keeping a fair distance. He doesn’t say anything at first. You think he’s just going to sleep and you’re both going to ignore whatever that was about. Cool, you can do that. You're great at doing that. Then, he huffs. 

"I’m so fucking tired," he mumbles as he shifts beside you and you hum in agreement.

“Yeah, now imagine sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thank you. Um… sorry for being weird.”

You don't know what to say to that. “...You’re always weird,” you manage quietly.

He lets out a low chuckle and you feel some of the tension leave your body. It’s a familiar banter, one you’ve done with him for ages, so you grasp onto it, desperate for any semblance of normalcy.

“I’m sorry, though,” he says seriously. “I’m kind of an idiot, you know.” 

“...Yeah, I know.”

“I— wow,” he laughs softly. “Chat, what did I do to deserve this?”

You mirror his laugh and turn on your back to face him. 

His hair has gotten longer. The messy locks are fanned around his head on the pillow. His eyes are wide underneath his bangs, studying your face with an expression you can’t quite pin down. 

He’s so pretty. You wonder how you ever thought you could act normal after everything that's happened.

“Is the chat in the room with us?” you ask around a smirk, and pray your voice doesn't sound too breathless.

He snorts and you swear you can almost see the pout on his face. Yeah, he’s fine. He’s back to his regular self. You should be, too. 

“Shut up,” he pokes your shoulder weakly. 

Your heart does something stupid in your chest at the contact and you press your face further into the pillow to hide the flush that’s undoubtedly on your face right now. 

A few moments pass in silence and you close your eyes, hoping sleep will come soon and end this mess of a night. You don’t know how much time passes. Felix is silent and you feel yourself drifting off, sleep tugging at your consciousness, when you hear him whispering in the dark.

“Hey,” he says your name quietly. “You awake?”

You hum in response and reluctantly blink your eyes open. His face swims into view and you realize he's closer than before. Now only a few inches separate you from him.

“Sorry… um, I'm cold. Can… can I...?” He hesitates, leaving the question unfinished as his eyes search your face.

His breath ghosts your cheek and you freeze, trying to keep your breathing even as your body stiffens.

“Yeah,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, of course.”

A flash of relief fills his face before he moves even closer to you. He lays next to you, resting his head on your collarbone and draping one arm over your waist carefully. You hold your breath.

“Is this alright?” he mumbles.

You’re not sure if you can speak without sounding like a goddamn idiot, so you just nod in reply.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you have to remind yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just Felix being Felix: the most physically clingy person on Earth. Also your best friend who you definitely do not have untoward feelings for.

That would be really, really bad.

Especially in a situation like this, where Felix’s nose is pressed in your neck, and his arm is around your waist, his leg tangled with yours at some point and his hair is tickling your chin. He’s everywhere. It's entirely overwhelming.

And he's so warm. You didn't even realize you were cold until he pressed against you. Warmth seeps deep into your bones as he sighs and pulls your body further against his. It's cozy and familiar and you try to focus on the comfort of the action instead of the way your heart is hammering in your chest.

It’s quiet for a few moments as he settles against you and you try to relax, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to even out beside you, signaling he’s fallen asleep.

Instead, he shifts and you feel his lips brush against your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. Oh.

“Hey,” he murmurs in that low, low voice of his that only really comes out when he's sleepy. “Hey, I… um.” 

You can feel the vibrations from his voice against your neck as he speaks. Oh. You’ve definitely thought about this in a much different context before.

He’s silent for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. But he just sighs, pulling his head away slightly. “Nevermind… Um, good night.”

“Night,” you manage weakly.

It’s silent again. The only sounds that fill the room are the incessant beating of raindrops against the windows and Felix's soft breathing by your ear, drowning out the occasional faint rumble of thunder.

—

You wake to the sound of groaning.

Unsticking your eyelids, you attempt to get a look at your surroundings. It’s still dark, but the room slowly comes into focus as you blink slowly, trying to discern what woke you up. 

The first thing you notice is that it's warm. Hot, even. The air is thick and heavy in your lungs and there's a warm weight pressed against you.

It takes a few moments before you become aware of your current predicament — Right, you're at Felix's place, sleeping in his bed. His body is completely pressed against yours, his chest to your back, his head nuzzled in the nook of your neck. You’re practically spooning. There’s a leg thrown over yours and an arm wrapped snugly around your middle, making it virtually impossible to move.

And — it's not that unusual. It's not far off from the position you fell asleep in and Felix's clinginess is really quite endearing, even if your fragile heart can't handle it anymore. No, what's unusual are the sounds coming from him.

He’s making small noises as he fidgets against you, like he's in pain. He's probably having a bad dream. You start to turn over in order to wake him up, but his grip on you tightens and his breath hitches and—

You freeze.

That was definitely not the sound of someone having a nightmare. 

It was more like… like… Quiet, soft, and breathless; little sounds caught in his throat that spill into your ear.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, his body is moving — restless, shifting against you. His hips moving minutely. It takes your sleepy mind a second to put it all together.

Holy… Holy shit. Is he…?

You're suddenly very awake, fogginess replaced by a white hot rush of panic and disbelief.

He’s— Oh no.

Felix is asleep. He's definitely sleeping but— He must be… having some sort of… dream and… What the fuck are you supposed to do? Wake him up? Absolutely not. You literally— You'd rather die than face him like this. Not to mention how mortifying it would be for both of you. You would actually rather choose death.

He twitches slightly, his hips pushing up against your body. A low groan leaves him as he pulls you closer, completely against his body now, the thin material of his clothes doing nothing to hide his—

You squeeze your eyes shut. Oh my god you are going to die right now. You're seriously going to pass away for real this time. This— this is—

“Mmmn…” he moans, low and needy and right by your ear and wow, that’s… wow.

You have to be dreaming… this is just some very fucked up dream, the sane part of you implores. The rest of you is ignited in flames. 

It's not a dream.

Another little sound slips out and he presses even closer to you, his body flush against yours, like he’s trying to get as much contact as possible. His hips move against yours with a subtle roll and you feel shameful sparks of heat pooling in your gut.

This is so bad. This is so, so bad, fuck. Fuck.

He’s grinding against you in tiny movements, little gasps and moans escaping out of his mouth every few seconds and your entire body is burning. His arm is tight around your waist, his whole body pressed flush against your back. You don’t even dare to breathe as he rocks his hips forward ever so slightly, his nose nuzzling your neck as he lets out a soft whine. It takes everything you have to keep your own whimper at bay, suddenly desperate to grind back against him but— Christ. Are you insane?

You’re frozen. You’re not supposed to be here, you’re not supposed to be feeling this, you really should wake him up, this is so wrong, yet you’re still frozen like an idiot. You can't think. Your brain is made of cherry slushy. The heat death of the universe is imminent. 

Your mind is completely blank but your body is overstimulated and you’re just trying your best to figure out how not to die in this situation. Not easy when Felix is moaning into your neck and it sounds so good and he’s shifting and his body is impossibly warm and he’s—

His breath stutters abruptly in the midst of a long moan and he goes completely still around you. All you hear is heavy breathing for a few moments.

Shit, shit, shit. Is he awake? You're caught between relief and something like disappointment but aren't left enough time to dwell on that thought before you hear a shaky whispered, “F-Fuck.”

You hold your breath. 

Your heartbeat is ringing in your ears, body buzzing with tension, but you do your best to stay completely still. The air is so thick. You almost can’t believe what just happened, but the evidence is pressing into your back as Felix lets out another quiet swear.

His grip on you tenses for a moment before releasing you entirely. He untangles himself from you and pulls his body away from yours so suddenly that you nearly think you hallucinated the whole thing. 

His breathing is ragged and you don’t dare move a muscle. You keep your back resolutely facing him, try to relax, and you are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You repeat it like a mantra. 

You don’t know if he believes your act, your eyes pressed shut, as you try to keep your breaths even and slow.

The sheets rustle a bit. You stay motionless, heart pounding in your ears. He’s sitting up now, you can feel the weight shifting beside you. It’s completely silent for a few seconds before he whispers your name in question.

You are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You pray he believes it.

“...Thank god,” he breathes. You hear more rustling, sheets moving, and he's getting up.

Only when you hear the door shut do you allow yourself to breathe, wondering how the hell you made it out of that situation alive. What the fuck. 

Like, what the fuck.

You stare at the wall in shock, eyes wide and heart hammering hard in your chest.

He doesn’t know you were awake. You’re alive. You survived.

You bury your face in the pillow and try to collect yourself, shaking slightly in the aftermath of whatever the hell just happened. The heat of his body is still surrounding you, his presence lingering on your skin and you can’t help the traitorous part of your brain that wishes for him to crawl back into the bed and hold you again. That wishes you were brave enough to do something other than lie there.

You push the thought away with a quiet groan. You can’t think about that. You can’t. You're barely holding onto the last threads of your sanity as it is. 

But you can’t fall back asleep.

Of course you can’t. After what just happened, your brain will probably never be fully operational again. You press your hands to your face and let out a pathetic whine, wondering if it's possible to die of embarrassment. You're sure this is what a heart attack feels like. It's a wonder you're still breathing. 

This is so much worse than last time, when you got too into practicing. At least that was mutually agreed on and Felix made light of it pretty easily. But this? How are you supposed to act normal after this? That wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to know what it feels like to have his body up against yours, to hear him moaning in your ear. And you pretended to be asleep instead of stopping him. So he doesn't even know… It's so wrong on so many levels.

You sigh. Felix doesn't know you were awake, so he doesn't know you know and maybe, maybe you can get away with pretending it didn't happen. You'll have to play it cool, of course. Or even better, you can forget about this entirely, convince yourself it was all a fever dream.

Maybe.

—

a/n: AHHH. so it really wasnt meant to be a cliffhanger here lol but then i ended up splitting it so... sorry. the next (and final for REALL THIS TIME) part will be out very soon! nothing like the 3 month long wait for this (ty SO MUCH for ur patience) andd yeah! i hope this is at least somewhat living up to expectations so far, tysm for reading!!

[madschiavelique]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : after the mission, all you can think about is Miguel, up to the point where you can't sleep because of all your thoughts. so you go to the strength and conditioning centre to try and exhaust yourself. but miguel pays you a visit there, and the training takes another turn...

content warnings : mentions of blood, (if there are any others please do tell so i can add them !), reader is obsessed, no use of y/n word count : 3,9k

note : this is dedicated to the beautiful @gollygothgal , with tension and hot miguel hehe. here's the 2nd part of the miguel 3shot thingy ! i hope you'll enjoy it. i am currently thinking about opening up requests for miguel, so if anyone has got a juicy idea they'd like to see written, don't hesitate to send it !! <33

chapters' list : 1 - lovebite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission (nsfw) 4 - shameless (nsfw)

One punch.

He did it to help you, nothing more, there was nothing behind it, nothing unprofessional, nothing at all.

Two punches.

No, nothing, not even when you pulled on his hair and the moan in his throat vibrated into the bullet that was lodged in your flesh.

Three punches, the bag rocks.

Surely you're not the first person he's done this to, right? Dealing with this kind of wound in the middle of a mission must have been part of his daily routine after all.

Fourth punch, the impact spreads across the knuckles of your hand.

What if it wasn't? What if he'd deliberately decided to give you the special treatment of losing his time on the mission to take care of you?

Fifth blow, you were breathing hard. You stood back, your hands aching as they sponged your sweaty forehead with their backs.

It had only been a week since the last mission, and all you could think about was Miguel. Every five minutes the whole thing would start up in your head, sometimes so strongly that you felt it defined you. The spadassin of your logic kept chasing your imagination brazenly, it was trying to foam hollow ideas about him.

Was this scene really intimate? Or in your cruel lack of physical and sentimental affection had you simply imagined meanings for certain gestures that were pure delusion?

After the mission, while the anomalies were being properly stored, you went to the infirmary. There, you were asked questions that were still stuck in your head.

"What's that bite?" they asked about the two incisions Miguel had left in your skin, "and why is it all blue here? There's more ruptured blood than there should be..."

Apparently, the nurses had very rarely seen incisions of this kind on the bodies of other spider men or women, the only cases so far being on Miguel himself. The news had a strange effect on you. As for the clouds of bruises Miguel had left around the impact, the mere sight of them turned you into a red poppy.

So Miguel had never bitten anyone else on a mission to administer his painkiller... nope, let's not jump to conclusions!

Maybe gunshot wounds just weren't frequent on missions, haematomas or cuts were commonplace here.

After that, you were brought together with the others to report back. You hadn't been much help to the mission, apart from freeing Miguel from that foam. And after that? Too little contact and far too many thoughts.

The few times you saw Miguel, you only had time to say hello before he went about his business. The few words he'd say were "How's your wound?", and then he'd be off, busier than a minister.

And every day, as if you were watching the sky for a shooting star, you hoped. You hoped for a twinkle, a smile, just the possibility that your eyes might meet.

And every night, you would go over and over these tiny things that seemed gigantic in the eyes of your heart. And tonight, the same thing.

It was the hour when memories flood back, just when sleep goes on strike. You were trying to sleep, but you were tossing and turning, your mind replaying the whole scene like a power-point with multiple explanations attached to the images.

Just an focus, on the too pale clichés of a love story, on the state of mind of a woman without an alibi who dreams every night of a man whose existence you didn't even know existed until recently. Just a focus, for a little wink of survival, for all the fools, the love-sick, for all the victims of romanticism. Just a little wink, a focus.

You were tired of this perpetual propensity of your thoughts to redirect themselves to Miguel. There was nothing you could do, it was like trying to stop the sun from rising and setting. Because even with adamantine force, you can't stop the natural from happening.

You're more insignificant than the dust under his fingernails, you thought. Pull yourself together! Miguel has to look after a company of at least seven hundred people like you.

And it was true, Miguel had much better things to do than have anything other than a professional relationship with you.

You huffed and puffed in bed, sleep really not coming, so you put on your everyday clothes, prioritising comfort, and headed for the Strength and Conditioning centre.

If sleep didn't come, you'd wake it yourself. And so you found yourself boxing a sandbag. And honestly? It was harder than what you'd seen in the movies. Or at least, you felt some pain in your fingers as you punched, knowing full well that something was wrong, but not knowing what. The job of Spider Man wasn't new to you, but you had to admit that when it came to hand-to-hand combat, you missed some of the basics.

You glanced down at your hands, their knuckles reddened, and for a few seconds you remembered the ridiculously large size of Miguel's hand resting on your waist, then how it had felt when he had held your thigh in place, and you could have sworn that at that moment his claws had come out, sharper than a quarter of a strawberry.

If only it were possible for your mind to go on holiday, just to get away from the real Miguel City that had settled in your mind a little too quickly. You let out a grunt of frustration.

But your hair stood on end for a second - someone had just come into the room.

"What's wrong?"

You immediately turned your head towards the entrance, Miguel coming towards you. Your heart skipped a beat and you froze. For pity's sake, was this a dream?

The terrible thing about this mental affliction was that, although you visualised him more often than you should because you found that you spent less time with him, when the time came for you to interact as you would have dreamt of, the image of his red eyes went straight to the edge of your heart and you had the sudden feeling that you wanted to leave immediately.

If you come at any moment, I'll never know what time to dress my heart. Perhaps it was the extent of your desire that made you feel ashamed, and for fear that he would see it, hear it, feel it, you preferred to leave. But you stood your ground, giving yourself a mental slap in the face to pull yourself together as he came within a reasonable distance of you. There weren't enough moments with him, so you were going to make the most of them.

Your eyes widened slightly, because you'd never seen Miguel in normal clothes before. A hoodie with cut-off sleeves and loose jogging bottoms, simple and relaxed, but how could Miguel be relaxed? After all, he was Miguel.

He didn't look upset, which was a first. You were so used to seeing him frustrated, with that invariable weariness that accompanies him everywhere. On the other hand however, he was looking at you quizzically, and it was only then that you remembered that he had asked you a question.

"Oh, um," you said, resting the side of your fist on the bag, "I've never fought a war this tough, and to think that my enemy is just a sandbag," you smiled.

A sneer stretched his cheek, the thin crack between his lips letting a flash of light shine on his faintly glistening canines, and for a moment the image of them tracing your thigh came back to mind. It had left its mark on your mind, like a stain, and it won't wash off, no matter how hard you scrub your mind.

But a frown settled on his forehead, his eyes lowered to your fist.

"Hmm..." he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

You had to stop yourself squinting at them and keeping your eyes on his.

"Show me how you hit," he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Training with other spider-men and women was something you were comfortable with, the pressure was off, everyone learned a little from each other without judgement. But training in front of Miguel? The bar had been raised, the pressure of the stare oozing seriousness and criticism weighed on your shoulders.

Timidly then, you stepped away from the bag, and struck a blow with little confidence.

He nodded, the same retentive tt-tt being heard.

"Your fingers are in the wrong place," he raised his to show you, and as you mimicked his pose, he moved closer to you and took your hand to place your fingers correctly.

It was the first time you'd felt his hands naked against yours. They were far from soft, but they were warm, callused by time and effort. It seemed to you that he could lock your fist in his hand with ease, and the vision of his hands rearranging yours gave you the impression that every bit of skin he touched lit up and sparkled with little stars.

It must be that you couldn't mithridate your desires for him, your body and your thoughts returning to the charge to drink it all in, to take any crumb of his presence and his touch that you could get.

His annoyance seemed to return for a moment, his knuckles running over your reddened and cracked joints. He blew out a breath, and the frown disappeared.

"There, try it again", he said, barely moving away.

You came down from your little cloud and struck again. You were almost tempted to disturb your fingers again if it meant he'd put them back into place.

"Keep going," he said, taking a step forward and starting to circle around you.

You swallowed, continuing the task, taking great care not to look too ridiculous. You punched a few more times, Miguel having made an arc and stopped on your other side.

"Your posture is not right," he remarked, and you shivered as his hand came to rest on your waist.

Sliding gently over your belly, applying a minimum of force to better guide you to perfect your posture. You felt his hand come up and pull slightly on your shoulder, putting your arm back in a more favourable position at the same time.

"You need to find a balance in your body when you strike; if you put everything you have into your fist, the rest can be used too easily against you" he said, his tone calm.

But it was a little too complicated to follow his instructions now, especially when you felt his breath landing on your ear and the back of your neck. Every brush of his fingers and skin against yours made your cheeks flush and gave you a real peony look.

His other hand came to rest on your hip, on that famous protruding angle of the pelvic bone, to reorientate your body. You inhaled sharply, but tried not to make it too noticeable. All that was missing was...

"Is everything all right? Your heart rate seems to have increased."

... the same question as last time. This time, there's no way to pretend you're worried about your team-mates who are on a mission. So what's the excuse this time?

"I ate a cereal bar before I came here, must be the sugar, no doubt."

Wow. Beautiful. Brilliant. Fantastic.

You crossed your fingers that Miguel didn't pay any more attention.

"Hm," he exhaled, "just spread your legs a little... there you go, like that," he said as his hand lingered lightly on your waist before moving away from you again. "Show me," he asked, confident that his modifications to your position would prove useful in your training.

Already more confident, you began to strike again. And after half a dozen blows, you turned to him, a satisfied smile adoring his face.

"Much better," he said. He raised his hand to the level of his head, index and middle fingers together, wiggling them, indicating for you to move forward as he stepped back slightly, "Now, show me how you'd do it in real life."

Wait, was he really offering you combat training? The great Miguel O'Hara, who had no time but for the great multi-dimensional organisation of spider-men and spider-women, had just offered you training?

Hesitantly, you moved forward.

"So you want me to fight? With... you?" you asked.

"Who else," he replied, opening his arms to encompass the room, completely empty apart from you two.

"I'm going to get crushed," you smiled as you reached him.

"I'll do my worst," he offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?"

"No, otherwise I'd let you destroy your hands on the bag a bit more," he said, pointing at them, "you'll have to remember to put some ice on it.

Touché.

You felt a little guilty for taking up his free time, he who must have had so little leisure, so few opportunities to settle down without having to worry about anything. But at the same time, what did you have to feel guilty about, when it was he himself who had offered to help you? After all, it was he who had come to you. Was it simple pity then? No, let's not think about personal sabotage, let's just enjoy it.

"Come on, show me how you do it, I'll do it with one hand behind my back if you prefer." He says, not even pretending to get into a fighting stance.

"What an egalitarian spirit," you say, your voice coming out with a half-sigh, half-laugh.

Coming from one of the most capable and experienced Spider-Men in the society, how could you not shudder at the thought of fighting him?

So you positioned yourself, trying as best you could to put in place the investments he had just taught you. The thought of disappointing him was gnawing at the back of your mind.

Once you found your position sufficiently adequate, you dived towards him. With a move that seemed as simple as that, he dodged by leaning to the side while placing his foot against your ankle, so you fell pitifully to the ground.

Well, it wasn't going to be any fun after all.

"Remember what I told you," he said, coming towards you, holding out his hand, "if you put everything you have in your fist, the rest can be used against you too easily.

You looked at him for a moment, his brown eyes slightly crinkled by his little smile. Your cheeks warmed as you took his hand to stand up.

"Do it again," he said.

You breathed in, trying to concentrate and not think about the fact that you'd had more physical and vocal interaction with the object of all your thoughts in the last few minutes than you'd had in a week.

So you tried to balance your strength in your body, and came back to the charge, but you tried a surprise. You knew he'd probably see it coming a mile away, but why not try? So you gave him the impression that you were attacking him from your left, when at the last moment you deflected to the right.

And then you punched him in the cheek. The impact surprised you both, and Miguel took a meagre step backwards, bringing his hand to his cheek with eyes wide with surprise.

"Shit shit shit! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" you moved towards him in a panic, as if to check him out.

You'd just punched Miguel O'Hara in the cheek. But then, just as you were expecting to be shouted at and slammed into a wall in the next few seconds, he smiled, and the smile became a soft laugh.

You looked at him, completely stunned by his reaction. No anger, no exasperation, no threats or insults in Spanish, just a little laugh.

"That's much better," he said. "Don't worry, I can handle punches, but I recognize this is a correct hit."

You fluttered your eyelashes a few times in surprise before just puffing out your nose, a little laugh taking hold of you as well.

"Come on, let's get on with it" he said, this time getting into a fighting stance. He sweated authority, while you sweated... period.

You nodded in agreement, and the two of you began a battle of successive dodges and punches that went wide. He was holding back, you could feel it. He didn't strike a single blow, just tiny smacks with the back of his hand. So you thought for a moment, you were going to surprise him like he had surprised you with his kick. Could you take down a man the size and width of a fridge? Doubtful, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

It's as if, in the middle of the nettles, you'd found a patch of grass where you could put your foot down without stinging yourself. So you placed your leg correctly behind his knee, which surprisingly succeeded in throwing him off balance, and just as he was about to fall with a small stranglehold of his voice, his hand grabbed your wrist and dragged you down.

The shock was less, because you had fallen onto Miguel himself and his body had been used as a landing mattress. Out of breath, and not exactly aware of the situation you were in, you placed your hands on the ground on either side of his body to at least straighten yours and not crush him, your back bent like a wilting flower.

"Hey, is everything all right?"

Miguel grunted slightly, his eyelids reopening. Your breath caught in your throat as you realised the position you were in, and especially how close you were. Your faces only a few centimetres apart, your breaths colliding.

"Mhm," he said simply, "you did well, I must admit."

And as the simple feeling of victory took your heart by storm, Miguel grabbed you by the waist with both hands and rolled you onto your side, reversing your positions with lightning speed.

"But you're going to have to keep practising," he smirked, one of his hands separating from your waist to rest on the ground next to your head.

And your strength turned to water. Your gaze scanned his, and you wished you could see your own eyes just to know how much they betrayed you, especially when they inevitably drifted to his lips. You didn't need to lie to yourself, you wanted to, they looked so soft... It was the sensation of his thumb making a single, simple circular movement on your stomach that brought you out of your reverie on his lips, regaining his eyes.

"Distracted?" he asked, his eyes a little darker than before.

Sure enough, you had metamorphosed into a big red tomato. So your reflex was to bring both hands up to your face to hide it.

"Uh huh," Miguel prevented, removing his hand from your waist to move your hands away from your face, getting even closer. "What's there to hide, hum?"

His eyes seemed very observant of what was being said in yours, and you wondered if he could see all the emotions rumbling in your heart. You could feel the strands of his hair tickling your forehead and cheeks. The tension was so heavy and pervasive that you could have cut it with a knife.

"My desires," you whispered as an answer, clearing your throat and moistening your lips, your eyes moving tirelessly from his to his lips.

You gasp, the closeness between the two of you acting as a veritable truth serum.

"Tell me about them," he murmured.

You bit the inside of your lip, breathing softly. The inner battle was powerful. To remain silent and regret, or to say something and hope? What if it all stopped? What if it bothered him so much that he couldn't look at you any other way than uncomfortable? And what if... what if... And if I don't try anything, I'll never know.

"A... A kiss," you managed to say.

"A kiss?" he repeated, as if testing the taste of that word in his mouth. "Tell me, where."

You squirmed slightly, perhaps you'd be more successful in speaking your thoughts with your eyes closed? But when you shut them for a moment, you felt his nose brush against yours, his thumb on your hip again making circular movements.

"Where?" he asked again, both of you reduced to whispers. Still hearing no answer, he moved to kiss your forehead, "there?", but you shook your head. Then he kissed the top of your eyelid, "there?", and went on to kiss your cheek, "there?", his voice barely a whisper.

He brushed against your nose again, his lips barely grazing the corner of yours.

His eyes had a tender sparkle as he kissed them tenderly. His lips tasted of wood and rain, pulling back : "There?”

"Yes," you sighed, your eyelids half-closed, "there". You moistened your lips.

"I think I heard you wrong," he murmured. "Say it again."

You swallowed, trying to raise your head to kiss him again, but understanding your tactics, he buried his face closer to your neck, his lips brushing your ear.

"Say it again."

A shiver ran through you as his breath spread a wave of heat down your neck, straightening slightly to face you again.

"Kiss me, again."

And he came to kiss you once more, softly, dark and silent as the night. His hand ran down your body, up your side and over your back to push a little more of your body against his. Your hands came to rest on his cheek and back, your fingers snaking through his hair, nails lightly grazing his skull.

A moan bubbling up his throat reverberated on your lips, just like on the mission.

" If only you wouldn't make me want you..." he whispered between kisses, his mouth growing a little hungrier as his fangs nibbled lightly at the skin of your lip.

He came to kiss your jaw, your neck, drinking in your skin, breaths of ease escaping from your lips.

But suddenly, a small cluster of orange pixels appeared not far from your heads.

"Miguel we got a- oh hi there!" said Layla in a tone that was a mixture of playfulness and surprise.

You immediately turned your head to the side to avoid her, your cheeks flushing red. Your heart was pounding in your chest like a bird trying to get out of its cage.

"Go away Layla," he said though, his hand coming to take your chin, his eyes half closed, kissing you again.

"But Miguel it's-"

"It's very important for your future that you don't finish your sentence," Miguel growled as he moved from your mouth to your throat again, letting his canines lightly trace along your pulse line.

"And the situation is just as important for all our futures," Layla insisted.

Miguel grunted, sighing, and murmured softly:

"I'm sorry."

You kissed his cheek and he raised his eyebrows.

"It's okay."

He kissed your lips quickly.

"This is not over," he warned, sitting up and helping you to your feet. "Go and sleep now." Looking at your hand in his, he added: "And take care of this," pointing to your knuckles.

You nodded as he began to walk away.

"Oh yeah, Miguel has been keeping an eye on you!" said Layla, a small smile wrinkling her nose.

"What?" you asked, confused.

"Layla ?" Miguel called dangerously.

"Okay okay gotta go, goodnight!" she said, vanishing into thin air to come and stand next to Miguel.

The two of them left the room, and you looked at the exit.

What had just happened?

next part >> unexpected mission (nsfw)

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Tell Me You Like It

20/12: Sharing a Drink & Toys - modern!Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.7k~ | Warnings: use of toys, p in v sex, overstim, choking, pussy slapping

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Hands clasped with elbows rested on the table, she fiddles with the clasp of her watch on her left hand, her body tight with nerves. 

The restaurant has a warm aura, with amber lighting decorating each table and windows that stretch across the width of the area. Being winter, it’s dark outside already, but with the amount of bodies and the remnants of steam that come into the space when the kitchen door opens, it’s pleasantly warm where she sits. 

Mumbling, quiet chatter surrounds her as she sits alone at her table, waiting for Aemond to return from the bathroom before the starters arrive. 

She raises her head as Aemond slides back into his seat, an involuntary smile making its way to her face as her eyes rake over him, wearing a black button down with a few at the top undone and the way the sleeves cling to his biceps never fails to make her smile. As usual, his hair is up and out of his face, looking shockingly casual compared to the way he’s dressed for their date.

She blushes when he gives her that signature smirk, one hand stuffed into his pocket.

“Aemond”, she warns teasingly before she jolts so hard in her seat she nearly loses grip on her champagne glass. She presses her lips together to keep quiet, briefly looking around to see if anyone is watching as the vibrating egg inside her begins on its lowest setting. 

She opens her eyes to see Aemond’s smug expression that doesn’t waver with the pointed one she gives him.

“What’s wrong, baby? You look…flustered”, he grins, switching it back off, concealing the remote inside the pocket his hand is currently shoved into.

Fucking bastard.

He’d suggested this as well, having bought the item to spice things up in public. 

But now she realises it was just another way for him, 1. To entertain himself and 2. To watch her fall apart in a different, forbidden way.

But before she can reprimand him, the waiter drops by with their starters. She puts on a polite smile, side-eyeing Aemond across the table as he continues to smirk. Hell, even the waiter, as he refills their champagne, seems to feel the tension between them both. And therefore leaves shortly afterwards. 

He doesn't activate the vibrator throughout the next course, mercifully. The silence filled with idle chatter between the two of them.

“Got a new client this week”, he mentions idly as she wraps some pasta around her fork.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s got unrealistic expectations of course, and wants us to go on a business trip-.”

She raises her head, swallowing whatever was in her mouth, “She?” 

Aemond all but smirks, as if he’d got the reaction he’d wanted.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she tuts, “If you’re trying to make me jealous, it won’t work.”

“Hm,” he chuckles lowly, stabbing at his food, “why would I be trying to make you jealous?”

“Because you’re a di-ah! Aemond!” she whisper-shouts, not realising he’s reached into his pocket again, the vibrating sensation between her legs has a warmth descending there from her gut, and she can feel herself moistening after hours and hours of teasing the device on and off.

She pressed her mouth closed when she realised she perhaps moaned a little too loudly, some of the other patrons sitting around them even turned their heads.

Once the vibrating stopped, she threw yet another glare at Aemond, “Because, you’re a dick.”

“A dick you love.”

She cocks her head, “Hm.”

It was pure divine intervention when the waiter finally came to clear away their plates. 

“Dessert?” Aemond asked with a honey-like tone, one eyebrow raised mischievously as he ramped up the vibrator yet again, enjoying the way you moved your hips to alleviate the sensation.

Seven fucking Hells, I am going to kill this man.

Every moment was sweet torture.

The taxi home. The short walk up to his house. And he hadn’t stopped fucking smirking the entire way.

The front door closed, and within a millisecond, a loud thud has her back pressed against the door, Aemond’s lips and tongue prying hers open with his large hands running up and down her body, gripping tightly where he wants to devour her the most.

“I wonder…how wet you are…after teasing you all night, hm?”

She gasps against his lips as his hand dips beneath her dress, near-ripping the lacy underwear she’d worn that evening aside to swipe two digits over her sopping folds, revelling in the tiny, soft whimper she lets out at finally being touched.

“Fuck - baby. Just begging for it, aren’t you?”

“Aemond, please-” she begs, hand clenching around the fabric gathered at his chest, grinding her hips down against his fingers, “-need you.”

“Need what? Say it.”

The way he says that makes her want to jump on him then and there.

“Need you to fuck me-” she huffs out almost annoyed, trying to hook her leg around his hip.

He’s tempted to reach into his pocket, tease her more, and see how pathetic he can get her. But she’s so fucking wet, he doesn’t think he can even wait for that, proven by how hard he’s been ever since they both sat down for dinner. She whines pleasantly as his lips ghost over her neck, the tender, sensitive skin in open-mouthed kisses.

“Well, when you say it like that.” he muses hotly.

She squeals in surprise when he lifts her, using his knee to push the bedroom door open and dropping her onto his bed, her body bouncing briefly before she looks up to find him crawling on top of her, with that look in his eye.

The look when she knew she was in trouble.

He pulls off her underwear with ease, tossing them aside before diving between her thighs again, “Relax, baby…”

She shudders as he gently pulls the vibrating egg free, embarrassment creeping up her neck when she feels just how wet she really is after his incessant teasing.

“Fucking hell - such a slut-” he punctuates the word with a harsh, wet slap to her core, smirking at the way she visibly jolts, a moan slipping past her lips.

His other hand naturally hugs her throat, tugging her hedonistic gaze up to him while he massages her bud slowly with the aid of her slick, “look at you - such a greedy girl-”

She hears the clinking of metal as Aemond pulls his belt through the loops of his smart trousers, the whipping sound for some reason making excitement run hot through her veins. Aemond doesn't take any clothes off, other than pushing whatever is in the way past his hips to pull his hard and weeping length from his boxers, stroking himself slowly.

Nor is he particularly bothered about undressing her either. It appears she's not the only one that's been pent up.

She smiles a bit at that, his hand still snug around her neck.

“Don't know what you're smiling for-”

His expression goes all cold. And she's about to reply when her lips part in a breathy moan as Aemond sheathes himself inside her, slowly splitting her on his length until he reaches the fleshy end of her, tipping his head back at the feeling of her warmth squeezing him so tightly.

It feels utterly erotic to fuck like this with all your clothes still on, but that's the furthest thing from either of their minds right now as Aemond starts, at first, a slow and gently pace. He looks down between them, jaw slack, enamoured with the way his cock is glazed with her essence every time he pulls out of her to push back in, her fleshy insides moulding around him.

“fuck - baby, you're making such a mess on me-” 

With the intensity of his thrusts, the pressure his hand applies around her neck is somewhat tighter in a way that has her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

So much so she almost doesn't notice as he reaches into the bedside table.

“You're much too quiet.”

Her eyes practically fly open as Aemond uses his body to widen her legs slightly,  smirking as he presses his body into her, and yet another vibration is heard. But louder and more rapid.

That's nothing compared to the sensation when he presses the wand to her clit, the two sensations making it all borderline unbearable.

“Ah - fuck, Aemond-”

She realises now that she's a mess, clutching the sheets, her face and neck all hot and a soft sheen of sweat over her body. Aemond's hips smack against her bare thighs, increasing in vigour, his cock effortlessly finding that sensitive spot inside her with her legs slightly elevated.

That combined with the way he holds the wand to her, makes her stomach clench, an orgasm creeping up on her frighteningly fast.

“Aemond - oh gods-”

He chuckles darkly, “fuck, love it when you're all desperate for me. You gonna cum for me, hm?”

All she can do is nod quickly, not trusting her words with Aemond fucking her so relentlessly into the mattress, forming the shape of him inside her.

He doesn't stop as she wets his cock with her release, her thighs shaking around him and fingers cramping as she fists the sheets. And with every blow to her sweet spot as her peak rolls through her, it's agonising in the sweetest way possible.

“That's it…”

A tight, hot feeling grips her when she cracks her tired eyes open, the force of her orgasm after hours of torture just being all too much, and sees that Aemond has lost no momentum.

He looks so good like this, head tipped back, lips parted, fucking her into oblivion.

And yet, the overwhelming buzz to her oversensitive clit and the moist smack of his cock being buried into her, brings her back to earth, with wanton, exhausted moans.

“Aemond-”

She can tell he's out of breath as he raises his gaze to her, smiling with his cheeks pink.

“Give me another one.”

“But-”

“I said, give me another one.”

With a harsh press of the vibrator to her clit, she sobs in pleasure, feeling weightless, knowing that she will give him as many as he wants, until he's done with her.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[sserpente]

What makes a Loki a Loki?

Synopsis: Every time the TVA annihilates a timeline in order to “fix” the universe, Variants get left behind. Variants who then get taken to the TVA to be either brainwashed or pruned, deleted from existence. But not you. Not those who fight back. As part of a rebellion against the ruthless time police, you live a life on the run, a life as a nomad, dedicating yourselves to one goal: To destroy the TVA just like it intends to destroy you. Nothing could have prepared you for the God of Mischief himself to interfere with those plans. So what happens when he finds out that in order to protect yourself, you pretended to be a Loki yourself?

A/N: *tiptoes in quietly, gently puts the oneshot on your dashboard, tiptoes out again* This should have been posted weeks ago. I’m so sorry. I was in a writing slump and then I neglected it altogether because I was playing Baldur’s Gate 3 literally non-stop. Also threw in a request from @jazziefeybaby as it fit really well here, you’ll see! ;) SO, WHO IS EXCITED FOR SEASON 2 BECAUSE I AM!

Words: 4421 Warnings: semi-public smut

You skittered around the corner into a narrow alley. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Barbed wire, right in front of you. You didn’t slow down and took a deep breath instead. As soon as you were close enough, you jumped, pushing yourself off the brick wall with one foot to grab the very top of the wire. Pain rippled through your palm, a sticky wetness almost making you lose your grip but you pushed through and pulled yourself up.

With a lot more grace than you would have expected from yourself, you landed and kept on running. The man who was chasing you looked familiar but, being more concerned with your survival, you hadn’t taken the luxury of studying his face. He seemed more skilled, faster than the others.

You’d still outrun him. You knew these streets well enough to find your way about blindly. And that was exactly the reason why you came to a halt with a start, surprised and shocked to find the man chasing you appear right in front of you. Your eyes widened. For just a split second, you allowed yourself to take in his features.

Long black hair, a sharp jawline and cheekbones to die for, thin lips, and piercing blue eyes… there was no doubt. You had seen this man before. But it couldn’t be…

You turned on your heel, ready to bolt in the opposite direction when you saw the strange man charge toward you yet again. An illusion. The man who had appeared in front of you was an illusion…

“Nice try, you fucker…” you muttered. You turned yet again, running off. It wasn’t until you saw the illusion flicker and solidify that you realised your mistake. A groan escaped your lips when you collided with a hard chest, all air knocked from your body. The recoil threw you off balance and you tumbled to the hard asphalt, hurting your already bleeding palms further. They were burning like hell, adding to your anger. He had teleported. That fucker had teleported.

You glared at the questionable TVA agent, ripping off the black mask covering your face from the nose down. He had you. For now, it was game over. “Who the hell are you?”

The stranger’s lips parted, a frown growing on his face. He was about to speak up when you were joined by another TVA agent with grey hair and a moustache. He slowed down, out of breath entirely.

“Well done, Loki.” Loki. “T-take her,” he continued then, waving at the Minutemen in their silly armour. You growled when they grabbed you by the collar and pulled you back on your feet, fastening one of those ridiculous time displacement collars around you.

They had to drag you through the time door they opened all the while Loki kept on watching you in silence… and, if you were not mistaken, fascination.

“Take her to the interrogation rooms, I’ll be right with you,” the TVA agent with the moustache announced. Loki led the way and the Minutemen holding on to your arms to keep you in check retreated. You would have called them fools if you hadn’t witnessed a live demonstration of Loki’s powers only a moment ago. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

“Sit,” he said upon entering the room, pointing to a table with three chairs—one on one side, the other two on the opposite side. You rolled your eyes. The only reason you did as you were told, so you told yourself, was because your feet were tired from all the running, and thus made a point of it by crossing your arms before your chest.

“If you think I’m going to tell you anything at all, you’re a fool.”

Loki scoffed. “We’ll see about that,” he said, narrowing his blue eyes at you. “Let’s start with something easy. What’s your name? You already know mine by now. I am Loki, of Asgard.”

It was truly one of him then. You would have laughed out loud if it wasn’t for your fucked-up situation. So you told him your name coldly. A nickname, no last name. He didn’t deserve that information yet.

“Look, the more you resist, the harder you are going to make this for yourself. I know from personal experience. They can be quite brutal.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why we’ve been running from them.  And yet…” You smiled at him mockingly. “Here you are, right among them, wearing a TVA uniform.”

“Desperate circumstance,” was all he replied. “It’s complicated.”

It was on you to scoff this time.

“I understand that your group has been wanted by the TVA for a while now. Why? Who are you? Why are they hunting you down?” He stared at you for a few moments. It was like a game at this point. Who would blink first?

“Shit, you really don’t know, do you? They didn’t tell you a thing. Shouldn’t surprise me.”

Loki leaned back. “Tell me.”

“You’re serious,” you spat. “They recruited you to chase us and you don’t even know of the crimes we’ve allegedly committed?”

The God of Mischief remained silent. You had him—for now.

“So? What is a Loki Variant doing working with the TVA of all horrible corporations then? What desperate circumstances prompted you to team up with the enemy?”

“Mobius is not an enemy.”

You shrugged. “He is to me.”

The God of Mischief appeared to think about it for a moment. It was like he was contemplating whether you were telling the truth. Just before you could offer him another snarky remark, however, the TVA agent in question entered the room, breaking the intense eye contact between the two of you for just a fraction of a second.

He sat down as if this was a casual business meeting, fixing his tie in the process. “Any luck yet?”

“Define luck,” Loki said without taking his eyes off of you.

“Well… Loki has probably told you by now but I’m Agent Mobius. And listen, let me make one thing clear. You don’t wanna get on Loki’s bad side.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“Maybe. It could be. Or you could just tell us what you know.”

“And then die anyway? Or turn into a brainless TVA agent like you? No. I’d rather keep my dignity and my pride before I kick the bucket.”

Mobius sighed. “Who is your leader?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“How many of you are there?”

“More than one, clearly.”

You smirked all the while Loki kept glaring at you as if he was trying to figure you out. Which he probably was.

“You’re not going to leave this place either way. But if you cooperate now, then I can make sure to make this more comfortable for you, alright?”

“What? So you won’t wipe my memory, perhaps? Hire me like a puppet? Like him?” You nodded at Loki with your chin. “I’d rather die a slow and painful death.”

Much to your surprise though, Mobius smirked with a start. “Does she remind you of someone?”

Loki did not take his eyes off of you for a second. “Yes. Indeed she does.”

“You don’t think she could be…”

“One of me? Doubtfully. She has no powers or if she does, she was very good at hiding them.”

You frowned, overwhelmed by sudden hot flush. There was no way he could guess that…  “Powers? What are you on about?”

“Who are they, exactly? This group she belongs to,” Loki asked, ignoring you entirely.

“We call them time breakers. Rebels whose only purpose is to kill—us.”

You scoffed. “Wow, you really believe that, don’t you?”

“Oh, were you not trying to kill me back there?”

“I was. And I would try again. But not for the whitewashed reason you believe I would.”

Mobius sighed. “We understand that there is a small group of you here in Manhattan. Why don’t you tell us where your friends are? We could… help.”

“No,” you said dryly, crossing your arms before your chest again.

Mobius sighed once more. “Okay, you know what, let’s continue this tomorrow. See if you’re more approachable after a good night’s sleep. Then you can get patched up too,” he said, pointing at your injured hands.

“Hardly. Hope is a tedious thing.”

The TVA agent ignored your comment. “Thanks for your help today, Loki. Will you take her to the cells? Just in case she tries something.”

You rolled your eyes and stood, too proud to be dragged about again. Right before you could make your way to the door, however, Loki grabbed your arm. “There is something else.”

“What?”

“You looked at me like you recognised me.”

“I did not,” you said quickly. “Clearly I did not.”

You could only hope that the God of Lies himself would fall for your words, for he could not know under any circumstances that this man, the infamous leader of the time breakers… was a Loki too.

Loki led you to the cells without a word. One of the Minutemen guarding it opened one of them for you to step in, seemingly used to agents bringing in new prisoners without asking questions. But unlike what you expected, Loki entered the cell with you.

“Comfy,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “But I actually have a bed. Perhaps I’ll like it here after all.”

“We’re alone now. You recognised me. Don’t deny it.” Damn it.

You rolled your eyes, anxiety rippling through you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.”

You scoffed. “Do you wanna know why they’re really hunting us, Loki?”

He waited for you to continue. “It’s because they fucked up. You know how they destroy entire timelines, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, some of us didn’t take kindly to being… annihilated, to be wiped from existence. One of us… one of us was the first, he got away and he came for others, taking them under his wing and building an army with but one goal—to bring down everything the TVA stands for. I’m what they call a Variant, Loki. I’m just trying to survive. And if that means that I have to destroy those who aim to destroy me, I will. You of all people should know.”

“Me?”

You scoffed once more. “You’re a Variant too, aren’t you? It’s as clear as daylight.” You knew he was, so the question was a rhetorical one. He looked just like him, only this Loki… this Loki right before you, he seemed… softer. Gentler. He was just as handsome of course and yet… there was something about him that attracted you to the point it scared you.

“So there you have it. You captured me for a death sentence—but you already know that. They’re never gonna let me go. According to them, I shouldn’t exist. And I’d rather live a life on the run rather than become a mindless soldier like the others. Like you,” you spat. You’d attempted to despise him in the interrogation room. You just… couldn’t.

Loki swallowed. He studied you quietly for a moment and sat down on the edge of the small desk in the cell.

“I’m just like you,” you repeated. “You should be joining me, us, instead of working with them.”

“You don’t know Mobius like I know him. He is not a bad person.”

“Oh yeah?”

“No. He is not what you think he is.” His blue eyes darkened, yours widening when he stepped closer to you.

“Don’t you think we both know how corrupt the TVA is? I understand. I understand your pain and I understand your anger. You don’t have a home. Mobius and I, we can give you one. Not here at the TVA, not as an agent. But in order for us to do that, you have to tell us what you know. Some Variants, they are… dangerous. That Variant who leads you...”

You gnashed your teeth, meeting his piercing gaze. Perhaps that was your mistake. You swallowed.

Loki’s face fell. “He’s a Loki…”

“What?”

“He’s a Loki, is he not?”

You tightened your jaw, remaining silent.

“So that is why you recognised me.”

Oh, fuck it. “Well, unlike you, he truly is a saviour, Loki.”

You didn’t know what to expect from him after that. But certainly not that he would sigh, turn around… and leave the cell, leaving you behind pondering over what the hell had just happened.

He knew. Not just about you following another Loki but also… the effect that he had on you. Both of them. Mobius had kept his so-called promise. You were not going anywhere. Day in and out, they asked you more questions you refused to answer and even started taking you out on the field with them in the hopes you’d sooner or later provide useful information to them. You were on edge, constantly.

The more time you spent with him, the more Loki made you feel things you’d never thought possible. He might have figured out that he was not the first Variant you were dealing with—but he had still not yet found out how you had managed to survive that well.

It was an accomplishment you were rather proud of. The double deception had you reel with excitement and even superiority, for they were desperate for your secrets. Desperate. That’s what they truly were. Both Mobius, Loki, and the entire TVA were reaching for straws at this point. They needed all the help they could get—perhaps that was why you were still alive. Perhaps that was why they hadn’t turned you into a mindless agent. Or perhaps Loki had convinced them to keep you just the way you were.

You had seen the way he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice. There was a silent admiration in his blue gaze whenever you caught him, along with an urge you hadn’t quite been able to place until you started spending more time together. It was desire. Carnal desire. And whatever connection there was between you, he was giving in to it.

It became a game all too soon. The subtle looks, the dancing around one another—wondering, preying on who would cave first. Sex was not off the table, you had realised that much. Neither of you needed to speak the word to agree that this was inevitably what your odd relationship would lead to. It was a circumstance Mobius had not failed to notice.

“I digress… is there something you want from me?” The man Mobius had managed to track down wasn’t quite part of your group. In fact, he’d tried to kill you before he had realised who you were, or rather… who you had pretended to be.

You kept in the background, quiet and observing, ensuring the slimy git wouldn’t catch a glimpse of your face. You didn’t even know his name.

“You’re hiding something,” Loki whispered with a start.

You flinched. His breath was a little too close for your liking. He enjoyed doing that, so you’d realised. Creeping up on you, catching you off guard like he was a predator and you were his prey.

“No shit?”

“I’m not talking about the Time Breakers. You know this man. Who is he?”

Frowning, you took a step back only to collide with a pillar. Damn it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Instead of responding, Loki nudged you forward—and right into view of the git as you lost your balance and tumbled a little.

“You? Shit, they’re with you? I’m… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I apologise.”

“He’s afraid of you,” Loki stated with wonder in his voice.

You rolled your eyes. “What? Is that so unbelievable?”

“Actually, yes.”

“You don’t mess with a Loki,” the git responded for you.

You gnashed your teeth in response when Loki narrowed his eyes at him. Lucky for you, however, he appeared to think the git was referring to him rather than you.

“I’m sorry… a what?” His confused expression almost made you laugh but then again, the situation was rather sinister. “I‘m a Loki. I am Loki. Not her.”

Mobius clocked it first; and you were overcome with the overwhelming urge of wanting to wipe the shit-eating grin from his face fast.

“Ask her,” he said.

“Ask her what?”

“Ask her how she survived this long. Ask her why she has the respect of her leader.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. His blue gaze travelled over to you as if to silently pass on the question.

When you didn’t say anything, Mobius chuckled. “She’s pretending to be you, Loki. She’s pretending to be a Variant. That’s why Marcus here is so terrified.”

“Oh, Marcus? That’s what the slimy git is called?” Changing the topic did not work in your favour. Loki did not let it go.

“Thanks,” Marcus murmured.

Loki, on the other hand, remained unfazed. “You were pretending to be me?”

“Not you. One of you. A goddess of Mischief. It worked quite well for some time. It was his idea, actually.”

“So you were hiding this under my nose this entire time?” Loki smirked—certainly not the reaction you had expected from him. You’d assumed he’d lash out or feel deeply offended or perhaps both. Instead, you sensed pride.

“You’re taking this a lot calmer than I assumed you would.”

His smirk grew even wider—eerily so, almost. “I am flattered, darling.”

“You’re what now?”

“Well, I must say, it’s quite an impressive disguise. Tell me, did you wear something more flattering whenever you pretended to be me?”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Lokis have style, dear. Dressed like this I might have a hard time believing you.” Your heart skipped a beat when he winked. The way your body reacted pissed you off enough to growl.

“Are we done here? You got what you came for. The git doesn’t know anything else.”

“Wait! I know something. I know where her leader is currently hiding.” Marcus pointed at you.

“I can assure you, you do not,” you interrupted, crossing your arms before your chest.

“The docks, head to the docks! There’s a warehouse there, and it comes with a basement. There’s a hatch to the left of the south entrance. That’s where you’ll find him.”

You wished that Loki wasn’t as perceptive as he was when he noticed you stiffening—and perhaps, that was all both he and Mobius needed to know to confirm the git was telling the truth.

You stormed out before either of them could comment. You had to go back. You had to warn him. The Loki you were with now, you hated to admit that you trusted him. Hel, you even trusted Mobius now—but their cause? You didn’t trust that. Nothing good would come out of confronting the very Loki Variant who had helped keep you alive all this time… right? You owed him that.

You could swear that you heard Loki sigh when you took off, almost as if he didn’t take your attempt to escape seriously. You scoffed at the thought. He’d tricked you once before, he wouldn’t easily be able to pull the same maneuver on you again.

You left the main street fast, diving into a narrower side alley dimly lit by the street lanterns. It was getting dark out—that would make it easier for you to blend in with the shadows. Rapidly moving shadows, too.

Loki was right behind you. Even without turning around, you could practically feel him. His energy, his… his magic?

You gasped when you tripped over something seemingly invisible only to find a horned shadow gliding across the brick wall to your left. It was his shadow. He was making his shadow attack you. Before you were able to react, it wrapped its arm around your waist, ramming you against the wall. You hissed in pain.

“What the fuck!”

Pressed against the bricks, the invisible grip around your neck tightened immediately.

“I don’t think so, dear,” Loki purred. Annoyingly enough, he wasn’t even slightly out of breath. He narrowed his eyes at you as he approached you without a care in the world, the tension between you tripling. You struggled against the invisible bonds, unable to budge an inch. Within the twinkling of an eye, he was right in front of you, his hands replacing the shadowy shackles.

He was almost… surprised when he felt it too. Almost as if the constant banter, the unintentional flirting, and all those longing glances would not have led to this very outcome. And then, you could see it in his blue eyes, he realised that he’d won this game of seduction the two of you had been playing without ever setting the rules.

To hel with the other Loki. To hel with the git, to hel with Mobius, wherever he was. Loki was consuming you. Perhaps he already had a very long time ago when you had taken up on your leader’s advice and pretended to be a Variant yourself to keep yourself safe.

His kiss caught you off guard nonetheless, igniting you from the inside out. You moaned into his mouth, all of the bottled-up desire for this man unleashed at once. It felt like you were meant to be kissing, like you were supposed to become his all along.

Loki was met with no objection when he slid his slim fingers under your shirt, swayed by his own longing for you. You only pulled away when he lifted the skirt the TVA had given you to wear, his thumbs hooking under the hem of your knickers.

“You’re not going to fuck me in public!” you hissed, your resistance bleeding away more with every passing moment.

“Such vulgar language… did they truly believe you were a Loki with this mouth?”

“Oh, fuck off!”

Instead, he kissed you once more, pressing you against the wall even further until you gasped for air. That was it—the moment you were done for, taken in by his dominance and submitting, much to your dismay, willingly.

You jumped, wrapping your arms around his middle and holding on all the while he all but yanked the belt off of his TVA trousers, pushing them down just far enough to reveal the growing bulge between his legs. He’d kept his Asgardian underwear—but for now, it was in the way. The moan that escaped your lips the moment you finally felt his hard cock against your pussy lips to test your wetness was unholy if anything.

You had to press your face against his neck to stop yourself from crying out when he sheathed himself inside of you with but one swift thrust. Loki’s groans were heavenly—you could tell it took him every fibre of his being to not lose his composure even though right now… that was all you wanted. For him to fuck you like he meant it.

You threw your head back when he withdrew only to rut back into you, finding a rhythm that had your eyes roll to the back of your head. You didn’t have much time for this, of course. You weren’t keen on getting caught, especially not by Mobius.

And gods, he was screwing you good… working out that tension between you with every single stroke. It felt so right you could burst as you clung to him, inviting him even deeper both physically and mentally. Right now, in this very moment, you were his—and you were rather certain that he was yours. Where you’d go from there, you did not know but that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was his warm dick sliding in and out of you, making you see stars—and doubling the frustration when he slowed down with a start.

“Why are you… stopping?”

“It’s been a while…” He smirked against your lips.

“Don’t hold back on my account. You’re a prince—I expect you know how to make it worthwhile for your partners.”

Loki growled in response and you knew then and there that he’d accepted your challenge. He ground against you, circling his hips, hitting pleasure spots hidden deep inside of you. He riled you up further and further, almost possessed by the idea of giving you pleasure before he took his own.

Your back was hurting at this point, the rough wall against your skin close to drawing blood. You didn’t care. You wanted more. More of him.

The God of Mischief picked up his speed again, burying his face in your neck now and inhaling your scent deeply—his little grunts had you dig your fingernails into his TVA jacket, and fuck, you never wanted this moment to end.

Faster and faster, Loki brought you closer to shattering into a million pieces. How the hell that was possible, you had no idea—the man had not even touched your clit, and yet, you were about to… gods, you were about to…

You cried out his name when you came, clenching around his cock repeatedly. Your toes curled as you milked him for all he was worth, triggering his own release fast.

With one final stroke, he buried himself inside of you as deep as he could before coating the inside of your pussy with his seed, his member jerking against your walls. And then—silence. Comfortable, relaxing silence.

You whimpered at the loss of him when he withdrew, set you back on the ground, and took a step back, his magic ensuring to make you both look presentable again.

“Thanks. Well, I certainly feel better now…” you muttered.

Loki smirked. “So do I. Well then. Shall we?” He offered you his arm, presumably to take you back to Mobius.

“You’re not…” Panting, you caught your breath for a moment. “You’re not really going to side with the TVA for this, are you?”

Loki sighed. “No. But I won’t let you destroy the TVA either. As much as I hate to say it, we need them—as strategic allies, if anything.”

“Spoken like a true king, huh?”

The God of Mischief narrowed his eyes a little, smirking down at you. “I wonder what else you have learned about me through this other… Loki.”

“More than you think.” You paused. “What about Mobius?”

“Mobius I trust with my life, pet.” Pet. Oh, for Heaven’s sake… “Don’t you worry.”

You wouldn’t. Not about this anyway. For now, you’d worry about not falling in love with him.

A/N: And sceeene! Keep an eye on my socials, will you? I’ll be seeing the first 2 episodes of Season 2 at the BFI on the 5th and I’ll be doing the TVA Experience on the 7th! I’m so hyped! I simply must share it with you all! Also if you’re in London and you see me there… COME SAY HI!

[clownprincehoeshi]

The one where Joshua catches you touching yourself

Summary: Might be the heat of the summer nights or the stress. All you know is you can't sleep and then your hot boyfriend is sleeping next to you, looking so sexy. You just can't help it.

Pairing: idol/boyfriend Joshua x fem reader

Genre: Smut, just smut

Warnings: sex, penetration, fingering, choking, creampie

Minors don't interract!!!

Word count: 1644

Note: Joshua's been messing with my head lately, wreking me real hard. I had a fic about him in mind for some time, so here it is.

Being awake at 3 AM on a Tuesday night was not in your plans. It will be difficult to fall asleep tonight and you knew you’ll have a shitty day at the office in the morning.

But here you are, laying on your right side, head on the warm pillow, hands under it, sweat covering your forehead.

You let out a deep sigh as you watch your boyfriend’s face, so beautiful and peaceful. A smile creeps up your lips and you wonder if he’s dreaming about you, as he lets out a tiny moan in his sleep.

Oh, those pretty plump lips should be kissed over and over, you think, and sigh again.

It’s so fucking hot tonight, and the AC has been broken for days. Right in the middle of June…insanity.

You shuffle on the bed annoyed and lay on your back. The room never felt this quiet before, yet you feel like 1000 thoughts are running through your mind.

Must be the heat, you think. What else?

You look towards the tall windows on your left and notice it’s a full moon. Oh, this must be it. Some people say they can’t sleep well when it’s a full moon. Right, it must be it.

You turn your face to your right to look at Joshua again. You envy the way he fell asleep right away and how he looks like he has no worry in the world right now.

But you know better. He has been really stressed lately, with work. What he hasn’t been lately, tough, it’s under you. Or on top of you. Or anywhere near you. Naked.

You gave him some space, knowing how demanding his schedule is around the comebacks. You avoid being a distraction to him.

But still, you wonder why he hasn’t made any move on you in 2 weeks. Must be this damn heat. Fuck this heat!

You whine a little as an image lingers in your mind. With Joshua thrusting into you, deep and hard. From that time when he got back from the world tour.

Things got really crazy that night. Ohhh, fuck this heat! I wish…

And you start to push your thighs together, unknowingly. Feeling light headed. Maybe you need some cold water or even a cold shower. Maybe that will help with the sleep thing.

 But lying here in bed feels so good. It’s cozy, even though these stupid sheets are warm.

You look at Josh again, wishing you would cuddle him right now, pressing your naked body into his, touching him, kissing his neck..

He loves being woken up to affection from you, and a lot of times to sex.

But you won’t do that now, he’s just to tired, the poor baby. He needs his sleep.

But he looks so hot right now. Naked torso, sweat glistening on his pretty neck and on his chest. Those sexy hands laying on his abs.

Ahhh, those abs. He’s just so annoying, isn’t he? I mean, what for? Joshua Hong, you sexy sexy man, driving me crazy like this.

I’m just a woman. A horny woman that hasn’t been touched for 2 weeks. Laying next to her incredibly hot boyfriend.

Without noticing, your right hand was under your panties, rubbing lazily over your clit. Your left hand, squeezing and pulling on the sheet beside you.

A breathy moan slips your lips as you imagine it’s Joshua’s hand that’s working on your pussy.

But his hands does a much better job. So strong and soft at the same time. When he touches you, you lose yourself.

You know you’re a mess inside your panties, you can feel them getting wet under you. Must be from the heat also.

Now you’re starting to get dizzy, starting to whisper his name slowly, afraid he might hear. You’d be embarrassed if he catches you like this, messy, needy, whimpering and weak.

But would it be that bad if he catches you? He might punish you for it. He might slap your clit, then choke you and push his cock into your wet cunt.

Still, you can’t stop now, not when it feels so good. When you can finally make your thought fall silent inside your head.

Now it’s like some white noise that makes you float on a cloud.

“Ahhh, Shuaaa….mmmm”

You keep a steady and slow rhythm and you know it’s getting close. That wave of pleasure that you so much crave.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

You feel like going crazy now, hearing his voice in your head. The heat is to blame. But you need to keep going. One hand rubbing at your clit and the other slipping one finger into your needy pussy.

Then movement on your right side, a hot breath on your neck and pressure over your throat.

Your eyes fly wide open, your hands stopping all movement, leaving you empty and dizzy.

You’d move your face toward him, but you can’t. His hand grips your throat pretty tight. He knows it’s what makes you weak.

“Tell me”

“J-Jooshh mmnnnmm”

He’s come next to you, his body flushed to yours. You can feel so much heat radiating from him, and can feel the sweat on his skin.

“Why did you stop, baby? Looked and sounded like you were feeling reaaaal good”

“Y-yeah, it did”

“Then keep going. Let me see you, don’t hold back”

He still doesn’t let you to look at him. He’s afraid that he might lose his mind if he’ll see those pretty big eyes, filled with lust and love for him, looking into his.

He always loses it when you look at him like that, all needy and glassy eyes, close to crying for him. Crying for his cock.

And he always ends up giving you everything you want, because you’re so fucking adorable and he won’t say no to you.

But right now, he needs to keep his cool. He really wants to watch you touch yourself and hear your sweet moans.

Your hands are moving slowly and shily. One rubbing your clit and the other working inside you.

You know your face is flushed red right now and you’re dying inside, feeling so shy. You never did this before in front of someone.

His mouth starts to move gently over your skin. Barely touching your shoulders, your neck, ear, jawline.

Stopping over your neck, his lips push into your skin, sucking on a spot, marking you.

Moans louder and needier coming from your mouth. His hips rut into your hip, letting you feel how hard he is.

“That’s it, baby. Keep going, don’t stop. Let me hear you”

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. You’ve wanted this for so long, wanted him.

“Shuaaa, I need you”

Then his mouth flies to your nipples, attacking them over your sleeping shirt and your back arches involuntarily.

“Oh god, Shuaa”

His eyes are locked onto your face only. He loves to see every little grimace you make when you feel pleasure.

Biting the side of your shirt, he lifts it up with his mouth, leaving you bare under him, chest going up and down like crazy from what he’s doing to you.

Mouth all over your breasts, licking and kissing every little part. Finaly getting to those hardener nipples he loves to suck and he’s going at them.

Your moans are getting more intense, sensing your orgasm is getting closer.

Now he needs to decide if he’ll keep on teasing you and if he’ll give up and give you what you want.

He really wants to feel your little wet cunt wrapped around his cock. He’s been thinking about it for weeks. He needs to have you now, or his head will implode.

So it was easy. He got his body on top of yours, his right hand still rough around your neck. Used his other hand to rip off your panties, making you gasp.

His knees pushed your legs apart, lowering himself into you. Grabbed his shorts and pulled them down, pushing them somewhere on the bed.

Your whole body was aching from need. You needed him, needed to feel him inside, ruining you.

Your hips started moving on their own, trying to find something to grind on.

When he lowered his face close to yours, his lips catch yours into a heated kiss. He manages to whisper some filthy words while grinding his hardened cock on your pussy, feeling how fucking wet you were for him.

“Is this what you want?”

Only small whimpers could be heard from you. He didn’t need words, he knew you very well.

A sudden push of his hips made you catch your breath, as you felt his cock enter you. He did it slow, oh so slow.

Both could barely keep up with the kissing, as the feeling was too much. You knew you were finished, you won’t last even one minute.

And by the way he was reacting, he will probably cum fast too. But that was all you needed.

“Pussy so tight and soo fucking good for me”

“Fuck me, Shua. Give it to me deep”

That made him push faster into you, hitting that spot so deliciously, making you cum on his cock.

Your body trembling from the pleasure he was giving you.

That only made him spill into you. Ropes of cum, pumping inside your tight cunt that was squeezing him.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy. I love you so fucking much”

You were too fucked up to speak, so you pulled him into a sweet kiss and you hold him tight into your arms, your legs around his hips.

“I love this. When we are just like this, having you inside me after you filled me with your cum”

“Trust me, I would sleep like this all night if we could”

Thank you for reading! I think I'll be writing short stories like this more often. It's pretty difficult right now to be able to write a long fic, and the mafia one will probably take some time.

[jennaaswife]

*Sigh* Wednesday is trending again, which means that the kiddos out there are gonna start drama again. Please just stop; this is one of the reason why the show was called cringe a year ago and people left the fandom.

1- You have the right to ship Wyler et Wavier. This is your opinion, your preference and I respect it. So why, mainly Wavier shippers, are suddenly back at attacking Wenclair shippers for no reason at all on Tumblr, Twitter and basically every single social media? What are you, 12? Is this hard to respect people's opinions???

2- Stop shipping Jenna and Emma. I'm almost certain this is the reason why we can't tag Emma on Instagram anymore. Ever since the Chappell Roan videos got out, a lot of people have made weird comments saying that they kissed or that they were on a date. Just stop. Stop shipping real people, or do it but silently. All of this is making them very uncomfortable and it's just direspectful to assume things like that. We just got them back, don't make Jenna delete Instagram again and make Emma disappear from it once again.

This just needed to be said. Just be respectful, it's not that fucking hard, goddamit. And when I mean respectful, I mean towards the fans AND the actors. Don't make Wednesday cringe again. Stop being kids and attacking other fans for absolutely no reason because you can't accept the fact that they don't ship your ship. And stop using the fucking Wenclair hashtag to say trash about them, this is getting annoying.

This is also addressed to, like me, Wenclair shippers. You should respect Wyler and Wavier shippers as well; don't give the bad example. Everyone is free to ship the characters they want, and this without any drama or violence. Just be kind to each others, it's not that hard.

Thank you for reading this. If you disagree, then just shut the fuck up because I don't have time to lose arguing with immature people on social media. I'm writing this as a reminder to respect Jenna and Emma and the fans, that's all. Y'all seriously needed a reminder.

Also, don't make Tumblr toxic. I already left Instagram and Twitter because people in here are the most toxic ever, I always loved Tumblr because people were nice, but for a week mad Wavier shippers started posting and insulting which is extremely annoying. Oh, and I also had to turn off my anonymous asks because I got very weird questions from probably bots. Don't make this app bad too, it's basically the only good one left with Pinterest.

I suppose that's all. Goodnight. And don't fucking come at me for saying this, because everything I said in here is true and I am just trying to remind people to be nice, not cause any more drama. If you say something mean here, you will be blocked immediately because, as I said, I don't have time to lose arguing with kids who can't respect an opinion.

Goodnight 🤍☮️

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : Pomefiore [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Pomefiore vs. Neige Leblanche Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Pomefiore Version (Part 2)

ie. The scarf is an issue, because of course it's an issue. And Vil's sudden addiction to his phone is not going well for any of you.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

“What did you do?” Epel hissed from behind an entire department store’s worth of facial products.

“What?! I didn’t do anything!” you argued. Trying to sound stern when you were also putting a concerted effort into not moving your mouth was apparently very hard. A lip mask, Vil had called it. ‘Pretentious goop’ was a far better description. But the Pomefiore House Warden had been particularly dour lately, so you’d been letting him slather you will all kinds of atrocities in the name of keeping the peace. You’d smelled like a walking Bath & Body Works for the past week at least. And worst of all, if you ever made that comparison out loud he’d probably hemorrhage. Or something. Because each of these products was ‘special ordered’ or ‘hand crafted’ and blablabla.

“Well pardon me for not takin’ your word for it,” the purple-haired boy snapped, spiteful. “He only gets like this when someone’s hurt his stupid ego. Or worse—his feelings.”

“And why does that ‘someone’ have to be me?” you complained.

Epel shot you a look and you sighed into the misty air. The aroma diffuser gave another lackluster puff, as if in agreement.

.

.

Ever since your shopping trip, Vil had been acting… not quite right.  

Oh, he was still icy and composed. He still tutted at your untucked uniform shirts and irritably plucked stray bits of fuzz from your jacket. But it was almost like he was too much of himself. You’d liked to think that your laid back ‘you’re lovely no matter what and I live in a literal condemned building so who am I to judge anyone’ approach had softened the House Warden at one point—even if only a smidgen. A singular hair out of place was artful, not lazy. The barely-there wrinkle in his vest was not the end of civilized times, but functional fashion. But now? It was back to the strictest of regiments, the most unforgiving of rules.

Jack had told you that Vil was even waking before him now—that by the time the wolf-beastman arrived for their early morning jogs, the blonde had clearly already been up and training for hours.

And you were worried.

Sometimes Vil would look at his phone and get this twisted up, venomous, expression on his face that sent little pangs of concern eating through your gut. Sometimes Rook was there to reach forward and gently ease the device out of Vil’s death grip. Sometimes he was not, and you were far too afraid of losing your fingers to even try.

It was a vicious cycle. The phone would make Vil angry and subsequently be abandoned in the opposite corner of the room. So then Vil would bury himself in new makeups, and outfits, and skin care. He would fret over new projects, or old projects—ranting about the incompetence of whoever he would ‘never work with again, believe me.’ Sometimes he dragged you along to his Film Club (you’d watched so many classic movies with him at this point that you were actually starting to become culturally literate). And then—slowly but inevitably—his brilliant, purple, gaze would drift to the expensive rectangle sitting all alone off to the side, wherever he’d carefully and strategically placed it to be just out of reach. Gradually his fingers would start to twitch, and then his jaw. He’d drum his nails against his knee, or irritably tap the pointed heel of his shoe against the floor. And then the phone would be back in his hands and he’d be looking at something that sent him spiraling all the way back to the beginning again.

“I don’t know what to do,” you confided in Rook one afternoon. You hadn’t seen him yet, but a bush off to your left had jiggled suspiciously at one point, so you assumed that he was probably somewhere in the vicinity.

After a moment, the hunter came and perched himself at your side.

“Do you know what’s bothering him?” you asked. Rook seemed to know everything about everyone, and Vil was his muse, his Roi de Poison. He had to have noticed something by now.

The blonde nodded, the feather in his hat bobbing as he did.

“...You’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?” you huffed, not even attempting to bite back your irritation.  

Rook patted your shoulder sympathetically. “It is not my tale to tell, Mon Coeur. There are some things that I am told in confidence, and I cannot break that trust. Though I am sure he would greatly appreciate your concern.”

“Or you could just tell me,” you tried. “And then I wouldn’t have to be concerned at all.”

He tilted his hat at you, and then danced back easily when you tried to snatch it off his head.

.

.

“So, what’s the dealio,” Ace drawled, and he’d better thank his lucky stars that you didn’t startle quite as easily as you used to, because there was entire, opened, jar of Werecat urine in your hands that was just dying to wind up upended all down his white lab coat.

“What deal?” you snipped, carefully recapping the stinky ingredient and setting it off to the side. Tempting as the idea of dousing the redhead in supernatural piss was, Crewel would skin you for wasting components.  

“You spend a lot of time at Pomefiore,” Deuce added, much politer in his approach than Ace had been. “And lately their House Warden has been a bit…”

“Why has Captain Pissy-And-Perfect been so pissy?” Ace interrupted, leaning far too close over your cauldron to be any kind of safe. “Normally the only thing that twists him up that bad is Neige.”

Your mind whirled back to the incident at the mall. And as controlled as you liked to think you were about these sorts of things, your face must have done something because Ace pounced on you like Ruggie after a donut.

“What do you know?” he demanded, nearly spilling a whole bottle of Newt Eyes across the floor as he crowded into your personal space. “Tell me, tell me, tell me—"

“All I did was give Neige a scarf!” you snapped. “It’s not like it’s a big deal!”

“What scarf?” Deuce blinked back, confused.

“It was just some scarf that Vil put on me!”

The two of them made long, pointed, eye contact, and you immediately felt horribly out of the loop.

“Whelp. That tracks,” Ace sighed, just as Crewel popped up behind him to whip him across the back of his head with his pointer.

.

.

Your group of mangy idiots had gathered in the cafeteria for lunch—as was the ancient tradition of all starving students. The four of you had clustered around your usual table. Ace was busy squirting ketchup packets all over what would inevitably become Deuce’s seat when he finally got of the line. Jack was busy swishing said ketchup away with an irritated scowl. Epel sat across from you, as miserable and lemon scented as ever.

A lunch tray smacked the tabletop with an echoing bang and Deuce appeared behind it, frantically waved his cellphone in your faces.

“You guys have to watch this,” he said, deathly serious, before propping his phone up against your glass of water. It flopped forward with a resounding crack three times before he managed to get it to stay upright.

The five of you crouched around the teeny screen as the poppy chords of some Talk Show intro or other filtered through the tinny speakers.

“You know,” the interviewer beamed, all manicured sugar and over-bleached smiles. “With some of the things you’ve been posting lately, some people are saying that you’ve just got to be in love!”

The audience ooohed and aaaahed.

Neige Leblanche was sitting on the little leather sofa beside her, and he smiled in a way lit his entire face in a brilliant shade of pink. He was still wearing that goddamn purple scarf and immediately you could feel your temples pulsing with a migraine. This was going to be bad.

“Well,” he mumbled, bashful. “I can’t say you’re entirely wrong about that.”

Cue hordes of nearly rabid screaming. Ace winced and reached forward to tick down the volume.

“Why are we watching this?” Jack scowled, but he didn’t move his sharp glare from the illuminated screen.

“The Prefect gave Neige a scarf, and—”

“Shh,” Deuce hushed. “This is the bad part.”

“It’s a little bit silly,” Neige continued, glancing up at the host from beneath his dark lashes. “I don’t actually know their name. But we met a few weeks ago now and they were just—well they were amazing. They actually helped pull me out of a pretty sticky situation, and they were so composed through all of it! And then they didn’t even care about me being famous at all!” he rambled, getting brighter and brighter the longer he monologued. “They just helped me because I was a person, and, well, I think that’s very sweet.”

There was another wave of darling ‘awwws’ that could only have been scripted. Or, at least you hoped so. This level of saccharine infatuation should have been enough to turn anyone’s stomach. It had certainly twisted yours into all sorts of unpleasant knots. The secondhand embarrassment alone was on the verge of taking you out entirely.

“A little birdy’s been telling us that the scarf you’ve been modelling in all your latest Magicam posts was actually a gift from this secret lover of yours,” the interviewer whispered conspiratorially, and you wanted nothing more than to snatch that stupid purple cashmere back through the screen solely so that you could strangle her with it.

“Well, yes, actually,” Neige chirped, fingers reaching up to toy with the soft fabric.

“No it wasn’t!” you howled, indignant. “I just put it on him to distract him because I accidentally rambled to his face about how much more fuckable Vil was than him, and—”

“WHAT?!” Epel screeched. Screeched. At the top of his lungs. It felt like you could feel the glares of every single set of eyes in the cafeteria drilling into your spine. Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a feather bob as it disappeared through the door, and you didn’t even want to think of the implications of that.

“No fucking way,” Ace gaped, looking for all the world like you’d just handed him a million Thaumarks, or an entire notebook’s worth of nuclear codes. Deuce and Jack both just looked like they were trying not to choke to death.

“Oh my God,” you wailed. “I did it again.”

.

.

When you next ran into the King of Poisons, you were so distracted by the impossible task of wrangling Ace into silence that you couldn’t have noticed the subtle changes in him even if you’d wanted to. The increased length in his stride, the gentler tuck of his hair, the less severe line of his shoulders—if you weren’t so caught up in trying to commit homicide, you would have been ecstatic.

Rook was chattering along at his side, his lips quirked into a merry grin. The tack-tack-tack of Vil’s crimson heels against the stone floors was familiar, confident, and loud enough to swim through your head despite Ace’s manic cackling.

“Potato.” Vil’s red lips quirked upwards into the smallest smile before twitching back down into a sneer. “And other potato. What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Thankfully, at the end of the day, Ace was still nothing if not a no-good coward. He turned on the Pomefiore House Warden, ready to spill your deepest, darkest, secrets, and immediately withered under the third year’s spiteful glower.

“H-House Warden!” he squeaked. “I was just—Ahem. The Prefect was just—just saying that—”

“Go on,” Vil prompted, tongue dripping with all kinds of venom. “It must be riveting if it’s managed to stun you so thoroughly. Or maybe that’s just the extent of your comprehensive abilities as it is.”

Ace gulped. Audibly.

“Perhaps I should report your dallying to Riddle,” Vil continued, and that was when Ace really started to look panicked. “Remind me—your House Warden is known for his lenient stance on punishing rule breakers, is he not?”

The redhead darted off with one final squeak, practically wheeling around a corner in his haste to escape.

“Well?” Vil barked, and it took you a second to realize that he was addressing you now, and not that he was just going to continually roast Ace into an early grave. “Are you coming?”

“Where?” you asked, confused.

Vil rolled his eyes and reached out to grab your hand. “To Film Club. You promised to help pick out the new backdrop color schemes. Or is the forgetfulness of that horrible, spudling, friend of yours wearing off on you now too?”

You had promised Vil so many things in the last few weeks that you honestly probably wouldn’t even have remembered if you’d offered to sell him your soul, so looking through page after page of tone combinations that all looked absolutely identical to you but whatever was probably the best you could hope for.

More importantly, he seemed… better. Less stiff, certainly. You wondered idly what could have happened in the span of a few hours to mend his mood so thoroughly. If it had been Neige related all along, then probably some slight against the dude, right? Maybe something had popped up online? Industry drama, or whatever. Or maybe—

‘Because I accidentally rambled to his face about how much more fuckable Vil was than him, and—'

You froze, like a deer about to mowed down by a semi. Vil’s grip on your hand was the only thing that kept you from immediately faceplanting into the ground.

But, no. No one aside from your immediate entourage could have heard you say that! It wasn’t possible! It—It wasn’t—

Amidst your sudden wave of mortification, you caught Rook’s mischievous green, gaze, with your own. The feather on his hat bobbed playfully, mockingly, and he winked.

.

TAG LIST (CLOSED AS OF 12/10)

21.3.76

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[pinkaditty]

How will the TWST characters react to you having to leave? (Pt 1)

summary: Crowley had finally lived up to his promise. You were going to go home. All he needed was around a month to get the mirror set up for your return. Your eventual departure made each of the TWST boys turn into a ticking time bomb.

a/n: okay. so. i watched a tiktok today on my fyp. and i was inspired. i wrote this in hours and grappled with whether or not i should post it bc... well, i have a lot of requests piled up...! but, in the end i decided, why not? its my blog and ill do what i want with it. not to worry though, i am still working on your asks, i promise. i won't post part two of this (even though it's already written) until i've done at least 2 more asks, so no worries! i do see your requests, and i am working on them!

cw: creepy behavior (kinda), drugging, manipulation, and angst. i think that's all!! mc is mentioned but has no pronouns nor physical attributes mentioned.

minors... are actually allowed to interact with this post specifically. i don't mind it this time. NOT THE REST OF MY BLOG THOUGH. MINORS THAT INTERACT WITH MY NSFW POSTS WILL BE BLOCKED. thanks!

HEARTSLABYUL:

Ace:

He really has a hard time with it. Like, a really, really hard time. Once news reaches him, he almost can’t handle it. The anxiety that the thoughts of your departure cause will eat him alive. It will eventually get so bad that it prevents him from living in the moment, or enjoying his time around you. He falls into a depression, losing motivation to go on, keep living, or keep having fun. The wind has been taken from his sails. His grades slip as the weeks pass, but he can’t be bothered to care. He won’t show up anywhere unless it’s where you are. Despite his inability to enjoy anything anymore, he still spends time with you because, somewhere in him, he hopes you will be too attached to leave. He won’t do anything to damage, destroy, or hide the mirror, but when it comes down to it, he will plead with you not to leave right in front of the mirror on the day you are to go. He will also look the other way, should it end up mysteriously disappearing or broken. He refuses to be the culprit, but he will do everything in his power to make you stay, so long as it’s within the rules. Even begging. Please don’t go. You’re not all he has, but you’re all he wants. Please don’t leave him. 

Deuce: 

Recognizes the importance of family and knows what it’s like to disappoint them or be separated from them. He doesn’t want that for you. But at the same time, he considers you family. The real question is whether he will put himself and his feelings for you first, or if he’ll put you and your feelings first. He grapples with this a lot. He’s not selfish, and has no desire to be, but he found himself wanting to be selfish with you. He wants to keep you around, at least for a little while longer. A month is not enough. Whenever he passes by the summoning room, and sees that dreaded mirror, a rage awakens in him. The urge to return to his old ways burns within him, and for a moment, he can see himself punching the mirror, shattering it to pieces, forever ruining the chance you have to return home. But then he imagines the despair you will feel, and he is left with an empty hole in his heart. Should that mirror end up missing or broken, he will do everything he can to help fix it or find it. He knows he must let you go, and he will, but he will not be happy about it. He will clench his fists and mumble goodbye and try to act like it is all right. It is not. It is not alright. 

Riddle: 

He also recognizes the importance of family, but to a lesser degree. Rather values friendship and found family more, which is what spurs his desire to keep you around. You were a part of his found family, the one he desires to keep. Sure, he had to get used to having you around, but you had grown on him a lot. Far more than he wished to admit. His heart breaks at the news. What was he going to do? He’s uptight. Can’t bring himself to break nor bend the rules, so he won’t. Instead he puts on a mask and slightly distances himself. He acts pleased for you, happy that you have a way to return home, at last. The thought of sabotaging you doesn’t even cross his mind, but should he find out you have been, he will help you. He knows what is best. Come the dreaded day, when he watches you walk away, his heart will crumble. He will spill enough tears to create a river. He will not beg you to stay. He will not convince you. He will not do anything to prevent you from going. But he will cling to the sleeves of his ceremonial robes and bawl quietly. Why did his found family have to leave him all over again?

Trey:

His heart just sort of… sinks. It doesn’t hit him immediately, the despair of you leaving, but it approaches. When he finds himself baking sweets, and thinks of you, it hits him. When he finds himself scoring well in class, and thinks of you, it hits him. When he’s hanging in the Heartslabyul common room, and thinks of you, it hits him. It hits him over and over and over again until he can’t do a single thing without somehow connecting it to you and thinking about your eventual departure. He starts to spiral internally, despite usually keeping a cool head. Just the thought of you leaving will have him grip his pen so hard it snaps, pouring far too much sugar into his sweets and staring down at the ruined mixture, staring up at the ceiling of his dorm at night wondering how time continues to pass. He’s so far gone, so out of it, yet no one else seems to notice because they’re all so wrapped up in their own heads. He won’t beg, he won’t cry, he won’t plead, he won’t break anything, so long as it’s someone else breaking the mirror. But if you leave, the blood may rush to his head and he may find himself fainting, the shock of it all finally reaching him. Is this what loss is? What it feels like?

Cater:

No. Oh god, no. Immediately his spiral starts. He already knew he shouldn’t have become attached to you, knowing that you would have to leave. But the longer you stayed, the more he opened up to you. And the more he opened up to you, the more he liked you. You were Ramshackle dorm’s Prefect, or more like “perfect” if you asked him. There was something so fitting about you to him, and having someone leave all over again… At this point, he should be used to it. But he’s not. He never will be. He knew opening up was a bad idea, he knew indulging himself in this friendship would lead to nothing but despair, he knew, he knew, he knew. The guilt and anger at betraying himself and the building feelings he harbored for you eat him alive at night, and haunt him during the day. However, should that mirror end up broken, he won’t exactly do anything about it. If it doesn’t break, of course, he puts on a brave face, acts like everything’s normal, but he’s so far in his own head he doesn’t even realize how clingy and attached he’s become. He will act normal to the end, even wave a final goodbye as you leave, and will return to Heartslabyul like nothing’s happened. When he’s alone, the tears come. He cries harder than he’s ever cried before. Everything’s back to normal, but now he realizes he never wants normal ever again. Every day, he misses your chaos. Why can’t you come back to him? You were perfect, not normal.

SAVANACLAW:

Leona:

To hell with rules. This herbivore may not have been his favorite at first, but it’s not quite like he can imagine a life without them now. Instead of fear or sadness, he feels anger and entitlement. He should be getting what he wants. He’s a prince, for seven’s sakes. He may not be any type of inherent heir, but he had his rights, and the way he saw it, that also gave him the ability to do whatever he pleased. It’s not like you even spoke about your past a lot anyway, or the world you came from. It didn’t matter more than him and his need to have you nearby. Nothing mattered more than that. He soon hatches a plan to try and destroy that mirror; either through breaking it with his fists or turning it to sand, he would do it, and he wouldn’t care if you knew it was him. As long as you were here, by his side. If all else fails, he will prevent you from even approaching that mirror. He won’t kidnap you, he’s not crazy, but he might just block your way or try to convince you to reconsider. If you remain hard-set, he may become angry, but the more stubborn you are, the more the despair will finally grip him. He may even break down and beg, hoping that the humility of a prince will force you to feel guilt and regret. He could never have cared for an herbivore this much, but it was you. He can’t let you go. And if you really do leave, he won’t sleep at all for weeks.

Ruggie:

Will 100% act nonchalant about it, but on the inside he’s freaking out. He immediately goes into hyperdrive, and will do anything and everything to get you off his mind. He studies until his mind melts, stays after classes for extra tutoring, idles in the cafeteria, hangs out with friends, and whatever else he can possibly think of doing that means he gets to avoid you and the thought of you leaving. May even go as far as starving himself so he can think of food and water instead of you. Of course, this all fails because no matter how much he denies you, he still sees you. He still knows you’re around. He caves at long last when he cannot ignore your presence any longer. He goes to see you all the time, to make up for time lost. Every minute he can spare, he’s with you. Doesn’t think of breaking the mirror, but won’t stop Leona if he tries. He’ll look the other way, because just as badly as you may want to go home… he wants you to be here with them. If you do end up leaving, his heart will be empty as he watches you go. He won’t so much as hug you, but wave a weak goodbye and wish you well. He crumples in the time that follows and is a hollow shell of who he once was. It could’ve been different. You could’ve stayed.

Jack:

He’s an upstanding character. He has a moral compass and knows what is best. He is also stubborn and hard to sway. That said, every single day of the month that leads up to your departure, he finds himself standing in front of that mirror for some time, contemplating. He could break it. Technically, he could. He could just punch it and no one would be able to pin it directly on him, at least not immediately. That way, you would be here. You would have to stay. It may not be the best outcome for you, but he could be a shoulder to rely on. However, he shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts and ends up scampering away from the mirror, lest his thoughts get the best of him. Every time he lays down in bed, he tries to resist it, but then he finds he can’t sleep. So he creeps around to the summoning room, looks that mirror head on, and battles with himself. In the end, he does not break it. He has a hard time not doing it, but in the end, he knows what’s best. He will inevitably run into someone attempting to sabotage you, but he will be far too caught up deciding what to do to stop them. He will inevitably fail to stop a sabotage, but the guilt will claw at him, and he will do all he can do to help. Should you go, he will feel happy that you are returning home, but squeeze you very tight for a little longer than usual. The tears will come when he is alone, contemplating on that mirror, staring at his fists and imagining if they were bloody and stuck with glass. What would have changed?

OCTAVINELLE: 

Azul:

Is as cool as ever externally, but freaking out internally. He tries to play it off to himself as being concerned about outstanding debts, or bemoaning about less free labor, or even worrying about what will happen to Ramshackle if he can’t get his hands on it when no one but Grim resides in it? Oh, the horror…! Or, so he tries to say. In reality, he actually can’t stand to see you go. Sure, it hadn’t been very long, but you’d been through quite a lot together, and you had become quite reliable. It was nice having someone he could depend on, trust in, and enjoy one another’s company without the looming threat of becoming disinteresting, like Jade and Floyd. He’d actually come to like you. Perhaps more than that. Before long, he stops moping and starts thinking of ways to get you to stay. He even enlists Jade and Floyd’s help, fully aware they already have their own tactics in mind. He doesn’t care what works, he just hopes something will. He scribbles up contracts, some that would be appealing to you, and give you more benefits than him, but in small fine print reads: “Upon signing this contract, the signer agrees to remain in Twisted Wonderland for as long as the contractor sees fit.” He makes so many that you feel guilty turning him down. It gets to the point where he is begging and pleading with you not to go through that mirror. Not to leave them all behind. If it all fails, he collapses as he watches you go. He returns to his office and rips those contracts to shreds. It was all for naught. All for naught. For the first time in his life, he feels as though he’s drowning.

Jade:

Oh, he cannot let this happen. He cannot simply let you leave. Not when he’s grown so fond of you! He’s not letting you leave him behind. He puts on a brave face, as though he’s self-assured, but in truth, he’s shattered. He feels hopeless. Of course he knew you had a home, but he did not expect you to leave, so soon, and so quickly. Maybe he didn’t want you to leave at all. No matter though, this could be fixed. When Azul entrusts him and Floyd with similar tasks, he can tell that Azul is just as desperate to keep you here. They work mostly independent, but as long as something works, none of them mind which one’s plan did the trick. Jade uses his signature spell on you to pry the truth from you. When he finds that even the smallest part of you does want to return, he finds himself sinking. He must stop this, he has to. A twisted idea is born and soon enacted on the day of, when he encourages you to have a final meal he’s prepared. When you finally collapse, he takes great care to ensure that you won’t make it. But, should you be found and carried to the summoning room, assuming you are in a deep sleep, it will have failed. No surprise will show on his face, and when you finally wake to leave, he will nod and smile, wishing you well. His hands are curled into fists and he is boiling with anger. His room will soon be trashed and he will be shaking with rage. This could have changed. It could have all changed.

Floyd:

Little Shrimpy? Leaving him behind? No way! He’s already pouty about this, but somehow he is assured that you won’t leave. As though he trusts that whatever plan he puts into action specifically will stop you. This is why he is the only one seemingly totally carefree. For everyone else, the stress shows somewhere: in their eyes, in their expressions, in their hands, in their jaw, in their movements, in their behaviors… somewhere. But for Floyd, it just can’t be found. He is 100% carefree and confident that you won’t leave him behind. He intends to make sure of that, no matter what he must do. Of course, he does pout for show around you, complaining about how you have to leave, and might even blubber about it to earn your sympathy. When Azul puts him and Jade up the task of making you stay, he’s elated because he already has the ball rolling. You have to stay - no ifs, ands, or buts about it! And he does his best to convince you. He earns your guilt and remorse in every way he can, even popping up at the most inconvenient times to hang out so you can turn him down and he can pretend to feel bad about it. He lets the guilt fester in your heart, playing the long game. At last, when he’s certain he has you under his thumb, he waits until the day you are to leave. As you are stepping towards the mirror, he grabs your arm, looking at you with false pleading eyes, and begs you to stay. He watches the turmoil boil in your eyes, and almost feels that he has won. But if you ultimately tell him you have to go, he will go blank. His face will lose all emotion, and he will let go. In the coldest voice ever, he will murmur his goodbyes. And some time later, when he’s swimming through the cold, deep sea to get his mind off of everything, he will wish he didn’t have gills. He will wish he couldn’t breathe. He will wish he could drown.

a/n: wowie this was soooooo much fun!!! i totes forgot how much i ADORE writing angst ouuuugghhh!!! best thing ever awaaaaaa!! anyways, i hope you all enjoyed! leave a like, comment, or just reblog if you liked it!! please tell me how much you enjoyed it, i love catering to you all! shameless bit that i do adore asks just as well, so if you come up with a request, my asks are open! thank you!

[fictionalgap]

I Hate My Coworker (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Modern Au! Barista! Kit Thantalos x Barista! Reader

Summary: You got in an argument and things get interesting. 😉

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, Kit and reader is 18+

Chapters: Part 1,Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Song Recommendation: Taste - Ari Abdul

You rolled your eyes the entire time Kit flirted with the customers. A group of girls came here every week just to see Kit. It made your stomach sick. Especially the girl called Rachel was drooling over her. She was pretty.

However you never saw Kit writing her number on the coffee she made for the girl she flirted.

When Rachel left the shop after taking her usual order, her friends followed her to the outside. There were two customers in the shop who were enjoying their coffees.

You looked at Kit for a minute. Maybe more than one.

"Take a picture If you'd like. " She approached you with a cocky smile. You rolled your eyes and turned around to clean mugs. She was wearing a black tank top. She seemed like she hit the gym last couple of weeks.

Not that you care.

It just brought you more annoyement. You see, better she looked, more girls came here drooling over her. It was annoying. Joseph is maybe happy because it means more customers but you didn't care. It was inappropriate.

"It's inappropriate. " You muttered to yourself.

"Hm, what's that? " She appeared behind you.

She was so close that you could feel her warmth.

Your breath hitched. "Nothing."

"Hm." She said and turned around to organize some stuff. You felt cold when she moved away from you. It was weird.

You looked at her again and decided to tell her what you think this time.

"Actually... " You turned around.

She raised her her to look at you all her attention was on you.

"It's really inappropriate." You explained as you tried to tame your anger.

"What is? " She asked with a mocking stare.

"You. Flirting with customers. It's inappropriate and unethical. It's-"

"You're just mad because no one hitting on you. "

She said with delight.

"I. couldn't. care. less. " You said with a poker face. You really didn't want anyone to hit on you. You didn't want to start something romantic or sexual with someone you barely know. You had to know them and befriend them first.

"Liar."

"I don't like to flirt with random strangers. "

Kit looked at you to see through your facade but she couldn't find any.

"Why does it bother you then? " She said as she crossed her arms.

You gulped. You didn't really know the answer.

"As I said It's unethical to-" She cut you in the middle of the sentence.

"Cut the crap. "

"I don't have to explain you anything. " You said and moved towards the toilet. She followed you.

You felt her standing behind you. You turned around slowy.

"I know why does it bother you. " She said with heavy breath. You saw her face showing vulnerability which was something you never saw there before.

"Can you-"

"You're jealous." She said with a small hopeful smile.

Jealous?

You snorted so hard Kit backed away.

However as soon as she backed away she moved towards you, leaving a very small gap between you.

"I am sorry. This is just- Thank you for making me laugh but- "

You tried to move away but she put her hand to the wall behind you, blocking your way out.

"I really can't think of any other reason. If there is, please enlighten me. " She said her breath getting heavier and her blue eyes getting somehow darker than usual.

Maybe It was the lighting-

Her eyes darted to your lips.

What- Like, what- what the-

Her eyes found it's way towards you but you looked at her lips just like you did because, because-

Because you were slightly curious. Her lips looked soft. You wondered how soft they were.

You gulped and when you looked back at her you found her smirking cockily.

You blushed at her knowing smirk. Your breath shortened. You gulped again. You felt vulnerable. Like you were naked.

"What are you-" She leaned in to kiss you. It was soft. Really soft. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling. You felt her pull back. You found yourself leaning into her.

'Fuck. ' you thought to yourself. 'It felt fucking fine. ' You grabbed her cheeks as you pulled her closer to you and she put her hand around your waist, making gentle movements. Your core ached with more need. You liked the feeling. You hated It was her who was making you feel like that.

When she found your mouth open just a little bit she didn't hesitate to put her tounge into your mouth. You moaned at the contact. She pulled away and grinned. She grabbed your neck and pushed it to the side so that she can suck it as she likes.

She was gentle at first but you felt like she wanted to give a hickey so you put your knee in between her legs and pushed into her core and started to move it forward.

She whined and growled. She was really frustrated so she pinned you against the wall and kissed you as she wanted to devour you. You couldn't resist her and you kissed her back as hungrily as she did. Your hands were in her hair. Her hands were on your hips.

Her hand found it's way to the place between your legs, inside your pants.

"Oh. my. god. Is this for me? " She sounded actually suprised. She started to draw circles with her fingers.

"Don't get cocky, Thantalos. " You hardly could talk.

"Or what? " She put a shit eating grin on her face.

Her fingers started to move inside your pussy. She curled her fingers and found the sweet spot. You moaned loudly.

"That's what I thought. " She smiled smugly.

You felt dizzy as she curled and curled her fingers inside.

"Not so talkative when getting fucked, huh?"

You wanted to give an answer but your hips moved towards her finger to the point that it can be said you started to ride her fingers.

"I guess I found how to shut you up. " She grinned. You held onto her shoulders as she shifted herself so you can fuck yourself on her fingers easier.

She curled and curled her fingers.

"I think I'm-" You managed to say, eyes closed because of the pleasure.

"Come for me, Y/N. Come on my hand. " She growled.

You felt relieved as you came. You were breathing heavily. You looked at her to see her licking her own hand clean, eyes closed. She opened them slightly. Her half lidded eyes looked at you with lust. It was something you could never guess to see.

You sighed. You moved towards her and pushed your hand inside her jeans you moved the underwear out of the way and found that she was wet as well.

"Well, well, well, now, Is this for me? " You mocked her just like she did.

Her breath hitched. This time you pinned her against the wall.

She had the same shit eating grin again.

So you curled your fingers and got a dirty moan from her. You didn't like her. But you liked to hear her moan.

Very much.

"Ughh, just... be a good girl and give me a head. "

You shivered at the praise. You hated it.

You hated Kit Thantalos.

But you were fucking her.

And she just fucked you.

You pulled your hand from her jeans. "Why should I? " You wanted to tease a little.

Her eyes snapped open with urgency and need.

"I'll give you a head too, please. "

You raised your brow. "Only because you said please. "

You moved away anything in the way of her pussy and licked it all the way up.

It was pink and needy.

You give butterfly kisses fist but she started to squirm then you smacked her butt cheek. Her head turned to you. You looked at her.

"Don't move. "

You started slow but you grow to eat her hungrily and she was really having hard time not to move.

She grabbed and pulled your hair which you loved.

"Keep going. I'm so close. " She said smiling and in depths of pleasure.

"Come on my mouth, Kit. "

"Ughh, I-" She came on your mouth and a little bit on your face. She looked down to see you gulping the cum on your mouth then taking the cum on your face with your finger and then sucking it clean.

She loved the view.

"Kit! Y/N! " Joseph's sound came out of the toilet. You both looked at the voice's direction and then to each other. You chuckled while blushing. You fixed yourselfs and washed your hands.

"We gotta go. " You said in a breath.

"Yeah. I guess I'll eat you out later. " Kit said with a shy smile.

You chuckled as you left the toilet with her.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 6

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 3,308

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm getting excited to finish up the series. Four chapter left and so far it seems like the story is staying on track, and it shouldn't go over. (But you never know! 😁) Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting and reblogging this series! It means SO much! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Y/N felt her heart beat triple time as she watched Dean’s face return to the stony granite it had been when she’d first come to camp. Over the last couple of months she'd begun to see him soften slightly; there were even a few moments where he’d seemed on the verge of smiling. His eyes had eventually lost their frosty hardness, and their look of perpetual suspicion.

But both were back with a vengeance now.

She shook her head at him again and tried to understand what he was talking about. “What kind of psychic am I?” She asked, the question conjuring up an urge to laugh. The idea of her having psychic abilities was laughable to her. But she didn’t think Dean would appreciate the humor around it. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean. I haven’t done anything, and I certainly have no psychic powers.”

Dean said nothing, just shuffled sideways towards the door without  taking his eyes off of her. Y/N took a few steps towards him, but froze when his hand dropped to the pistol on his thigh and he hissed at her. “Stay back.”

She felt Emma come up and hide behind her leg and her daughter's renewed fear made anger start to burn in Y/N’s chest. In the last few weeks that Dean had been coming to dinner, Emma had been gradually losing her fear of him, offering him shy smiles and even bringing him one of her books and asking him to read to her. 

But now Y/N could feel her tremble slightly and frustration flared in her. What was Dean doing? And why? Because her mother had died in a fire when she was a baby? What kind of logic was that? Where was all this insanity coming from?

Dean walked to the entrance of the cabin and called to Patrick. When the soldier appeared in the doorway Dean spoke to him brusquely.

“Go get Castiel.”

Patrick looked back and forth between Dean and Y/N and frowned at the obvious tension. “Sir?” He questioned.

“Now.” Dean said with finality. As the man turned to leave Dean spoke again. “And send Risa in here.”

Dean continued to stare at Y/N, keeping his attention intensely fixated on her, the way he’d done during those first few days she’d been there. When Risa came into the cabin she frowned; like Patrick, she could clearly sense the hostility in the room.

When Dean saw her he nodded towards Emma. “Take the kid.”

Panic suffused Y/N and she began shaking her head. Emma clutched tightly to her leg and began crying and whimpering softly. She shook her head and buried her face in Y/N’s hip. “No, mommy.” She hiccuped softly.

“Take her.” Dean said quietly but firmly. There was a pause for a moment as Risa’s eyes lingered on Emma and Y/N before she shook her head.

“No.”

Dean turned his head slowly to look at his soldier, his expression incredulous and furious at the same time. 

“Excuse me?” He said softly, and Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. 

Risa looked away for a moment, clearly intimidated by Dean's anger. But when she looked back at him, her brow was crinkled and she still questioned his demand. 

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I gave you an order, soldier.” was Dean's softly spoken reply.

Risa stared at Dean a moment longer before she took a deep breath and then exhaled loudly and forcefully, turning and walking towards Y/N and Emma.

Emma started crying in earnest and Y/N knew that no matter what, she had to try and ease her daughter’s fear. She got down on her haunches and smoothed back Emma’s fly away hair. “Oh baby, it’s okay.” She smiled brightly at her, desperately trying to erase all her own fear and anxiety about what was happening.

“Dean and I are just gonna be here for a little while trying to figure out some boring grown up stuff.” Y/N’s happy smile seemed to be fooling Emma slightly because her tears were slowing and she sniffled.

Y/N kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you let Risa take you to see Keisha and Julianne. It will be so much more fun to play with them for a while, rather than staying here and listening to boring grownups talking. And I’ll come pick you up later, okay? I promise.”

She felt awful making a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep, but she wanted to believe she would be picking her up later, and she wanted Emma to lose the look of panic in her eyes. 

She nodded towards Risa. “Go on now, and have fun playing. I’ll see you soon.” She kissed her forehead and gave her another bright smile. 

Emma nodded, still obviously unsure, but willing to believe what Y/N was telling her.

Y/N kept her happy smile in place until Emma was out the door and then her mask dropped and she looked at Dean, her eyes accusing.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked quietly.

Before he could answer, Castiel walked through the door. Like the others, he seemed to notice the tension immediately and questioned it. 

“Dean? What’s going on?”

Dean motioned for Y/N to move backwards. “Sit down.” He said, with a gesture towards the folding chair she’d been sitting on to read the story. When she did, Dean turned his head towards Castiel, but never took his eyes off of her. 

“I know why she’s immune.”

Y/N felt her stomach lurch. “You do?” She asked, some of her anger burning away from pure shock. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Though she still had no idea what this had to do with her mother’s death.

But evidently it was connected, because the angel’s eyes widened in disbelief as Dean continued. “Her mother died in a fire when she was a baby.”

It was to her that Castiel looked for an answer. “Is that true, Y/N?” She nodded. “My God.” 

“Will someone please explain what my mother dying has to do with anything?” Y/N asked with immense frustration.

But the men ignored her for the moment. Dean was finally looking at the angel properly and he nodded at the questions in his blue eyes. 

“Yeah, she’s a psychic kid. She’s immune, just like Sam was.”

“Who is Sam?” Y/N asked, but was ignored again.

Castiel was shaking his head. “Maybe…” He looked back towards her briefly. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.” 

Dean scoffed. “Come on Cas! This is way too big a coincidence to be…coincidental.”

Cas nodded reluctantly and then frowned. “But, if she's psychic...then what’s her gift?”

Both men turned to stare at her, and Dean spoke softly. “That’s a real good question. Because she could be doing anything to us, mind controlling us, or manipulating us to only see what she wants us to.”

Y/N finally did let out a bark of laughter. “Are you insane? You think I’m mind controlling you? If I had the power of mind control, I’d definitely make you be nicer, or I’d make you let me go, because this whole thing is ridiculous! And you still haven’t explained why on earth you think I’m psychic and why my mother’s death is involved.”

Dean stared at her for a long time, and Cas just watched him. Finally Dean spoke and his voice was calm and even, as though he was just telling her a story while they sat around her table eating dinner.

“Ten years before you were born, your mother or father made a deal with a yellow-eyed demon. They got something they desperately wanted and he got permission to enter their house. When you were six months old he came into your room, slit himself open and bled into your mouth. Your mother likely interrupted him somehow, and he killed her and burnt the place down around her.”

Y/N felt her stomach turn at Dean’s words. He had to be insane, there was no way it could be true. Demon blood? A demon killed her mother? She shook her head.

“How on earth could you possibly know any of this?”

“Because it’s exactly what happened to my mom, and my brother. The demon fed him his blood, killed my mom, and when Sam turned 22 he started having psychic visions. And he wasn’t the only psychic kid. There were a bunch of them, and without fail every single one of them had powers and every single one of them went bad.”

His jaw clenched and he folded his arms over his chest. “So, if you’re gonna sit there and try and tell me that you’re the only one that never had the blood take hold, the only one who managed to avoid being triggered when you turned 22? Well, then I know you’re lying. So, I’ll ask you one more time.”

His eyes were chips of ice once again. “What can you do? And what have you done already?”

Y/N blew out a puff of exasperation. “I can’t do anything, do you hear me? I am not psychic! I have no powers!”

Cas stepped forward, putting himself between the two of them. “Okay, Y/N, have you ever felt something, something that made you different from other people? Like,” he snapped his fingers, “the ability to connect easily with people maybe? You seem to make friends quickly, people respond to you.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “So being a nice person makes me a psychic now?”

Cas shook his head. “No, but maybe it’s more than you being nice, maybe people can’t help but like you. It could be involuntary on both their part and yours. Like some sort of psychic charisma”

Cas seemed to like his idea, his expression saying that he thought he’d figured it out.

But Y/N was again shaking her head. “No, look, that’s not true. I’ve had lots of people not like me, I’ve had people try to kill me in my sleep just to steal my blanket, I’ve had men attack me just for…well, for being a woman. And I can promise you I didn’t get away from those people by smiling at them and asking nicely.”

Y/N felt the old fears rise in her as she remembered the panic and terror of those moments and so many more like them. To think that she had some kind of mind control or psychic abilities and hadn’t used them then, was laughable.

Cas looked slightly defeated and Dean pushed him aside. “The fact is though, that you could be lying through your teeth, you could be saying anything to knock us off your scent.”

Y/N scowled at him and then stood up. Dean stepped back, and yanked Cas back by his shoulder. “Sit down.” He ordered her but she shook her head.

“This is ridiculous, Dean. You have to know it is.” She took a step towards him. “What about our…our friendship? What about what happened last night?”

Dean’s eyes just got colder and his voice was deep and demanding. “I said, sit down. Now!”

“Dean.” Y/N began and stepped closer again, reaching out to him. But she stopped dead and dropped her hands to her sides as Dean pulled his gun from its holster in the span of a breath. 

“I said get back, and sit down.” He said, slow and deliberate.

Y/N looked at the gun pointed at her, looked at Dean holding it, his hand not wavering an inch, and she was suddenly, unbearably sad. She stared at him and knew her heartbreak was plastered on her face, she was bad at concealing emotions. 

She nodded slowly and moved back to sit in the chair. She had lied to Emma; she wouldn’t be picking her up tonight.

***

The night passed just as her first night in camp had; with her sleeping lightly, troubled by disturbing dreams and waking to find Dean watching her almost unblinkingly. He took her to the outhouses on his own this time, and she wasn’t in chains so, that much had changed. But his hand hovering over his gun the whole way there and back definitely felt binding, and kept her locked in place just ahead of him.

When they got back to the cabin Dean walked over to the door and said something quietly to whoever was just outside. A few minutes later Theresa arrived with breakfast. She looked at Y/N back in her spot on the floor by the table leg and her young face creased in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” She asked Y/N with a look thrown at Dean.

Y/N tried to smile and put her student’s mind at ease. “Nothing, sweetie. Just trying to sort something out. Tell your mom thank you for the breakfast, but I’m not hungry. You should take that back to her so it doesn’t go to waste.”

“Eat it.” Dean’s voice rang out with authority and Theresa took a step closer to Y/N.

Y/N didn’t bother looking at him. Instead she gave Theresa a reassuring nod and the girl bent to set the tray on the ground. “It’s okay, thank you. I’ll probably be hungry later.”

But she wasn’t. She felt guilty enough about wasting food to try and swallow some down, but it just stuck in her throat and she gagged on it and spit it out. At lunch Brandy brought the food tray and she was slightly more vocal with her questions than her daughter was. 

“What the hell is going on here?” She asked Dean. “All the parents are confused and worried. They said you ordered them out of here yesterday and no one has seen Y/N since; Emma’s back with Monique.” 

She set the lunch tray on the table Y/N leaned against and bent to pick up the uneaten breakfast tray. She was looking at Y/N, but still addressing Dean when she spoke. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing that concerns you.” Dean answered brusquely.

Brandy stood to her full height and her large chest rose and fell with indignation. “Since when do you keep me out of the loop?”

Dean frowned at her and his voice was laced with annoyance and anger. “Since this isn’t something that requires your attention. And I’d like to know, exactly when did everyone start questioning my orders?”

Brandy shrugged, seemingly unfazed by his foreboding tone. “I guess when your orders started to seem stupid.”

Y/N’s eyes grew round, beyond impressed at the woman’s boldness and nerve. Dean seemed much less impressed by it though, staring the woman down with a furious expression. But Brandy kept his gaze and never wavered. Finally Dean spoke through gritted teeth.

“Take away the tray, and send someone else with the supper tray.”

Brandy stayed still until Dean took a step towards her and yelled, “That is an order!”

Brandy shook her head, but turned towards the door as she answered. “Don’t forget, boss, not all of us are your soldiers. Some of us follow you because you’ve been a good leader.” She paused at the door and looked back at him. “Don’t fuck that up.”

She walked out, leaving behind an electric buzz of tension in the air. Dean turned back to her and the muscle in his jaw was still jumping. 

“Eat.”

But Y/N shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit!” Dean said bitingly. “You haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. You have to be hungry. I don’t know what kind of hunger strike, sympathy ploy you’re going for here, but it’s not gonna work. Now, eat!” He ended on a shout and something snapped inside Y/N. 

She jumped to her feet and yelled back. “This isn’t a sympathy ploy, you bloody dumbass! I can’t eat the food because it tastes disgusting to me and it chokes me. My stomach is in knots and I feel sick! And do you know why that is? Because you keep threatening to kill me!”

Dean thundered towards her, stopping barely two feet from her. “Yeah, and I’m not gonna have you starve to death before I get the chance! Now eat!”

Y/N threw her arms wide. “What the hell do you care if I starve! It’ll just save you a bullet!” 

She took a deep breath, feeling herself unraveling but unable to stop. “You have me locked up in this place, again! You think I’m some kind of horrible monster. Again!” Her voice broke. “You have taken my child away from me! Again! So don’t pretend to give a shit about my fucking health and wellbeing!” She reached out to furiously smash the food tray to the ground. 

Silence descended and Y/N breathed hard and heavy through her nose, her anger carrying her through a little longer before she turned away from him and buried her face in her hands, quiet, uncontrollable sobs shaking her. 

By the time she managed to get herself under some kind of control, she turned around to see that Dean was gone. She looked around the room as though he might be hiding in plain sight, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Y/N walked over and fell down onto the chair he'd sat in all night. She felt exhausted and deflated. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but it felt like ages before Cas walked through the door. He looked solemn and he nodded at her. 

“Dean says that you should go.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop. “He’s kicking us out?”

Cas held up a hand. “Oh, no! Not…he didn’t say for you to go from camp. I mean that he said for you to go from here. Go get your daughter, go back to your tent. That kind of go.”

Y/N shook her head, more confused than ever. “I don’t understand. Now, suddenly he doesn’t think I’m some kind of psychic menace?”

Cas shrugged. “Psychic yes, but menace no. He said, and I quote, ‘She was pissed enough to take off my head if she could have, and she didn’t, so she can’t.’” He shook his head. “Occasionally his thought process is hard to follow.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, you’re telling me.”

She didn’t waste anymore time right then, though, contemplating Dean’s bizarre behavior; she was free to go and she ran to get Emma, apologizing for taking longer than she said she would to come get her.

Emma forgave her easily for not keeping her promise, relief clear in her big, deep cerulean eyes. They spent the evening cuddling in the tent; Y/N read her a dozen books and played clapping games with her until Emma’s eyes were shining again, and no more fear or worry clouded them.

At bedtime she sang her a song and Emma drifted off to sleep happily; Y/N found no such easy reprieve. She laid awake for hours trying to understand Dean and the way he thought. He’d been so angry, so sure of her wickedness and evil. And then, just like that, because she’d exploded in anger, he let her go?

How did that man’s mind work? And how did he see her now? Harmless psychic freak? Or someone he’d still have to keep a close eye on? 

She shook her head. It didn’t matter, he’d made himself perfectly clear on one thing, the relationship she’d thought they had, the friendship that she’d hoped would grow into more had meant nothing to him. The kiss they’d shared had meant nothing. 

She meant nothing. He couldn't  have acted the way he did if he cared about her at all.

She needed to remember that going forward and not let her heart get entangled so easily.

From now on, she needed to keep her distance.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @hobby27

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

In this moment

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader, Reader x oc!Liam (platonic)

Warnings: toxic Melissa, hint to miscarriage, pregnancy, angst, depression, let me know if I missed anything also unedited

Pt.3 of why did you invite me? Pt.2 Pt.4 Pt.5

8 years ago…

I sat alone in the empty hall, Melissa had just left all but slamming the door behind her while I had the pregnancy test in my back pocket. I tried to tell her when I had gotten home that I took one at work but her bags were stacked and she was ready to go.

The words left my lips and all I could do was cry “M-mel baby” but she only looked away “Mel!” It was a weak attempt. I reached out and grabbed her arm as she continued to pack “Melissa stop!” But she wouldn’t.

“I’m pregnant!”

“No you’re not”

We had been using both Melissa’s and mine’s dna so far there had been a few losses “Melissa, I really am!” My voice caught in my throat. “You’ll only lose it again!” She yelled finally facing me “it-it wasn’t my fault” the redhead shook her head before grabbing her things and leaving.

It wasn’t my fault…

Getting used to her absence was hard and as my stomach grew it became much harder it felt like learning to live once again. There were days where the shower felt out of reach, food didn’t feel necessary and I couldn’t move- glued to the bed I once shared with her.

I couldn’t change the sheets for a while, trying to hold onto her scent pretending she was just on a trip until her scent faded and reality hit. She was gone.

She was gone.

And I would raise our child alone

Liam came over a week after she left and looked over at me in sympathy before rolling me off the bed and into the bath. He sat with me and washed my hair just talking to me, I loved him and I hoped he knew “Liam, how will I do this?” I asked him.

“You have me”

I have him

“Thank you” I cried into my hands still in the tub as he rubbed my back

“This clump of cells is also part Liam” he joked

“Careful people might think you’re straight” I rolled my eyes causing him to gasp “as your best friend, you should be thankful I would go straight for you”

“You’re a dick” I laughed “now help me out please the water is getting cold”

-

“It’s a girl” the doctor smiled as my eyes remained on the screen, a girl, a girl, my little girl. Melissa had wanted a girl.

This was all we had ever wanted

-

I stared in the mirror, four months and I felt huge. I traced the stretch marks expanding across my stomach. There is a child in there I thought with a bittersweet smile my little girl, I hadn’t given her a name yet.

-

My due date was nearing

Soon I will have my little girl in my arms, Liam stood in the kitchen making lunch while I finished decorating the nursery. My hand gently glided across the crib back and forth while I glanced around the room, it was a fairytale’s dream.

Fuck you Melissa Ann Schemmenti

I cursed mentally as I sat on the plush rocking chair, Ann- Anna that’s the name of my girl. Pollyanna a name that I had always loved.

My Pollyanna Leah Schemmenti

-

“Congratulations Mama” Liam choked out as he handed me a small bundle of pink blankets this had to be the first time in fifteen years I had ever seen him cry.

I peaked over the blankets looking at her, my girl, and I laughed sadly “she’s fucking ginger” Fuck you Melissa Schemmenti.

“My girl”

[albertasunrise]

Seeing Things - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (So... I am trying to update my other pics but the reaction I getting from this ones really giving me the motivation to continue it... so thank you and I hope you enjoy this update! ♥️ It's not a super long one but everything gonna become clear I promise!)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

In the weeks that followed, the sightings of you only increased. You seemed to be everywhere he looked, asking him the same thing over and over again. 

Come back to me

He wished he knew what you wanted. Surely you didn't want him to leave little Esme? You would never have wanted him to hurt himself so why did you ask him to go back to him? You were dead!

"I brought you your favourites." He stated plainly as he pulled out the old bouquet of flowers Ben had brought you the week before. He poured out the stagnant water and replenished it with some from the bottle of water he'd stashed in his pack. Then, just as you had shown him on one of the many evenings you'd spent together, he arranged them carefully, sure to make sure they were just how you would have liked them. 

"I'm sorry I haven't visited sooner." He said as he got to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck nervously "Things have been busy with the baby and work... Don't want to bore you with the details but ya know... It's been hard." He let out a long sigh as he scraped his hand over his face to wipe away the traitorous tears that tracked down his cheeks "Esme's getting so big so fast." He continued "You should see her Titch, the spitting image of you! With the addition of my hair and eyes." He chuckled. 

His eyes traced over the words carved into your headstone. 

The words Here Lies carved in an elegant font followed by your first name and last name, 'Titch' at the end by request of Ben

Friend and Mother 

Forever loved

Never forgotten

Ben had selected the words. Frankie hadn't been able to bring himself to do it so the younger Miller had stepped up. Taking the 'anything I can do to help' statement he'd made to Fish when you'd died so literally. 

"Seeing you everywhere is killing me Titch." Frankie said after a short pause "Is this what you meant? Come to me, did you mean this? Because I am wracking my brains baby, trying to understand what it is you want from me." He sobbed "The guys all think I'm losing the plot but I know you're there. Just out of eyeshot or something and I know you're trying to tell me something so please... help me understand Titch." 

He paused, his eyes locked on the headstone as he let out a shaky breath before pleading one last time. 

"Please..." 

"Frankie." Your voice made him just and his head shot up, scanning the surroundings for you. 

"Frankie please..." You pleaded "Please don't leave me." 

No matter where he looked he couldn't see you. But he could hear you like you were right beside him. 

"What do you mean?" He begged, tears openly spilling down his cheeks "I'm here Titch... Baby I'm here!" 

"Please don't leave me, Frankie." You repeat, your tone breaking his heart as he desperately looked for you among the headstones "I can't do this without you." 

This statement let Frank's brows draw together. What did you mean by that? He was the one who'd been left behind. Your pleads disappeared like smoke on the wind and Frankie was left with the sound of his own breathing and the rattling of branches. He pressed his palms firmly against his eyes as he tried to slow his breathing, his pounding heart hammering against his ribs. 

"I can't do this." He whispered to no one in particular, allowing the dam to break "Fuck I can't... I can't cope with this." 

You didn't say anything else and Frankie audibly groaned before pushing himself to his feet. He didn't understand why you were doing this. Torturing him. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. 

...

"Well, ain't that better Lil' Titch?" Ben said as he finished fastening her babygrow "Uncle Ben's not so bad at this huh?" 

Esme smiled in reply, her legs kicking and arms waving in visible excitement before he scooped her into his arms and planted a big kiss on her cheek. She settled quickly on his shoulder and he smiled as she let out a little sigh and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly. 

"Shit Titch... I wish you could see how perfect she is." He whispered as he placed a kiss on the infant's brow.

"Hands off... she's mine." Frank teased as he walked into the lounge, grinning as his best friend cuddled his daughter so closely.

"You gotta share the baby Fish!." Ben chuckled as he gently gingerly sat on the couch. 

“Yeah, yeah...” Frank grumbled as he waved off his friend, traipsing to the kitchen to fetch a beer. 

“How’d it go?” Ben asked when the older man reappeared, giving him a sympathetic smile as he watched him sit on the armchair across from him. 

“How’d what go?”

“Seeing Titch!” 

“Was fine.” Frankie shrugged, fooling no one once again. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Ben pushed and Frankie groaned. 

“Ben…”

“You gotta talk about this shit man!” Ben pushed, pleading with his eyes for his friend to just open up to him. 

“You won’t believe me!” 

“Why would you-“

“I heard Titch again.” Frank snapped, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake his baby. 

“What do you mean you heard her?” 

“I keep hearing her talking to me. Sometimes I see her and she always says the same thing!”

“Which is?” 

"To go back to her." Frank replied, scraping a shaky hand over his face. 

"Go back to her?"

"Yes, Ben!" He snarled "And today she was begging me not to leave her!" He choked "But she left me Ben!... I loved her and she left me all alone..." He trailed off as he broke down into tears, head in his hands. 

Ben got up and placed Esme in her Moses basket with practised ease before sitting on the arm of the chair Frank was sitting in and pulling him close. 

"I can't do this..." He sobbed and Ben sighed "I don't know what she wants from me." 

"Fish... this is just your brain's way of holding onto her." Ben sighed "We all deal with grief in different ways... Shit, I keep listening to the last voicemail she left me over and over again just so I don't forget her voice!" 

"No!" Frank all but shrieked "That's not what this is Ben! It's her I know it is!" 

"You can't seriously believe Titch is haunting you, man!" Ben sighed as he stood up to check on Esme as she started to fuss. 

"I don't know how else to explain it, Ben!" He growled "I keep seeing her everywhere and she keeps repeating the same thing over and over!" 

"Fish-" 

"But then today she said something different." Frankie interrupted " She begged me not to leave her... Told me she couldn't do this without me..." He trailed off whilst nervously pacing his lounge "What does that even mean? She can't do this without me... She can't be dead without me? Doesn't make any fucking sense!" 

"Fish... Man, you need to calm down!" Ben pleaded, noting how breathless the pilot has suddenly become "This won't be doing your heart any good man!" 

"My heart's fine!" The older man grumbled.

"You say that but this can't be good for you!" Ben warned "Just take a breath man... I believe you, okay! I believe you saw her." 

"You're just saying that." Fish scoffed, rolling his eyes when Ben frantically shook his head. 

"I'm really not okay!" The younger man pleaded "Just... Just please." 

Frankie sighed as he ran a shaky hand through his mussed hair. His eyes then drifted to Esme who was staring over at him with her large, teary eyes. His heart ached and he was quick to scoop her up into his arms and lay a soothing kiss on the crown of her head. 

"I'm sorry baby girl." He whispered as he bounced her gently in his arms "I just miss your mummy so much." 

"We all do brother." Ben said as he placed a comforting hand on Frankie's back "I'm not trying to say that I even remotely understand the pain you're feeling brother but know that I miss her so much it hurts... And that I am here! Whatever you need..." 

Frankie nodded, giving his friend a weak smile before resting his cheek on the top of Esme's head. 

"I know Ben." He said softly "Thanks." 

"Any time." Ben replied, giving his friend a friendly wink before grabbing his stuff to leave "See you tomorrow for dinner yeah?" 

"Sure." The pilot replied softly "See you then." 

...

"Why the fuck did you pick a restaurant that didn't have a parking lot asshole!" Ben grumbled as he pushed Esme's pram along the pavement, the steep hill making it a little harder. 

"It had good reviews okay!" Will grumbled, "It's not that bad!" 

"You're not the one pushing a pram up a 90-degree hill!" Ben grumbled, pulling a smirk from Frankie. 

"You offered brother!" Frank pointed out, sniggering at the groan that he received in reply "I can take her if you're struggling."

"I am not struggling!" Ben argued and Fish threw his hands up in surrender.

"We're nearly there!" Will piped up "Just across the street."

The three of them reached the crossing, breathing a small sigh of relief when the restaurant came into view. Will crossed first with Ben following closely behind him. Something had distracted Frankie, leading him to step out a few steps behind his friends but your voice calling his name stopped him in his tracks and he looked to his left, your figure illuminated by a bright white light. 

"Come back to me." You pleaded as you always did and Frankie froze. Tears sprouted as he looked at you smiling back at him as you held your hand out to him "Come back to me." 

You disappeared as quickly as you appeared, a horn sounding before Ben screamed his name. Then suddenly he was flying for a brief moment before his body connected with something solid and he rolled over it before hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. 

"FISH!!" Ben screamed as he ran to the pilot's side, hands shaking as he took in his friend's condition "Fish stay with me." He choked as he saw how bent and broken the older man looked.

Frankie winced as he turned his head, noting how Will was standing with the pram as he frantically spoke to who he assumed was the emergency service on his phone. He also noted that the driver who had hit him was nowhere to be seen. 

Hit and run. 

"Ben." He coughed after he spoke, blood filling his throat at an alarming rate. 

"Shhhh." He hushed the man and stroked his hair, desperately trying to keep himself together "Just keep breathing for my Fishsticks!" He pleaded 'Please don't leave me..."

His last statement blended into yours. He could hear you again, pleading not to leave you and he only felt more confused. He was dying... it was clear that he was so surely he was going back to you. 

Surely you should be happy?

"Please, Frankie... Please don't leave me." 

You pleaded... your voice shaky. 

"I'm coming Titch." He whispered. His eyes fell shut as darkness took him. 

"What's happening?" You sobbed as hands moved you from the room.

"He's crashing!" Stated someone in the room and you shook your head as you were pushed into the hallway, still able to see everything through the glass walls of Frankie's room. 

"Please, Frankie... Please don't leave me." You sobbed "Please..." 

Another set of hands pulled you away but not before you witnessed them shock the man you loved, desperately trying to restart the heart that was supposed to save him. You were placed in a room where you had spent more time than you cared to remember in the past month and a half. Hours sat waiting for news on whether Frankie was going to pull through. 

He'd gotten the heart he so desperately needed yet for close to two months he'd been in a coma, fighting battle after battle. This was just the latest in a long list of complications he'd suffered. 

Kidney Failure... Infection... His body had even rejected the donor heart but that was something they had managed to detect early. It seemed his body just refused to get better, even if his mind wasn't willing to let go. 

"What's happening?" Asked Ben as he stepped into the room after being directed here by a nurse, his brows tightly drawn in concern. 

"He crashed." You sobbed as you threw your head into your hands.

"What?... What caused it?" 

"I don't know." You replied, shaking your head "They dragged me in here as they tried to bring him back... I haven't heard anything yet." 

Ben nodded solemnly as he sat down beside you, handing you Esme when you held your arms out to receive her. You needed to hold your baby. 

"Why won't he get better Ben?" You sobbed as your eyes locked with his.

"He's really poorly." He replied softly "He needs time to get better." 

"But that's just it... He's not getting better!" 

"He will, Titch." Ben assured you and you sighed. 

"How do you know that?" 

"Because he's got something to fight for." He stated plainly. 

The two of you then sat in that room for what felt like hours, glad of Esme to keep you somewhat distracted from what the outcome of this latest setback might be. The doctor appeared sometime later. His expression was difficult to read. 

"How is he Doc?" Ben asked, holding your free hand tightly in his. 

"We managed to bring him back." The doctor announced, "He's weak and we have had to up his anti-rejection meds." 

"He's rejecting the heart again?" 

"He never technically stopped." The doctor stated "We have been able to keep it under control with medication. He seems to be responding well though and we're hopeful." 

You both breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, glad that finally, something was going right. 

"There's something else though." The doctor stated and both you and Ben shared a grim glance before looking at the doctor again. 

"What is it?" You asked, your voice shaking slightly. 

"He's awake." 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[gojos-thot-patrol]

nanami kento, hope, “is it mine?” 💛💛💛

fun fact Nonnie, this was actually the phrase to activate my domestic fluff sleeper agent, so congratulations on finding that!

Now Presenting...

Starring: soon to be father Nanami Kento

Your heart was racing far faster than you had ever given it permission to. Honestly. When you first invited him over, you expected Nanami to brush you off. Laugh in your face and tell you to get lost. Honestly, you wouldn’t have blamed him. You were the one that left him high and dry, telling him out of nowhere that you had gotten a job in the states and you were going to take it. That you loved him so much, but you worked hard for your career and you knew he couldn’t leave Tokyo. 

He was devastated, but he didn’t try to stop you. He understood you had to do what was going to make you happy, even if that meant leaving him behind. And you really thought you were going to be happy! America may have sucked, but it was the first home you had ever known, and you excelled at your job! Things couldn’t have been better! In theory. While you should have been on top of the world, the bitter taste of losing your lover stuck to your lips. It made it impossible to move on. Still, you were determined to make your new life work.

Then everything changed.

You were lost in your thoughts when Nanami knocked on Satoru’s apartment door, sending you scrambling to open it. You were thankful Gojo agreed to vacate for a bit so you could have this talk. “Coming! I’m coming!” You called, before basically throwing the door open, startling Nanami a bit.

“Hi Nanami!” You smiled, catching your breath.

“Hey Y/n,” He said, eyes full of concern. “You ok?”

“Yea, yea, I’m ok!” You said, moving out of the way of the door and gesturing him inside. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He took one more good look at you before walking inside.

“You called me at 3 am on a plane to Tokyo, after only being in America for 2 months, saying you made a horrific mistake and that you needed me.” That was a week ago. Nanami was away on business when you called him, leading you to crashing in Gojos spare room while Nanami chased his own tail in Africa, praying to whatever deity that would listen that you would be okay until he could get to you.

“Oh, yea..” You muttered, rubbing the back of your neck, “Sorry about that..I was kinda having a moment. Fun fact I called you like, while standing in line to board.” You laughed. And buying your ticket the same day. It was very frantic.

“Y/n, whats going on?” Nanami asked, worry dripping from his soft voice as he took a step to you. He wanted to pull you into his arms, hold you close and assure you it would be okay. But, he wasn’t sure if that was very appropriate anymore. 

“I, um..” You tried to say it, you really did, “Want some coffee?” You smiled nervously.

“Sure?” Nanami more asked than said. You nodded and went to the kitchen while he sat on the couch. You came back with a cup of coffee for him and tea for you. He raised an eyebrow at it.

“When did you start preferring tea?” He asked. 

“Oh, I can’t really have a lot of caffeine anymore.” You muttered, taking a sip, “Health reasons.”

“Is that why you left?” He asked, resting his hand on your knee. You felt the tension start to melt from you at his small touch. You let go of the nervous breath in your chest and nodded, placing your hand on his,

“Yea, kinda.” You nodded, “I uh…I started getting sick, all the time in the morning, which sucked because I was also constantly hungry,” You laughed a bit at the cruelty of that, “I got headaches all the time and I was so like, moody? I guess? And then I started feeling tired a lot and my sense of smell got crazy good-”

“That sounds like..” Nanami started very gently, feeling his body tense with the apprehension. 

“Yea, uh, actually” You muttered before running quickly to the kitchen and running back. Gojo insisted on keeping the picture of the fridge. “Thats because it is.” you handed the photo to Nanami.

Kento stared at the ultrasound in his hand for what felt like impossibly long. Trying to process the reality of the small, fuzzy gray jellybean, swimming in a black sea. It almost looked like an alien, or an alien jellybean, and it was hard to believe something so small had the potential to be so life changing. His heart felt impossibly full as he imagined his life with this little smudge involved. He imagined the small moments, helping them with homework or showing them Mario Kart for the first time. Reading them to sleep and taking them to school, slowly discovering who they were and what kind of person they’d be. It was overwhelming. 

“Kento,” You whispered, wiping a tear from his eye. You were wreaked with the thought that they were tears of despair. Your gentle movement ripped him out his his day dreaming, and away from the ultrasound to look into your eyes. He held your hand to his cheek, and any thought that the tears were negative evaporated from your mind, like a drop of sweat onto a Texas sidewalk in the summer. There wasn’t a hint of sadness in his soft eyes, instead all they held was love and adoration. Hope overflowing out of him in the form of tears. 

“Is it mine?” He asked. It’s not that he doubted you, he just needed to hear it. The two of you had been apart for two months, but that didn’t take him out of the running to be the dad. It had to be him, he knew it was him. He knew his baby when he saw them. You smiled gently and nodded.

“You’re the only person I’ve been with in years Kento, if it’s not yours, its Jesus's,” You laughed. Nanami grappled you in what was possibly the most gentle tackle ever, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he pulled you into his lap. You hugged him back as you giggled, , kissing the side of his head as you melted into his embrace. You hadn’t felt this safe and loved since you left, and you realized america was not worth giving up this. You had no idea what you were thinking, leaving the love of your life for a place that didn’t even have free healthcare. It was almost like you did it for plot reasons, it was crazy!

Nanami pulled away, and almost pulled you into a kiss before stopping himself. He needed to remember, he couldn’t really assume anything in this situation. “Whats the plan, darling?” He asked, looking up at you from the place you sat in his lap.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Well, what are we going to do? We don’t-have to be together to raise a child…” It felt like pulling his fingernails out of the beds to say it, but Kento believed in a womans right to her body and her future first and foremost. Whatever you wanted to happen would happen, without question or push back. Though, the soft spot in his heart hoped he already knew the answers to his questions. Why else would you tell him? Why else would you come back?

“Oh, shut up,” You laughed, shaking your head, “I want to start a life with you Kento, I want to start a family. If you’ll have me that i-” You didn’t have time to fully finish your sentence before Nanami's hands were on the sides of your head pulling you into an impassioned kissed. Honeyed warmth filled your chest and butterflies filled your stomach. You pulled each other impossibly closer, kissing each other like it was the last meaningful thing the two of you would ever do.

“I love you.” Nanami gasped as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you too.” You whispered, placing a soft hand on his cheek. A knock interrupted the moment, startling both you and Nanami out of the bliss of your reunion.

“Can I come in? Is it safe?” Satoru called from the other side of his own door, making you erupt into a fit of giggles. 

“Yea, come on in Satoru!” You called. He ducked into the living room, and broke into a wide grin when he saw you sat side saddle on Kentos lap.

“You two seem close!” Said captain obvious, “So you guys are back together, right?!” You shared a look with Nanami, and then a smile and a nod.

“Yea, I think it’s safe to say that.” Nanami grinned. 

“I think so too.” You confirmed. 

“Yes!” Satoru cheered, raising up his hands in celebration. “Love wins yet again!” Look, he may have thought that love was the worst possible curse for him. That doesn’t mean he couldn't tell when his friends were genuinely happy. The two of you laughed with your friend before turning back to each other. Nanami pressed a loving kiss to your cheek.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” He smiled.

“I am too.”

[multifandomfanficss]

Home Is Wherever You Are P6

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: When the device fails, you and Adrian go to a friend for help.

Warnings: mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia

A/N: Sorry I skipped a week! It was a very intense and demanding week. I was actually getting lifeguard certified! Thank you guys for all of your support on this story. Enjoy!

“What the fuck do you mean he left?!” Harcourt yelled. She wanted you back just as badly as everyone else, but as the team leader she had to make the hard choices and she couldn’t afford to lose anyone else because of this mission.

“He’ll get there. He’ll find them and he’ll find a way back.” Economos sounds optimistic for once in his life.

“Since when have you become so optimistic?” She asks.

“I can be surprising!” John huffs.

September 13th, 1994

You wake up to an empty bed. It all must have been some fucked up dream. You had to get Gut and Chris out the door for school. Adrian should already be there. Diane would have driven him into his first day this morning. Your eyes blur with fresh tears about to drop as you rise from bed. Your vision clogged by tears, so you don’t see Adrian’s suit peaking out from under the bed. You trip over one oh his shin guards and hit the floor. You hear footsteps race up the stairs.

“Are you okay?” Adrian busts open the door.

“Yeah I’m fi- what are you wearing?” You look up to find your boyfriend in one of Diane’s old baking aprons.

“My mom’s apron.” He says as if that’s obvious.

“I mean why are you wearing it?” You question, as you start to stand up.

“Why? It’s because it’s floral and lacy and technically for a woman isn’t it? I didn’t think you’d been in the 90’s that long, but-“

“No, you can wear it, but like were you cooking…or…” You trail off.

“Sorry. I just spent too much time with teenage Chris.” He sighs

“He saw you?”

“Yeah and he kept calling me voice message guy. I don’t even know what that means.” He looks at you in confusion.

“Don’t worry about it! You know Chris! Always a dick!” You blush, trying to change the subject.

“He’s more of a dick than I remember. I made him breakfast and I didn’t even get a thank you! He just called me Nancy and left with Gut for school! That’s not even my name!” You pull him into your embrace.

“Baby, he’s calling you gay.”

“Okay? He’s not wrong. I am queer. I don’t just like girls. He’s queer too. What’s the point in bringing it up at breakfast?” Adrian questions.

“Well, I don’t think he’s fully come to terms with or maybe even realized that yet. He’s still technically living with his dad and it’s the 90’s. Everything is gay in a weird way. I know it sucks, but we have to allow time to breathe and change. We’re the ones out of our time here. We can go beat up homophobes and not mess up the timeline in our own time.” You kiss him. The 90’s are a shock to him since he doesn’t remember them very well. They were a shock to you too, but he’s just been thrown into it. You had over a week to adjust. It’s not pretty. Discrimination never is, but when you know better times are coming, you can’t do anything that could risk your better future. Home isn’t perfect, but it’s a little better than this. Fighting homophobia now would be like traveling back in time to fight segregation or women’s rights. It’s such a big fixed point in time that if you mess with it, you could change everything and you have no guarantee it would be for the better. People always talk about time travel like it’ll be wonderful. They never stop and think about all the awful responsibility that comes with it or how it affects your morality. “And before you get the idea no, you’re not killing his dad.”

“Why not?” Adrian asks.

“Because if you kill him that would affect history too much. We have no idea what that could do to Chris. We may never stop the butterflies or any other major threat in the future because maybe Chris didn’t become a hero or maybe he followed in his dad’s footsteps while mourning. Peacemaker as we know him would probably cease to exist. Do you know how many people he’s saved? They could all be dead. Emilia could be dead. That could start a whole different chain reaction. I wish we could kill Chris’ dad now, but who knows what kind of chaos that would cause to the timeline. We could completely break it.” You remind him.

“You’re right. Let’s just get out of here before we fuck anything else up.” He digs around in his pocket for the time travel grenades.

“Were those just in your pocket?” You ask.

“Yeah. I’m not an idiot (Y/N). I wasn’t gonna let them get lost or stolen.” He hands you one.

“Why does mine have a light on it?” You ask.

“It’s supposed to.” He informs you.

“Then why doesn’t yours have one?” You ask.

“Oh fuck! I thought I heard a crack when I sat on it earlier, but I was really hoping it was just the chair.” Your jaw drops to the floor as he gives you one of his famous Adrian Chase ‘I fucked up’ faces.

“Does that mean we’re stuck here?” You ask. He grabs his suit and starts going through all the pockets.

“It’s gonna be fine because Adebayo gave me a piece of paper with the address for the old ARGUS headquarters. They’re gonna help us which means under no circumstances do we need to freak out.” He reassures you.

“Oh shit! Adrian!”

“What?”

“No, not you. I’m sorry. Well, sort of you, but little you…I have to pick him up from preschool later. He has a half day today. I forgot. If I don’t do it nobody will.” You remind your boyfriend.

“What if we go, figure out a plan, pick up little me and go back later if need be. We need what? A battery? It can’t take that long.” Adrian suggests.

“Okay. You’re right we’ll probably be fine. You agree and head off to the address.

When you arrive there you find a little girl sitting on a bench doing homework. She’s all by herself outside of ARGUS headquarters.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” You ask her.

“I’m homeschooled. My mommy says traveling with her is a better education.” She smiles, kicking her feet, filling in the next math problem.

“So you travel a lot?” You ask her. She nods.

“Where have you been?” Adrian asks her.

“I’ve been all over North America, most of Europe, and a ton of places in South America, but my mommy goes all over the world for work.” She tells you. You get a better look at her homework to see she’s doing math at a level that you assumed she was years away from. She looked like she was doing basic middle school math, but couldn’t be more than 7 or 8.

“Is that math hard?” You asked.

“Not really. It’s kinda boring though.” She shrugs.

“Woah! Looks like we have a little artist in our presence!” Adrian points at a dog she’d drawn in the corner of the page.

“I love dogs and I’m really good at drawing them! One day I’m gonna have so many!” She beams.

“Leota!” You hear her name being called from the doorway of the old ARGUS headquarters.

“You guys seem really nice maybe we can go exploring sometime together!” She says before running off.

Suddenly everything makes sense. Both you and Adrian proceed to laugh.

“Everyday this feels more and more like a fever dream.” You say, walking inside.

As soon as you walk in you start looking for any excuse to be there. Looking at the front desk person only ten steps away you didn’t plan this very well.

“Why did we think coming in here with no plan was a good idea?” Adrian asks you.

“It was your idea!” You remind him.

“You followed it!” He argues.

“It’ll be fine just think think think think think…” Your eyes scan the mailboxes in the entry way until you see one you recognize. No fucking way.

You pull Adrian up to the front desk.

“Who are you here to see?” They ask.

“We’re here to see John Economos.” You smile.

“And who should I say is here?” They ask.

“Some old friends and colleagues.”

The front desk person gives you a key card which will only let you take the elevator to John’s floor and gives you instructions on how to get there. When you arrive he isn’t ecstatic to see you, but that’s fair. He doesn’t even know you yet.

“You’re not my mom bringing my lunch.” He groans. John may only be 27, but his attitude is still the same.

“No, we’re not, but we need your help.” You start.

“Why should I help you?” He asks.

“Why shouldn’t you help us?” Adrian retorts.

“There are literally so many reasons. I’m not losing my job over this.”

“Trust me. You won’t.” Adrian laughs loudly over a joke that would go over John’s head.

“We have to tell him the truth.” You tell Adrian.

“What truth? I don’t even know you people.” John says.

“I thought you said nobody can know…”

“Well we kinda have to tell him about the time travel device in order for him to be able to fix it.” You remind him.

“So let me get this straight. You two nutcases think you’re time travelers?” John laughs.

“I can prove it! We’re friends and you have to believe me because I know you have an 11th Street Kids tattoo on your arm that you got at a Hanoi Rocks concert in Finland when you were 14!” You tell him.

“That’s not the most difficult thing to find out about me. It’s literally written on my skin.” He rolls his eyes.

“Well here’s a picture of us in the van and here’s a picture of you feeding Eagly. I actually took that one while you weren’t looking because you get annoyed when I say you like him. Here’s a pic-“

“That’s enough, Adrian!” You push his hands down, hiding his phone from John’s view.

“You’re the one who said we could tell him!” Adrian says, getting frustrated.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just worried about him learning too much about the future.”

“So what? I’m supposed to believe you because you just because you taught yourself the new Adobe Photoshop 3.0 to get ahead on your job resume? And then stuck it on what?…a digital frame?” John is annoyingly skeltical, but it is still his first year at ARGUS. He hasn’t seen everything his older self has yet. You sigh.

“Catch.” You toss him the broken device. “If you can fix this and send us home I promise we’ll be out of your hair for the next 28 years.”

“So who’s the idiot who broke it” Economos asks, looking it over.

“It’s not broken broken though, right? Can’t you just like recharge it?” You ask.

“Dude the power source is crushed. What did you do; sit on it?” John questions.

“…No” Adrian lies, poorly concealed behind an exaggerated expression.

“Can you fix it?” You’re hopeful.

“No, I can’t fix it. What do I look like? George Jetson? This is some weird power source that I’m pretty sure doesn’t even exist yet.” John says in his classic pessimistic tone. Good to think some things never change.

“Well then how do you know it’s the power source?” Adrian challenges him.

“There’s an on/off button” John says, bluntly.

“We’re never getting home…” You sigh. Adrian picks up your hand as a gentle reminder everything would be okay. It was something you two often did when he saw you becoming a bit anxious and you needed something to anchor yourself. At least you had him back.

“Well I might not be able to fix it, but I could probably amplify the field of one device to be able to take two people, but it would take a little bit of time.”

“How long is a little bit? I have to pick up the kid I nanny from preschool.” You ask Economos, concerned about Adrian’s younger self.

“Oh no! You can’t just dip on me. I’m not putting my job at any further risk for a 3 year old.”

“Well that 3 year old grows up to be 30 and meets you and then proceeds saves your life more than once, so I’d rethink that. Without that 3 year old most of us would probably be dead.” You defend Adrian.

Your adult boyfriend proudly smiles and waves at your younger friend.

“Gross! You’re nannying your fucking boyfriend?!” Economos is appalled.

“I didn’t have a lot of choices, okay!” You defend yourself.

“Yeah, tell that to Freud!” Economos laughs at his own joke.

“We’re not going back in time again. We’re trying to go forward in time.” Adrian missed John’s joke, but to be fair his tone has apparently never in his life been easy to read.

“He’s using a figure of speech, babe.” You smile, squeezing his hand. “I have to go pick up his younger self at preschool. Are you gonna help us or not?” You ask.

“Come back by tonight and I should have this all figured out. Let’s just hope for everyone’s sake, my theory works.”

[chaifootsteps]

College anon dropping in to say that the dubs aren't very good. Some, like the french one, sound like the text went through google translate (and the dubbing in general is terrible despite France having a good rep in the industry). The Italian version of Poison is low-key good tho

As for my reaction to Poison, imagine that gif of the happy yellow emoji looking traumatized/dead inside. I stared at the screen wondering what led me to watching this and how ANYONE would think this was a good scene. Vivziepop claiming that the leaks don't represent the full scene was right for once... It was so much worse. I could think of a more tasteful way to picture it in 5 seconds, it isn't that hard. She could have even kept most of the scene, just remove the graphic stuff to keep the suggestive dancing (a smart idea that should have remained subtle) and maybe keep the Val part à la Addict to show that, yeah, on top of "working" all night (because the graphic scenes made it obvious he stopped "enjoying" work early during the night), Val SA'd him and that shows the entirety of the hell he's going through. It explains why he breaks down and lashes out. Viv didn't need to keep most of the SA, the entire thing was implied.

Also episode 4 comes out of left field. Yes, it was foreshadowed since the beginning but why is Angel suddenly returning his calls? We SAW him ignore Val. He clearly HATES him. Since when is Husk calling him out and badgering him about being "fake"?? They've known each other for a WEEK. It's way too early for that. It's like we're missing 3-4 episodes of development in-between. Angel reconnecting with Val and showing hints that this is indeed a facade, Husk knowing a lot about everyone and giving a damn... This should be a mid-end of season arc for Angel. I'd personally make it end of season 1 so that he can show change during season 2, beginning as someone new, someone who slowly tries to show he cares and let down his bravado in small amounts, with clear hints of being a little scared of the reactions, until it naturally becomes his full-time persona. Maybe have Charlie notice at some point and subtly encourage him, DELIGHTED (in caps because that girl is extra) that Angel is getting better but having to keep her excitement in in fear of scaring him off (because Charlie should have SOME sort of emotional intelligence ffs).

Loser, Baby feels out of place. This is NOT the appropriate reaction to Angel's words. Did they rewrite the dialogue but not the song?? Here's how it sounds:

Angel: I feel like I've gotta be Val's perfect whore all the time so I'm trying to break myself enough he will be alone—

Husk: Well, it's okay to be a loser, baby! Look at me, I'm a failure too. You ain't special and it's okay!

....So Angel is a loser/failure/broken but Val is still into him??? Did they realize that this should send him the wrong message?! That Val will "love" him no matter what and that Angel cannot be free, that he's been making himself miserable for NOTHING?? First of all, Husk's greediness and addictions are NOTHING like Angel's situation. He signed with his real name. That alone implies that Val snatched him early on as he arrived. On top of that, he's being abused every way possible on the regular, for no fault of his own, and is self-destructing. He cannot kill himself and Val won't let him be killed. This is NOTHING like Husk losing a game for more power and being forced to be a bartender.

Here's how it should have gone for the song to work:

Angel: So?! The real me is a good for nothing loser who died in a ditch from some shitty coke! THIS is the famous, hotter than Hell pornstar that everyone wanna fuck! And I've— I've gotta be the part. 'Cause if I'm not... If I ain't then who am I?

Angel's fear should have been about being seen as who he was, as some loser that nobody loved. Let him feel like he beat his father, that now he's someone so suck it dad! You were wrong! Let Angel behave as if his life was a porn movie because that's all he knows now and what he thinks he should be like. Instead of trying to ruin himself so that Val discards him, have him try to be perfect... Because that'll stop the abuse, right? Val is happy when he acts like that. The perverts worship him. No one cares about Anthony.

That would make Loser, Baby work. It would achieve its goal of saying "it's okay to suck, we all do! Look at me, I'm a loser but my life isn't over!" and get Angel to accept that he's enough as he is. If you add in a few episodes beforehand to set it up, it could have worked better instead of being insensitive.

Personally I would have entirely changed the Angel/Val dynamic. Val can still be a whiny bitch but not in a drama queen way as is implied. He gets like that whenever he loses control of his favorite. Have one of the Vees groan and say something about Angel having done something as if it happened often. Make them used to Val throwing a fit because he didn't get what he wanted out of Angel or because he's having a jealousy fit. It already makes Val more controlling. It'll make the messages scene hit harder as, yeah, we can see why Angel left, the dude is unstable and obsessed. I'd be a little more fucked-up and have Angel kinda love him. Ofc in the Stockholm Syndrome way, he's been abused so much he's too attached to leave. That shift in dynamic would explain why he eventually goes back despite everything. Like in the show, he feels ignored in favor of the new resident and the way he's dismissed and talked about makes him feel like shit. He checks his phone again and ends up listening to Val's new voice messages... And this time, they're sickeningly sweet in a row. He's sorry, he's begging for him to come back. He loves him. And that's enough for Angel to go out or answer him. Put a few episodes in-between where Angel seems... Off? How weird, he's jumpy, more on his phone. He's out for parts of the episodes or clearly focused on something else. Then we get episode 4, where everyone culminates to show how bad the situation is for him. I'd personally not have Val hit him. He's smart enough to not leave bruises on his top whore. However, he's manipulative and threatening. There's no doubt that he COULD hit Angel whenever, especially with the way he cowers. Angel tries to diffuse the situation, so well that it's heartbreaking, and he gets bold. That line when he doesn't reply "Yes Val" is meant with silence as we wait for Val's reaction, waiting for him to blow up. A beat. He doesn't. He's not calm but he's not as angry. He's not going to hit him. He thanks Angel, touching him while the other flinches, a hint that he handles Angel roughly in this kind of situation, and just as Angel looks relieved, he announces that he'll have to work all night, distressing Angel again.

Ofc that would require extensive research and talk to specialists to do it well. Viv's audience can be stupid so it's more of a struggle to make it clear that none of this is Angel's fault and to not romantize this shit but it's more interesting than Val being so obviously abusive. IMHO he almost transformed into someone else in that episode and it could work but we didn't see enough of him to go "oh that's the old abuser trick! he's not as nice as he is with others when he's with his victim!". Idk how to put it sensibly but the impression he gave me was "whiny manchild who sadly was given enough power by Daddy Vox to abuse someone" instead of the intended "terrifying Overlord who is unstable and abusing his power to abuse whichever worker he fancies at the moment". I dunno Chai I just think it would work better if he were more manipulative and welding his power in other ways than by force. Like Angel isn't scared by his strength but by his influence. Also I would low-key find a way to make it so that Angel, mistakenly, thinks he can get away with some things to explain how he'd leave for the Hotel. Like having him not be a perfect victim. While he tries to cater to Val and keep him happy out of fear (and/or care because abuse fucks you up), he sometimes provokes him or tries to do his own thing. It'd show he's his own person and stuff. Sadly that would be lost on Viv's stans and it would absolutely spark some victim-shaming stuff or worse. But I think if she's gonna try to portray something like this, she could do with some nuance and not so... Cliché? Of course, it happens like this to too many people but it feels like she's applying a trope with no thought into it. The most cookie-cutter depiction she could do for quick satisfaction or to tick that case. A bit like how Stolitz is a mix of multiple tropes and is a terribly done version of that trope where a noble falls in love with someone whose class is lower with a sprinkle of badly done transactional relationship that sparks feelings. Thinking of HB, HH has better representation of abuse but not by much. I feel like if Stella was a man, she'd have written it this way? It felt like fetish fuel hiding underneath the surface whereas Stella was lazy writing.

I dunno man, I wanted to rant about Charlie and her design but episode 4 hit me like a wall of bricks

Thank you for all of this, College Anon. This was a great read, and you're right, the Italian version of Poison goes so much harder than the English.

Also Italian Val's voice is...yeah, 10/10 stars on that one. Mama mia.