#why would I still let him rail me?? thinking emoji

[nickfowlerrr]

After the last capital…

I’ve this scenario in my head :

Bucky and you are back to the old habit and arguing about something again… but you stand on the last step of the stairs and he is done with you (he wants to go upstairs to get his phone before he would leave) and pushes you beside but as clumsy as you are, you Trip and fell.

Bucky would be so mad at him self, because you’re hurt because of him again😩😩😩😩

hurt

pretty when you cry series masterlist

pairing: pwyc!bucky x curvy!reader

warnings: not really any? let me know if i need to add something pls! this fic is part of a series, and if you plan on reading it, please, please, please use caution and read all of the warnings!

words: 1.8k

notes: ten thousand years later lol thank you for sending this in! honestly i don't see pwyc!bucky even just lightly shoving reader especially after he made her fall last time lmao he's much more likely to just pick you up and move you out of his way instead but for the sake of the prompt, let's just go with it. <3 i'm on my laptop, so no emojis :(

"Where are you going?" you asked tensely, running around him to block his way to the stairs, the worry in your voice was evident, and even if it hadn't been, you knew he could sense the stress you were feeling. You stood on the last step, not letting him walk up the stairs. "You're not even trying to see things from my perspective," you accused, fully on the defensive.

He was fuming, blue eyes near scorching as he stared you down, jaw set and nostrils flaring. You knew you were edging too far, but you couldn't stop yourself, you couldn't let this go without being able to explain.

"How the fuck did you think I'd feel about this?"

You balked.

"I didn't- I, I don't," you fumbled for the right words, for an explanation but deep down you knew the truth. He had every right to be angry and you had no excuse. You knew how he'd feel about it, and that's why you tried to keep it from him.

"I'm not doing this with you right now," he bit out, moving to push past you. You were going to move to give him space to get past, not wanting to upset him anymore than you already had, but as you sidestepped, your socks slide on the wooden step and unsteadied you right when Bucky stepped up. His arm bumping into you when you were already off kilter and slipping on the step had you falling completely.

Your arm flailed out to grab onto the railing, trying to right yourself, but it did more harm than good as your feet slipped off the step. You had turned your body while trying to grab the rail and so instead of your ass hitting the stairs, your hip hit the edge of the step below you hard as you fell with a thud, and your elbow near simultaneously making contact with the step above you in the fall.

It happened in a second, and though he saw you wobbly, Bucky didn't help get you steady before you fell, assuming you'd get your balance. The instant he realized you weren't stopping yourself, it was too late to grab you.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he stormed, madder at himself for letting you fall now than he was about the argument.

"Ow," you huffed under your breath, grabbing your elbow and you sat up on the step, not bothering to look up at him. He was moving before you even registered him getting closer, pulling you up by your arm to stand. You were too embarrassed and maybe a little too scared to meet his eye, rubbing your elbow again when he let go of his hold on your arm.

You could feel his eyes dead set on you but still, you kept yours to the ground, swallowing thickly.

"Bucky, I'm sorry," you apologized, dejected. "My mom stopped asking about my love life a long time ago and I just- I don't know, I never thought to bring it up. It's not something I'm used to sharing-" you tried to explain before he cut you off.

"Stop," Bucky said harshly, your voice dying immediately.

You dared to peek up at him and were met with a torn look in his normally brighter blues. There was anger and hurt, and if you weren't reading into things, you'd say there might be regret, too.

"Are you okay?"

"I- yeah. I'm fine," you answered, uneasily.

He looked at you a moment longer before he continued up the stairs. You stood there not knowing what to do, considering following him or just leaving him be until he was willing to talk. You didn't come to a decision before he came back down not thirty seconds later. He'd shrugged his jacket on as he came down the steps and your breathing caught in your throat, heart rate picking up. Where was he going?

His narrowed eyes shot to you, and judging by the look you saw there, it was clear he was obviously still upset. "I'm going to the gym."

As he passed you, you grabbed his arm and he stopped on the bottom step you had previously been occupying. You were a step above him, allowing you to be about eye level with him as you meekly met his eye. You opened your mouth to say something but closed it when you accepted you shouldn't.

His glare eased up just the slightest as he considered you before he spoke again.

"I'm pissed off," he glowered as he said your name harshly, "I don't need your reasons why, I really don't want to fucking hear it.

I can't be around you right now. We're either going to end up fighting or fucking and either way you're gonna get hurt, because I am pissed the fuck off," he nearly snarled the reiteration. "So we're not doing this right now," he kept walking and you let go of his arm, watching solemnly as he grabbed his keys and headed for the front door.

"I love you," you quavered pathetically as he pulled open the door, stepping outside. He paused just a moment.

"Do you?" he shot you a heartbreaking look as you floundered at his response. Of course you did. He knew that. He felt it, undeniably. But, his words served their purpose. You fucked up and you hurt him. And he wasn't going to just let you off the hook this time and comfort you and tell you all was forgiven. It was the same thing time and time again. He needed you to deal with the fallout, alone, to get you to see that.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, he wanted to change his mind, go back inside, or at the very least tell you he loved you, too. But he couldn't.

He meant what he said earlier. He'd already let you get hurt on the stairs when he didn't help you the moment he saw you start to slip, something he never would've let happen if he wasn't so caught up in the anger and hurt swirling around in his head. If he stayed and you fought, he knew he'd say something without thinking and only make matters worse; and even if you didn't fight, he knew he'd be on you in an instant with the pent up emotions he was trying to keep at bay so he didn't go off on you completely. And he couldn't trust himself not to take things too far with you. You'd nearly passed out on him the last time you had anger fueled sex, he could still remember the nasty bruises he hadn't meant to leave you littered all over your skin and how sore you were for the few days after. The orgasms were incredible, but he didn't want to risk injury to you just to release some of the frustration he was feeling. That's what the boxing gym was for.

You'd talk when he got home and was a little more level headed, and hopefully you'd have come to a decision on what you were going to tell your family. He couldn't wrap his head around why you'd never so much as mentioned his name to them in the year since you'd been together. Like he was your dirty little secret, something you were ashamed of. The first few months he could understand, not even taking into consideration that you were soulmates and that should have prompted a quicker reveal to your family, but a whole year? He'd spoken to your sister multiple times when she'd facetime you and the entire time, she had no clue you and him were together. He wanted to know what lies you'd been telling her to avoid admitting the truth, but he knew that'd probably only piss him off more. He needed the time to cool off before he went back and had that conversation with you.

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

The door to your room opened gently as you glanced at the time, wanting to gripe about him coming home so late, but knowing you had no right to be the one who was upset tonight. You sat up and turned the bedside lamp on to give him some light. You nibbled your lip as you watched him, his hair was damp and he was dressed in a new change of clothes. He had his gym bag with him as he dropped it heavily by the closet, certainly needing to pack it with a new post workout outfit for the next time he would decide to shower at the gym, like he obviously had tonight.

Probably killing time before he inevitably had to come home to see you. Another flood of guilt and regret rolling through you.

"I told them," you informed him softly, his eyes glancing over to you before he walked toward the bed, his face not betraying whatever it was he was feeling. "And I'm sorry-"

"Shhhh."

You obeyed his wordless request as he climbed into his side of the bed, your eyes intent on his every move.

"I'm exhausted, and I'm not ready to talk about this tonight," he said as he moved the blanket to lay down. "Just come here," he coaxed with a huff, pulling you closer. You were pouting without even realizing it. There was a lot you wanted to say, but you stayed quiet. If he still needed time before he wanted to talk, you had to be okay with that.

As he pulled you closer, you wrapped your arms around him, cuddling into him, having sorely needed his comfort from the second he'd left earlier.

He sighed heavily as he rested his hand on your hip, you winced almost imperceptibly, but of course he caught it. He rubbed at your hip carefully as you laxed into him, his touch soothing.

"I'm sorry I made you fall," he apologized, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"'S not your fault,"

"Me bumping into you is what made you slip,"

"My socks made me slip. Granted, the nudge certainly didn't help, but," you smiled soft and fleeting. "I'm fine. Not your fault."

There was a moment of silence between you then before Bucky broke it.

"I'm still upset at you."

You knew he was, but hearing him say it out loud somehow made your guilt ten times worse. You tried to pull away, wanting to give him space, but he held you tighter. "No, don't," he told you.

You stopped trying and instead buried your head in his chest as he held you. "We'll talk in the morning," he said, and you nodded against him in agreement. He turned the lamp out and when he settled down again, you tilted your head up so your lips were just against his ear.

"I do love you," you whispered before placing a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek. You settled against him once again, his arms holding you as your head laid on his chest.

"I know," he said, his hands running up and down your back. "And I love you. Now go to sleep," he rumbled as he fixed the blanket around your bodies, content to rest in your mutual embrace for the night.

You had a lot to discuss come morning.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

oh I want so badly to send you more bed emojis because now I really wanna see the breakup... but I also wanna see how off the rails loop 8 is going to go... and Eddie taking the phone call at work... AND him coming out to Chris by accident... there's so much going on! 🤩

🔼◀️🔽▶️🔼◀️🔽▶️🔼◀️🔽▶️🔼

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

Sending it all your way!

39 for 🔼:

---

 “You could have asked me. I’d… I’d help you out. I’d take care of you.”

Shannon’s eyes widen. “Eddie…”

“I can still,” he offers. “I can… You can pretend it’s him.”

Her eyebrows nearly fly off her forehead. 

“Eddie, I-”

“You can pretend it’s both of us,” he tacks on quickly.

Maybe that last part is just for him. 

She pauses. Her brows furrow again. Her lips purse a little, as she thinks on what he’s saying. 

“Both of you?” She echoes eventually. 

She sounds curious. Eddie’s not sure if the curiosity is directed at the prospect of both or the fact that Eddie is the one suggesting it. Fair enough, if it’s the latter. He knows he’s not supposed to think things like this, let alone voice them. 

Eddie only nods in response. 

Please don’t ask anything else about it, he wills her. 

“That’s… That’s something you’re into?” Shannon asks. 

Fuck. 

“Shannon, please,” he begs her. 

He’s not begging for sex. He’s begging for avoidance. Those come part and parcel for them. Always have. 

Shannon nods. 

“Okay,” she whispers. “But… Eddie, it doesn't’ change-”

“I know,” he interrupts. Because he does. He knows. 

---

33 for ➰:

Tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Thank fuck. It was him again, and he didn’t have to watch it be Eddie or Chris. Though, he feels bad for Eddie. 

His second thought is, wait a minute. It was him. Again. Why was it him again?

He doesn’t want to make it sound like he wants someone else to have a turn dying. He doesn’t. He would actually like to avoid it. But he’s died four anomalous ways now. When really, at most, statistically, he should’ve only died two of those times. If it could be any of them. He supposes he doesn’t know how many of them died in the car accident. That could have been all three. But there’s been nothing else like that. 

It’s always Buck. 

It’s only Buck. 

Is it only Buck?

And if it is, does that mean Eddie lied? Why would Eddie lie? It doesn’t really change the predicament, no matter who died or didn’t die, outside this loop. Either way, they’re stuck. So Eddie probably didn’t lie. Right?

Buck  rolls over in bed, away from the bright red digital clock face, to where Eddie is still sleeping, arm slung over Buck’s waist. He nudges him awake, a little abruptly.

“Eddie?” Buck says. “Hon?”

 Eddie’s eyes flutter open. Two pools of sun-melted gold. 

“You okay?” He mumbles. 

---

18 for 🛏️:

---

“Wow… Uh, are you okay?” Eddie asks.

“Yes,” Buck nods. “Completely fine. Question for you.”

He’s probably not completely fine but his brain is still buzzing from everything that’s just happened. He’s hopped up on adrenaline and indignation. 

“For me?” Eddie replies.

“No, the other you.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “What’s the question?”

“You like It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” Buck assumes. They’ve watched it together. This isn’t the question. 

“Well, duh,” Eddie nods. 

“We’re not Charlie and Frank,” Buck posits.

---

15 for 🦷:

---

“Nothing,” Eddie answers. “Some Tylenol 3s. Cool water.”

“That’s sad,” Chris observes.

“It was fine,” Eddie shrugs.

“But you’re still buying me all this to make me feel better?” Christopher motions to the stuffed shopping basket. 

“Well, yeah,” Eddie replies. “I want you to have everything you want. I want you to feel comforted tomorrow.”

“But you didn’t feel comforted?” Christopher asks. “When you had your wisdom tooth surgery?”

“Well, no,” Eddie replies. “I didn’t.”

[take-taker-taken]

hey there, "first time asker" is back! i'm so glad i that i was able to inspire something last time:).

i recently had another idea: so it would be shawn x taker again (i'm sorry i just love these two so much). this time a little more explicit? so taker is usually very dominant and a big fan of tying shawn up. this time tho, shawn wants to tie him up for a change and taker agrees. but we all know that shawn is the biggest tease known to man(kind sorry i couldn't resist). taker then loses his patience. but we all know that he is somewhat of a supernatural being, so he manages to undo the restraints without shawn noticing. now its time for taker to reverse the roles and have his way with shawn.

again any era you want and if you want to add or remove something go ahead. hope your cold is gone by now :)

Hellooooo, second time asker! Here is your fic - sorry that it took me so long and I hope it hits the spot! Feel free to picture whichever era you most prefer!

Give & Take - Interrupted

Shawn pounces on Taker right after he walks in the door, wrapping his arms around the bigger man’s waist and stretching up for a kiss that very quickly becomes heated.

“Someone’s keen,” he comments when Shawn finally lets him up for air.

“Well, if you will insist on sending me suggestive texts in the middle of the afternoon…” Shawn says with a smile.

“Suggestive? It was a few little pictures, that’s all.” Despite his flippant reply, Taker’s hands slide down to cup Shawn’s pert ass.

“They’re called emojis,” Shawn says, planting a lazy kiss on his lover’s neck. “And it was that special one that you use - as you well know.”

Unseen by the blonde who’s still nuzzling at his throat, Taker smiles. “Yeah, OK - you got me. I’m a bad man.”

Shawn leans back so that he can look Taker in the eye. “Nah. You’re actually very good. But… I don’t suppose…” He trails off and worries at his bottom lip with his teeth.

Even though it’s obvious that Shawn is plotting, the big man takes the bait as he gently lifts his thumb to the blonde’s mouth and frees the lip before it gets hurt. “Don’t suppose that what?” He prompts.

“I was thinking… maybe we could change things up tonight?” He does his best puppy dog eyes when he adds, “And I could be the one to tie you up?”

Taker looks at Shawn for a long minute as though searching for any trace of an attempt at ribbing but all he sees is wide, honest blue eyes. And so he nods.

“Sure, why not?” His cold heart melts a little at the excited smile that appears on Shawn’s face and he can’t help adding, “But I’m not calling you ‘sir’.”

“No. No, that would be weird,” Shawn agrees quickly and then settles into Taker’s arms again happily and makes a soft, contented little sound when Taker leans down and kisses the top of his head.

“Uhh, put your hands up over your head,” Shawn says, eyeing the railings of the headboard and toying with handfuls of rope. Having already had each of his feet bound to the bottom of the bed Taker silently complies, holding loosely on to the rails and Shawn has to take a minute to just drink him in. Sure, he sees his partner naked all the time, but rarely on display like this. Taker is a big guy and the position he’s in right now shows all the definition in his huge arms. Shawn wants to lay down on him with that broad chest as a pillow and sink his teeth into those pecs… and then he realises that he can. Still wearing his jeans, he drapes the length of rope around his neck and crawls on to the bed, straddling Taker’s hips. He leans forward and begins to wind the rope around the bigger man’s wrists - his work isn’t as neat as Taker’s but he’s sure it’ll be just as effective. He wraps and knots it around the railings as best he can and then places his hands on Taker’s chest, splaying his fingers out across the pecs.

“Does it feel OK? Not too tight?” He asks the same thing that Taker always says when their roles are reversed.

The big man raises a dark eyebrow. “It’s fine,” he says. “But then, it’s not like I have regular circulation.”

Shawn gives a small shrug in capitulation and then digs his fingers into Taker’s flesh slightly and wriggles backwards. His gaze leaves the green eyes and roves across the broad chest below him and then he does it - he dips his head and mouths at the big man’s left pec just above the nipple before gently biting down.

Taker lets out a breathy moan the sort of which he’s never heard him make before and Shawn looks up in surprise.

“You like that?” He tries to keep his tone in check and sound more confident than questioning.

“Yeah,” Taker replies, his voice sounding a little strained. “I like it just fine.”

Shawn understands his stoic lover well enough to know that liking something ‘just fine’ actually translates as, ‘give me more of that right now’. He briefly considers making Taker ask him to do it again but decides against it as while that’s exactly the kind of thing the big man would do to him, he has a feeling it would just send his partner retreating into his shell. So instead, he dips back down and bites again - harder this time, to the point of leaving teethmarks. He’s rewarded with another moan and so he begins to devour Taker’s chest like a starving man, licking and biting his way across it.

By the time he sits back up Taker’s eyes are closed, he’s breathing rapidly and his skin is pink and covered with marks. Also, his dick is as hard as a rock, which Shawn notices when his ass bumps against it and he smirks a little.

“Guess you really liked it, huh?”

Taker’s eyes snap open and Shawn startles as he notices that the other man’s pupils are blown so wide, his eyes look nearly black.

“Enough teasing now.” Taker flexes his arms and stares hungrily at the blonde wriggling on his lap. “You got it like that, so now you can take care of it.”

“All in good time,” Shawn replies, with a cheeky wink as he shuffles backwards. He wriggles his jeans and boxers off and then lays down on his stomach between Taker’s legs in order to be properly on a level with ‘it’. He rests his chin on his hands as he takes some time to admire the delectable treat in front of him, while his partner stares impatiently down the line of his body, glaring at the smug blonde.

Shawn reaches out and wraps his hand around the base, guiding the column towards him before sticking his tongue out and licking steadily from root to tip. He presses his tongue hard against the flesh, feeling it track over the thick vein while at the same time feeling Taker’s thighs tense beneath his hand. He’s sure that he hears a creak from the head of the bed.

In a bid to quell any sense of mutiny from above, he takes the spongy head into his mouth and sucks hard which automatically causes the bigger man to thrust upwards, chasing the pressure. Shawn merely moves with him and continues to tease, curling his tongue around to tickle at the frenulum as a muffled growl is heard from above.

“I told you enough teasing,” Taker’s words come from between gritted teeth. “Take it down your throat.”

“I told you all in good time,” Shawn counters, emboldened by the safety of distance. “I wanna play a little first, and then I’ll slide right down on it.”

“I’ll remember this,” Taker grumbles, flexing his fingers.

Shawn dips his head to hide a smile. “I’m counting on that,” he answers and then noses at Taker’s balls before licking and nipping at the sac while he reaches up with his right hand to slowly jack the now weeping erection. This earns a few sharp intakes of breath as his victim struggles to adjust to the new sensation.

“C’mon, baby…” Taker’s voice is soft now, cajoling. “You know you want to take me all the way…”

Shawn’s head pops back up in almost comic fashion but the smirk on his face is predatory. His expression matches his actions as he crawls slowly back up Taker’s body, making sure to let his muscled abs drag against the bigger man’s dick on the way.

Taker closes his eyes against the insanely erotic sight of his lover advancing upon him and presses his lips together to prevent any kind of sound escaping. He knows that he shouldn’t do what he’s currently considering… That is, using his powers in the bedroom, right now… it wouldn’t be in the spirit. On the other hand, Shawn has now reached his chest and has begun to bite and suck on his left nipple while simultaneously pinching his right. Unnggh.

Decision made.

It takes Shawn nearly a full minute to realise that something is… not wrong, exactly - just different. He’s laying atop the big man having transferred his attentions from nipples to neck and he’s happily nuzzling away there when the familiar, huge arms wrap around him and a kiss is pressed to the side of his head. The big hands slide down his back and then cup his ass and squeeze before-

Hang on a second!

He scrambles to an upright position, to find Taker’s hands very much no longer tied and a quick glance behind him confirms that while his legs are still spread, his ankles are also free. Taker at least has the good grace to look a bit sheepish and he shrugs awkwardly.

“I got impatient?” He offers as Shawn folds his arms and pouts down at him. “The worst torture was not being able to touch you…”

Shawn can’t get mad - he’s still feeling a little high from the dose of power that he was given and so he leans down and kisses Taker gently.

“Well, now you can touch all you want.”

Taker raises a hand to hold the back of Shawn’s head as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into the blonde’s mouth as the smaller man whimpers his submission. As soon as he breaks the kiss, he rolls them in one movement so that their positions are reversed and he stares down into bright blue eyes that seem to be begging him to take charge. He pins the slim wrists to the bed and when he feels Shawn push against the hold he tightens his grip and watches with satisfaction as he shudders.

“Wh.. what are you gonna do with me?” Shawn asks, a tremor in his voice that even if it’s only done for effect, goes straight to Taker’s dick.

Taker doesn’t answer at first - just uses his grip on each wrist to push Shawn’s arms out wide and then dares him with a Look to move as he lets go and untangles the rope from the headboard’s rails. He quickly and efficiently completes the ties and then asks Shawn to confirm that nothing is too tight. Comfort established, Taker drifts the tips of his fingers down the blonde’s arms, watching them tense as he reaches that ticklish spot on each armpit before finally replying.

“I’m going to make you beg, boy toy.”

Shawn can’t prevent the low whine that’s a combination of lust and trepidation. Taker smirks at the noise, leans down and proceeds to visit upon Shawn exactly what was done to him. He flicks his tongue over the heaving chest and then sinks his teeth slowly into one perfect pec. He takes time to appreciate how the flesh feels under his bite, increasing the pressure until he’s sure that imprints will be left behind. Shawn’s head thrashes from side to side as the torrent of pain-pleasure is inflicted upon him.

He teases the blonde’s nipples, the very tip of his tongue dancing insistently over the hard little peaks and then turns his attention to Shawn’s neck. He takes a good handful of his lover’s hair and uses it to hold his head back as he kisses and bites his throat. Shawn mewls quietly as he’s devoured, straining at the ropes just to feel the restraint more fully.

“Please,” He gasps out when Taker finally kneels back up, watching him writhe impatiently.

“Please, what?”

Shawn’s dick twitches at the prompt and he swallows before replying, “Please, sir…”

Taker smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Please, sir… what?”

Shawn bunches his hands into fists, knowing that it will make his biceps flex a little. “I want… Can I come, sir?”

Taker laughs quietly and merely shakes his head ‘no’, before shifting forwards and offering his dick up to Shawn’s lips. “Open up, boy toy; let’s put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Shawn’s eyes close as he takes his lover’s erection into his mouth and caresses the underside with his tongue. Taker thrusts gently, letting out a quiet grunt of his own as Shawn’s teeth softly scrape over his flesh. “Look at me,” he commands and his heart swells just a little when the blue eyes flutter open and meet his own. Taker holds on to the top rail of the headboard and slowly fucks Shawn’s mouth for a while - never pushing too far, just enjoying as much as the position allows.

Eventually he withdraws and stands up, making his way to the foot of the bed, trailing his fingertips along Shawn’s torso and down his leg as he goes. He stands and contemplates the gorgeous creature on the bed, all mussed-up hair and whimpers.

“That looks uncomfortable,” Taker says, with a nod towards Shawn’s straining dick. As if performing on cue, a bead of pre-come leaks out of the dark red slit and dribbles down over the head. “Want me to do something with it?”

Shawn nods rapidly. “Yes, sir - please. God, yes!”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Taker drops forward, catching himself on his hands and then leans over to lick up the drip running down the side of Shawn’s dick. The blonde shouts in surprise and Taker has to clamp his hands down on the smaller man’s legs to prevent him from moving too much. Far from backing off at the extreme reaction, Taker instead captures the weeping head in his mouth and swirls his long tongue around it a couple of times before sucking hard, drawing back off it with a pop.

Shawn’s hips thrust up pathetically despite Taker’s hold and he looks confused that all the bigger man has done is make matters worse. “Wha..?”

“Said I’d do something with it. Not get rid of it.” Shawn looks bereft which just makes Taker smile. “Didn’t I say that I’d remember what you did to me just now?” Somewhat defeated, Shawn nods as he grasps the bars of the headboard. He looks so pitiful that Taker decides to progress things and crosses to the bedside cabinet to retrieve the lube. He very deliberately holds Shawn’s gaze as he squeezes some out on to his hand to warm and then steps up close, tapping the nearest thigh as a signal to bend his knees.

He gently pushes a well-lubed finger into Shawn, working it in and out while the blonde lets out the most adorable breathy little moans.

“Like this part, don’t you?”

“L - like all of it, si-ahh!” Shawn’s response is cut off to a gasp as Taker chooses that moment to add a second finger. “God, that feels so good…” He writhes and pulls against the ropes as Taker seeks out that little bundle of nerves and presses insistently. The pleasurable burn as he’s carefully stretched is all-consuming and he begins to feel as though he’ll come from Taker’s fingers alone.

“You look good all spread out like that,” Taker comments. He twists his hand around and gently scissors his fingers inside Shawn’s grasping heat and the smaller man mewls.

“Please… Fuck me sir, please!”

“You sure you’re ready?”

Shawn nods rapidly in response. “Please!” He says again, thrusting his hips up.

Taker has half a mind to make him wait, but truth be told he’s more than ready himself and so he withdraws his fingers and then slathers more lube on to his dick. As a final tease he bites his way along one of Shawn’s thighs and then kneels on the bed, hooking his hands behind the blonde’s knees. He lines up and then pushes slowly in, gritting his teeth against the squeeze and intense heat until he bottoms out. He takes a few moments to adjust and then draws back, the beginning of a torturously slow fuck.

Shawn stares up at the man above him, relishing the feeling of being completely owned as he’s held in position. Sure, the idea of topping had been fun but nothing can beat this, he’s sure of it.

“Faster…” The words slip out unbidden and result in Taker ceasing to move altogether.

“You giving orders now?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and serious expression.

“N - no, sir. I just… so good…” Shawn bites his bottom lip and does his best to look contrite.

“That’s what I thought,” Taker says and starts to move again. He moves his left hand from behind Shawn’s knee and places it loosely about the smaller man’s throat. “Your job is to lay there and take it. What are you?”

The question takes Shawn by surprise and at first he’s not sure what Taker’s looking for so he blinks, swallows and hopes for the best before replying,

“I’m your boy toy, sir.”

A mildly satisfied smirk turns up the corner of Taker’s mouth and he rewards Shawn with a few rapid thrusts to stab against his prostate before returning to the previous slow pace.

“What else?”

Shawn swallows again, his stomach flip-flopping before he closes his eyes with faux-shame and quietly answers, “A slut, sir.”

Taker gives Shawn’s throat a gentle squeeze. “Whose slut?”

Shawn’s eyes fly open, expression mildly panicked as though he’s desperate not to be misunderstood. “Yours - your slut.”

“Damn right,” Taker mutters and again rewards the admission with more rapid thrusts. “What else?”

Shawn lets out a small whimper as the pace backs off again and then looks Taker right in the eyes as with more intensity he says, “Your whore, sir.”

This time the increased speed is maintained and Taker shifts his hand from the slim throat to Shawn’s chest, plucking hard at his nipples.

“One of these days I’m gonna label you up with those names,” he says darkly. “Get a Sharpie out and spend a while marking ‘em out on you.” Shawn’s chest heaves and Taker knows he’s imagining that act taking place and so he goes on. “We’ll go out for dinner, real civilised, but you and me will both know that under your shirt you’re branded with all those dirty names that you love.”

“Fuck… please, sir. Please let me come?”

“You’ll wait ‘til you’re told, boy toy.” Taker puts his hand back behind Shawn’s knee, using it to anchor him in place for more vigorous treatment. He’s close himself but there’s no way he’s going to admit that so soon.

Beneath him Shawn looks down the line of his body at his dripping cock, the head weeping and red and wonders whether he’s capable of obeying.

Returning vaguely to the evening’s apparent theme Taker adds, “Bet you’d let me fuck you in front of the whole locker room, huh? You’d let everyone know that you’re all mine, to do whatever I want with, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes! God, yes, sir - want everyone to know - know that I’m yours!”

“Good boy.” Taker slows the pace but gives several deep thrusts, aiming them to hit Shawn’s prostate and grunts with satisfaction when his moans of pleasure become shouts. “Might even put a collar on you - nice one with a pretty tag that tells everyone who you belong to.”

Shawn squeezes his eyes shut, a thought fleeting through his brain about whether Taker might let him choose the colour. “Please, sir… please… I don’t know if I can… fuck, please!”

Without missing a beat Taker grabs the lube and gets a dose on to his hand before grasping Shawn’s cock and sliding it up and down. Shawn sobs and clings to the bed rail for dear life as he cries out desperately and Taker can’t help but feel some pity.

“Go ahead, boy toy - come for me.”

With a shout of relief Shawn lets go, his release shooting out in an arc as Taker milks him expertly even when the fluttering of his channel triggers the bigger man’s climax, making his hips stutter and shove hard against the blonde. The two of them are falling together in a bubble of perfect pleasure and as they eventually come down from the peak a silence settles over the room. Breaths slowly return to normal and having slipped out of Shawn, Taker crawls up over him once more and undoes the ties. As soon as his arms are free Shawn wraps them around the broad back and plants a kiss on to Taker’s shoulder.

“Can I choose the colour?”

Taker lifts his head in order to look down at smiling blonde. “Huh?”

“The collar. Can I choose the colour?”

Taker huffs out a laugh and kisses the tip of Shawn’s nose. “Nope - it’ll be black leather. But I’ll let you choose the tag, OK?”

Shawn lets out an honest to goodness giggle and nods happily. “Deal.”

[spirit-x-ing]

@arkhampsych CONT. from X

The moment Lorelai disappeared Crane’s posture stiffened. He searched for the source of her disembodied voice with his eyes, but she was nowhere to be seen — she could’ve been anywhere. Instinctively he sought the security of a wall. He began stepping backwards to until he was forced in the opposite direction. He stumbled forward, looking over his shoulder to try and spot Lorelai. In an instant he was rammed back towards the wall, before he could utter a word to reason with the fugitive that appeared before him, he felt something constrict inside his chest.

“ w — ” he stopped, realizing his lung wasn’t expanding to full capacity. Air left him in a wheeze, he frantically gripped Lorelai’s arm and squeezed it as though it meant his life. His eyes widened, they started to burn from lack of oxygen. He cringed, squeezing his eyes shut and coughing out a plea.

Air suddenly flooded his chest. Crane gasped and fell back into the corner connecting his wall and dresser. He slowly dropped to the floor, guarding his re - inflating lung by gripping his chest. He looked at Lorelai warily. Her remorse did little to allay him as he regulated his breathing. After her form faded for a second time he waited, his eyes scanning the room cautiously.

He exhaled and rested his head against the wall and dresser. He’d felt her powers before … but he hadn’t realized how suddenly they could be turned towards taking a life. His adrenaline began to settle. The short burst of alarm he’d felt descended into a pleasant thrill. His lips spread into a tenuous smile as he imagined what could have happened if she’d grabbed another’s heart. He pictured Lorelai slipping into a room of Waller’s agents, reaching through their flesh and squeezing an organ until it ruptured while the other agents panicked and searched for her after she disappeared. that sort of power he needed to destroy Waller.

He took some time away from The Asylum to work on a plan of his own. Taking the black duffel bags he’d packed his equipment in back to his warehouse, he reinstated his lab and began developing more of his toxin. He needed enough to attack Waller and her men — and preferably, a means of dispersing it all at once. He leaned on the gaurd rail of his upper level and removed his respirator, running through his connections. He took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, searching for the number of the demolitions expert he once sought out to level a factory full of evidence. He stopped, there was a number he didn’t recognize.

A little emoji smiling with its tongue out. He scoffed at it, perplexed by which of his connections would add themselves to his contact album under such a character … 𝘰𝘩. He knew exactly who would do something so frivolous. He smiled to himself as he sent,

“ meet me at the warehouse. I have a plan to deal with waller. ”

The feeling was overwhelming as the moment played back in her head. It was like she was a different person. The person Waller would want her to be. How easy it was for her to switch to that person. She felt nothing but shame and guilt. She faintly can remember him gasping for breath, his eyes watering up, she suddenly snapped a hand back to her arm. She looked down at it before letting go, faint bruises can still be seen. She rubbed it a bit confused wondering why didn't it heal already before shaking her head and getting up to take a much-needed shower. 

She was taking a risk, showering in her apartment, but the warm water helped calmed her down and ground her. It helped her think of things she needed to do. She got dressed, talked to her landlord paid the rest of the month's rent. She also sold most of her furniture to him and shipped other personal belongings back to her friends in Louisiana. In the end, she didn't get much for it as checked into a hotel. Dingy, with a shit spring bed mattress, broken medicine cabinet, with blood stains in the carpet near the nightstand. She rolled her eyes it had to do until she can steal back her beloved car.

Night fell as she put her hair up and closed her eyes and immediately felt Doctor Crane's attachment she growled, pushing it aside for a moment, she was concentrating on her car. The one she inherited from her predecessor she smiled feeling the car though its energy felt different. She tilted her head before being pulled in its direction. Her eyes opened as she gasped. She was in a large garage full of other very nice-looking cars. 

❝ Oh...my god, ❞ she breathed out before crossing over. Gorgeous cars were lined up in a huge garage, all of them were in black, however. Her head snapped to her right. Her car a 1969 Chevy Cheville, was now painted black or a gunmetal grey she couldn't tell. Her jaw dropped shocked as she neared. ❝ What!?❞ she let out nearing it to inspect it before pausing. She looked through the window. ❝ Oh, wait...they added a new radio, also a new steering wheel. ❞ Honestly, the car looked a lot better. She scoffed looking for the keys. She found a rack full of keys most of them where new and had the button alarm/lock combo but two didn't. She took the two that didn't and tried them both in. The second one worked as she tossed the others aside and hopped in. 

She heard the engine roar and start-up. Why hotwire her car if there were keys? Unfortunately, she didn't know how to open the garage and that meant she was about to spend some energy ghosting her car through it as she started to drive. She heard the engine roar through the parking garage along with some security system going off. ❝ Woops, ❞ she said before driving along closing her eyes for a moment, pulling her car in and out of the ghostly realm. Its engine sound faded along with it until she drove through. 

❝ Good, ❞ she said, crossing back. Lorelai still had energy to spare as she drove along a dirt path and noticed she was in some mansion or manor. Her jaw dropped wondering who stole her vehicle and later sold it to some rich person who liked everything in black. ❝ Whatever, ❞ she said turning and putting on her high beams before noticing another fence, rod iron, fancy. ❝ Ugh, ❞ she growled frustratedly. She was going to have to take time to eat for sure after this. She suddenly turned on the radio and realized the speakers were also new. She idled for a moment changing stations until she found a song she liked. She nodded bobbing her head as she suddenly heard someone calling out to her. She looked into her rearview mirror spotting some old dude dressed like a butler. 

Lorelai suddenly punched it leaving dust in her wake, driving down the driveway toward the gate. She saw the rod iron gate zooming closer as she took a deep breath and concentrated. The engine's sound faded and the music still played but it was mostly static for a couple of seconds before crossing back. Her head dropped for a second, drained, but she breathed out a smile, this was the third time she stole back her car. ❝ Thanks for the makeover sucker! ❞ she yelled excitedly, hyped up on the thrill of the steal. 

She was driving back to Gotham because this rich person lived outside the city, go figure. Her mind was heading towards a juicy cheeseburger, with fries, and a chocolate shake, before she felt her cell vibrate. Her eyes darted to the side as she blindly reached for her jean's side pocket. She looked at the number and scoffed. ❝ No, ❞ she tossed the phone to the side and continued driving. She entered Gotham and found herself a drive-thru and ordered what she wanted. She waited in line before eyeing her cell phone. She sighed, curiosity getting the best of her. She grabbed her cell and unlocked it reading the message. She scoffed shaking her head.

[ Sorry you got the wrong number. ]

She put it aside before moving up in line. 

[wri0thesley]

whoops i wrote a thing based on your thing

(vague mha spoilers ahoy)

"There should only be two heroes on patrol that day," Hawks insists, adjusting his coat tighter around himself and looking at the poor excuse for a safe house Dabi had directed him to. The outside of this hellhole is falling apart, and the inside isn't much better. The floorboards creak ominously with every step, the windows rattle with the slightest breeze, paint is peeling off the walls, and he can't count the number of suspicious stains on the ceiling (Is that one water? Mold? Blood?). Despite looking on the verge of collapse, the living room is surprisingly tidy. It's obvious that someone has taken up the challenge of making this place barely livable, and it certainly wasn't the burned lunatic beside him.

"What are their quirks?"

Hawks came prepared, already having tipped off the Hero Commission about who to assign. "Water and metal." Dabi slams his fist on the pockmarked table in front of them, clearly annoyed that it's a poor matchup for him, and the rickety construction of this death trap makes half the room rattle.

"Well that's just fucking convenient, isn't it?" He sneers at the hero and narrows his eyes. "It's almost like someone planned it to-"

"Dabi?"

Hawks jumps in his seat, startled by the new voice. He'd assumed they were alone; Dabi didn't seem like the type to trust his random side pieces enough to have a meeting with them in hearing range. He turns automatically to get a better look at you, and freezes.

You're cute, he notices first. Hair disheveled and wearing an oversized night shirt as you walk out of the dark bedroom, rubbing sleep from your eyes and trying to hide a yawn. "It's late, come back." You finally notice the hero sitting on your couch and your body stiffens with concern. He watches you put a hand instinctively over your stomach and fuck, he can't stop the horror from flickering across his face as he realizes how swollen your belly is. No way. No fucking way.

“Yours?” He mouths the question silently, and his stomach drops when the villain smirks and gives a little nod. He’s going to be sick.

Dabi stands and walks over to you, resting a stapled hand on your shoulder to turn you back around. “Doll,” he coos in a voice oozing with fake affection. “You shouldn’t be up, you know it’s not good for either of you.” He taps the swell of your stomach and the innocent, trusting smile you give him makes bile rise in Hawks’ throat. “I’ll be done in a bit, okay?” You glance back at the man in your home as the father of your child practically shoves you through the doorway. “He’s not gonna do anything, I promise.” He makes sure the door is firmly shut before returning to business, a sickening grin on his face. “The fuck are you looking at?”

Hawks fights back the urge to vomit. “Didn’t figure you for the dad type, is all. Congratulations.”

Dabi doesn’t even try to hide his laughter. “You’re smarter than you look, bird boy. Soon as that kid’s out of there, I’m done.” Hawks makes a sound of disgust and Dabi rolls his eyes. “What, like I’m just supposed to stick around and raise it? Happy little family with daddy reading bedtime stories in between bouts of arson?” He cracks himself up.

He doesn’t realize it, but it hits a nerve and the hero’s jaw clenches so hard his teeth might crack. It hits too close to home for him, watching some poor fool with too much sympathy for the wrong person ruin their life trying to be helpful. He knows firsthand how hard that that kind of life is, how badly it can fuck up a kid, it’s almost a relief hearing that the piece of shit doesn’t plan on staying.

“Might as well get what I can out of this arrangement,” Dabi goes on, ignoring the obvious discomfort. “You see how big those tits are? Turns out they’re real overachievers in the milk department, poor thing’s practically begging me to suck it out.” He licks his scarred lips at the thought of it. “Pussy’s still great too, shame the little bastard’s gonna pop out and ruin it.” He sighs, almost regretful at the thought.

Hawks squirms, thoroughly uncomfortable at the conversation and avoids eye contact. “Yeah, sure. I’m just gonna head out and we’ll figure this out later. It is gettin’ pretty late, gotta be out there early tomorrow and keep up appearances, y’know?”

Dabi stares at the bedroom door. “Whatever,” he says without a care until he suddenly turns to him with a sickening grin. “You want a turn before you go?”

Hawks’ eyes widen and he waves off the offer. “I...you want...no. Uh, no thank you.” His face feels hot as he turns to leave, ignoring the unforeseen tightness in his own pants at the invitation. He doesn’t want to think about why the idea is so appealing to him.

Dabi’s quickly distracted and heading back to you. “Your loss, pigeon.” He doesn’t notice Hawks dropping a feather under the couch, he sure as hell won’t be the one cleaning under there later, along with a phone number you can call for help if (when, really) you need it. “Hey doll, rise and shine. Daddy needs to get his dick wet.”

Hawks makes sure to slam the front door loudly, but he can still hear your quiet protests already turning to breathy whines as he makes his way out. There’s a sinking feeling in his guts when he takes flight, wondering if you’ll really be okay the next time he'll see you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Desperate Measures 2

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation, fingering, toyplay, fuck machine, control, overstimulation, cock ring, oral

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: Okay, here’s the last half! 

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Part 1

I can't let this, I can't let this go When I got you right where I want you I been pushing for this for so long

💌

You put your to-go box in the fridge. Your appetite was all but gone after the encounter but Eva barely seemed to notice as her gushing went from the unexpected cameo of America’s hero to Ray again. Another argument meant she was holding out to punish him but you knew it wouldn’t last. She was already incessantly checking her phone.

You sat as she took selfies on Snap and shared them in her passive aggressive way. You knew this dance. She’d keep going until she got a reaction. You took your own phone but hesitated before you lit up the screen. It unlocked as it registered your face and the number over your inbox made you wince.

It was like a story in itself, the unanswered text bubbles lined the rectangle; ‘where’d you go, sweetheart’ to ‘what’s wrong?’ to ‘I will find you’ to ‘you better answer me, sweetheart’. You could almost hear them in Steve’s deep tones and it made you shiver. The phone suddenly vibrated and sent another wave through you.

‘Seven tonight. I’ll meet you in front of the bar,’ the message said tersely.

You lowered the phone as Eva searched for better lighting and angled her phone around as she pouted. You watched her and the phone buzzed again. You looked down at the next message.

‘You answer me, sweetheart.’ Still all you could do was stare blankly until you felt another jolt, ‘either you come to me or I come to you.’

The threat was clear. It wasn’t just about you. He knew you were at Eva’s and you had no doubt he would break through any obstacle between you. You saw him sitting across from you in the restaurant, felt the way his eyes bore into you.

‘Okay,’ you texted back. It was all you could handle.

Eva giggled and flopped down on the sofa, “oooh, Ray is so mad.”

“Uh huh,” you murmured as the heart emoji popped up on your screen.

“I sent him the pic I got with the Captain,” she smirked, “he’s so jealous.”

“Do you two ever stop?” you rolled your eyes and set aside your phone.

“Babe, he might be a jackass but the way he serves--”

“Say no more,” you pointed your thumb down your throat, “please.”

💌

Eva was gone before seven. You were thankful that you wouldn’t need to explain yourself to her but disappointed nonetheless. You walked the block down to the bar and stood by the corner of the low wrought iron fence that lined the busy patio. You held your phone in your hand and hugged yourself with one arm. You felt sick and numb.

You felt a light touch on your elbow and spun. Steve smiled down at you as he wore a ball cap and dark blue jacket. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” he said, “I got a bit held up--”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, finally finding your voice.

“Sweetheart,” he warned as his lips straightened, “I don’t like to be interrupted.”

“I don’t understand,” you hissed, “I just don’t. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“Why I’m doing what? Why I love you? Sweetheart, you need to be better to yourself and if you can’t do that, then I guess I have to,” he tickled your cheek with his fingertips, “are you hungry?”

“No,” you crossed your arms as he glanced over at the patio, “please, just stop. Leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes and his jaw tensed. He swallowed and his hand dropped to your shoulder. His thumb rubbed your shoulder through your light cardigan.

“Don’t be like this,” he said, “after all I’ve done for you. After--”

“I never asked for any of it,” you croaked.

“You interrupt me again,” he squeezed your upper arm and leaned in, “and there will be consequences.”

Your eyes widened and you gaped up at him. He grinned and dropped his hand to take yours. He drew you away from the hedges along the fence and walked you down the street.

“Since you’re not hungry, I guess we can just go home,” he tugged on you as you dragged your feet and you stumbled to catch up. It felt as if he would crush your hand as he stopped by a sleek car and reached into his pocket to unlock it with a chirp, “sweetheart,” his tone was grizzly as he exhaled in frustration, “I don’t like this. This isn’t you.” He opened the door and loomed over you as he lowered his voice to a whisper, “be a good girl.”

He nudged you into the car and you sat heavily as he shut the door with snap. Your hands shook as you turned your phone over and hit the emergency call number. Before you could hit the nine, he was in the driver’s seat and ripped your phone from your grasp. The doors locked with a loud click.

“What do you think the police will do for you?” he growled as he started the car, “do you think they’ll believe you? You think they don’t have a record of all the crazed fangirls who ever followed me around?” he scoffed and reached over to slap your thigh, “buckle up…” he lifted his hand and stroked your neck, “we don’t want you getting hurt, do we?”

You slowly pulled the belt over and buckled it. You were trembling so much it took several tries. You let out a brittle breath and sank back against the seat, “no,” you said quietly as you glanced out the window.

“Good,” he said as he drove with one hand still on your leg, “I only want to keep you safe.”

💌

The walk-up looked like any other on the street. She iron railing along the concrete steps, the faded brick, the frosted glass slats of the front door, and the twisted metal numbers just above the mailbox. Steve walked behind you and kept you trapped between him and the door as he unlocked it.

You entered if just to get away from him and he calmly locked the door as he followed. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it with his cap on the hook along the wall. He waited and crossed his arms as he watched you expectantly. You hesitated and pulled off your cardigan. He took it and draped it beside his jacket.

You froze and stared at the shoe rack. There were several pairs of women’s shoes in the cubbies and the hooks not only held his own jackets, but at least two meant for a female counterpart. You took a step back and peered around. Your blood turned to ice as you saw yourself smiling back from a photo; a picture printed out from your social media.

“I’m still working on some things,” he said as he followed your gaze and adjusted the frame on the hook, “of course, you can bring some stuff over to make it more homey.”

“What…” the air rushed from your lungs and your head spun.

You backed up and caught yourself on the wall. You were losing your mind. This couldn’t be real. None of it. He was crazy.

“Let me show you around,” he didn’t seem to notice your distress, or he just didn’t care. He grabbed your hand again and pulled you away from the wall.

You let him guide you through the front room, the dining room, the kitchen and back up the hall as he pointed out the half-bath. You didn’t process much of it and as he urged you up the stairs, you tripped and hit your knees on the next step. He helped you up swiftly, his arm around you as he walked you up the rest of the way.

You could hardly support your own weight. He sat you down on a bench along the wall as you struggled to breathe. He knelt before you and framed your face with his hands.

“I was gonna wait,” he said, “but you made me do this. And now neither of us are ready but this how it has to be.”

You reached up and grabbed his hands as you stared back at him in horror. He didn’t even flinch as he kept his hands around your face.

“Get yourself together,” he said darkly, “now.”

He dropped his hands and stood. You watched him and nodded. You gulped and got to your feet, your legs weak but you forced yourself to stand.

“I’m sorry,” you said without thinking. He smiled and your heart dropped. Why were you apologising to him? You weren’t wrong, you were trapped.

“Come on,” he shoved you ahead of him and pointed you past the open bathroom door. You peeked in as you passed and stopped at the next, “go in.”

You entered the room. It was a tidy bedroom with everything in its place. The rug, the chair, the bed, the sheets, the dresser; everything was finely arranged and painted a scene you found in lifestyle magazines. He brushed by you and pointed to the door at the other side of the bed.

“Your closet,” he said.

You went forward and opened the door as he watched. He flicked the switch as you poked your head in to look around at the hangers. There were more clothes in the closet than you ever had. Some of them were even identical to pieces you already owned.

“Before we move on,” he went to the dresser and the subtle whisper of the drawer sliding out pulled your attention back to the room, “you should change.”

He laid out a frilly lavender piece. The fabric was see-through and there was no crotch. There were flowers embroidered where your nipples would be, the fabric ruched along straps. You looked at him and back at the flimsy lingerie.

“I’ll wait outside,” he backed away, “surprise me.”

“I… Steve--”

“Captain or sir,” he corrected as he filled the doorway with his broad figure, his hand on the handle, “you will learn the rules as we go.”

“I can’t--”

“You can,” he insisted, “rule number one: you address me properly. Rule number two, you do what I say. Rule number three,” he held up three fingers, “you break the rules and there will be consequences. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

He stepped into the hall and slammed the door. You flinched and looked back at the purple bodysuit. You shuddered and sniffed as your eyes tingled and your nose tickled. You wanted to break down and cry but your fear kept your tears inside. You undressed and pulled on the dainty lingerie.

He knocked just as you finished and pushed open the door without response. His lips parted as his eyes roved your body and you tried to fold in on yourself. He waved you forward and you reluctantly crossed the room. His fingers danced along the seam along your side and lingered just along your pelvis. You may as well be naked.

He gestured you further down the hall to the door at the very end. He slapped your ass as you walked ahead of him and he groaned. You stopped as you saw the thick latch above the handle and you felt him against your back as he caught up.

“It’s unlocked… for now,” he said.

You opened the door as the lightbulb bloomed to life on a censor but you couldn’t cross the threshold. Your mouth hung open as you looked around at the walls, sketches of you pasted across every inch. In all of them, you were naked and contorted in some lurid position; some alone, some with Steve, others you were strapped own while a few had you touching yourself.

You took a step back and collided with Steve. He urged you inside with his body and the door closed. You peered around as he turned to lock the door but there wasn’t a keyhole but a keypad. You couldn’t see what he pressed as he shielded it with his back and your legs threatened to collapse again.

More than the pictures on the wall, the room was a personal playground. There was a bench in the middle that was fit for those kinkier videos you found on the internet, with straps hooked in rings along the legs. 

Aside from that, there were leather cuffs, crops, and other whips lined up neatly over a table, surrounded by a litany of silicon, metal and glass toys. In the corner, there was a boxy machine on wheels with a rod sticking out of it. 

You spun around and Steve caught you. You reached over his shoulder for the door as panic flowed through you like electricity.

“Please,” you begged, “please, let me go. You can’t--”

“Sweetheart,” he cooed as he took you off your feet and carried you further into the room, “tonight, we’re just getting you ready…”

“No, no, no,” you ranted as you struggled against him, “no, I can’t--”

He threw you down on your feet and as you wobbled, he caught your throat, “never say no to me,” his eyes flared with anger, “do you understand?”

You swallowed and nodded stiffly above his large hand, “yes..”

“Yes, what?” he sneered.

“Yes, sir,” you forced out, “I… I…”

“Will you be good?” he asked as he lifted a brow.

“I’ll be good, sir,” you echoed.

“Turn around,” he released you harshly and you staggered awkwardly until your back was to him. 

He rounded you and grabbed your wrist, he pulled you to the cushioned horse and urged you up onto it with a curt order. As he strapped you in, your panic spiked again and you pulled with a squeal of terror.

“If you continue to struggle, it will only be worse,” he said as he buckled in your ankle, your pelvis prone over the end of the bench, “sweetheart, I have to train you because right now, you’re being bad. I can’t love you if you’re bad.”

“Please,” you eked out, “Steve, this isn’t you. You’re-- you’re Captain America--”

“And you’re mine,” he snarled and grabbed the back of your neck as he stood and pushed your head down against the bench.

He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass. The strike stung badly and you whimpered as you braced for another. It never came and you sensed him move away from you. You turned your head to watch him as he went to the table but could not see what he was doing.

He spun back and marched around the back of the horse. You tried to crane your head up to keep an eye on him and he smacked your ass again. 

“Eyes forward,” he commanded.

You turned your head straight as you let out a whine and he pushed his hand down your thigh. He prodded your ass with the toy in his other hand and the soft click turned to buzz as the vibrations reverberated through your flesh. He rolled it down and pressed along your folds. You squeaked at the sudden ripple it sent through you.

“Just relax,” he coaxed as he pushed between your folds and cupped the toy against your clit, his hand nestled between the leather and your cunt. Every muscle in your body tensed and you gritted your teeth as your core burned to life, “that’s it, sweetheart,” he kneaded your ass with his other hand, “gotta get you ready for me.”

You muffled a sob and pressed your cheek to the bench. You curled your fingers around the metal legs and braced yourself against the rising pleasure. His touch crawled down your ass as he rolled the toy against your bud and he pushed a finger into you. You moaned as he pulled in and out.

“That’s it,” he purred and added another finger, “sweetheart, you’re so tight. So tight for me.”

Your breath hitched as clicked the toy to a higher setting and his fingers sped up inside you as he bent them to reach that most tender spot. Your voice wisped from you without restraint and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure smothered your fear.

“I don’t think you’re ready,” he said, “too tight…” he fucked you even harder with his hand, “you need more.”

Your cunt clenched around him as you came and your walls twitched against his thick fingers. An ocean of pleasure washed over you as he teased your clit to the point of pain. You cried out at the overstimulation as your orgasm crashed down on you. You barely had time to catch your breath as he brought you to another peak and you whined desperately through your teeth.

He slid his fingers out slowly and spread your juices down your thigh and left the toy beneath you as he freed his hand. He backed away and you heard the sloppy noise of him sucking on his wet fingers. Your eyes fluttered open as he went to the table again and wiped his hand on his jeans.

He came back to you and pushed down the straps of the lingerie. He lifted you the inch allotted by the restraint and pinched your nipples with the metal clamps, letting the chain hang between them as he dropped you back down. You grumbled as the feeling plucked at your core.

He returned to the table then went to the corner. You looked up as he rolled the machine towards you, a dildo screwed onto the rod. You pulled at your cuffs helplessly and he slowed as neared you. He stopped and knelt to caress your head as he gripped the firm toy.

“Not quite as big as me,” he smirked, “but it will help…”

“Please,” your thighs tensed as the toy beneath you kept buzzing, “please, sir, no more.”

“Shhh,” he stood and rolled the machine around you.

You listened to him as he adjusted it and lined it up with your cunt. He pushed it until the tip was at your entrance and you stretched around it as he inched it forward. He stopped until the toy filled you. There was a momentary lull and then a subtle whir added to the vibe of the toy as the dildo moved mechanically in and out of you.

You sucked in air as you were fucked by the toy and Steve fixed the vibe beneath you so that it was flush to your clit. You cried out and he backed away as he looked you over. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to resist the pressure building inside of you. The steady motion of the toy was enough to push you further and further with each stroke.

When you opened your eyes again, you found Steve leaned against the table, his eyes watching you over a sketch pad as his hand moved a pencil on the other side. You didn’t even have the sense left to be ashamed. You bit your lip and rolled your eyes back as you succumbed to another orgasm. You heard his low hum of satisfaction and quaked atop the bench.

You groaned and opened your eyes again as he neared. He pet your head and held up the pad before you. Lines of graphite etched your image onto the paper and you stared at the sight of your fearful pleasure. He smiled proudly and stood. He puffed his chest and ripped free the page and taped it up with the rest.

“I think that’s the best one,” he said, “it’s a lot easier with the real thing.”

You quivered and panted against the bench. He disappeared behind you and the toy plunged into you even faster and deeper than before. You grunted and lifted your head as you arched your back.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he reached under you again and clicked the button on the toy until it was on the sixth setting, a vibration that built to top speed only to restart at the lowest and build back up, over and over, urging you to climax only to ease off right before it came, “you’ll be ready… soon.”

He retreated and you looked around your shoulder as you heard the pinpad, “where… where are you going… sir?”

“You need time,” he said as he opened the door, “I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

The door closed and you whined. You tried to rip your hands free from the straps and kick your legs but did nothing but add to the whirlwind of pleasure and pain. You were screwed, literally.

💌

You didn’t know how long Steve left you for but it felt like forever. You hardly heard the door as he entered or the deep of the pin pad as he locked it. You only truly knew he was there when the machine stopped. He slowly slid it out of you and rolled it back to the corner. He took the dead toy from beneath your cunt and paced around you.

He wore only his briefs and stopped by the table as he rubbed the front of them. Your vision was hazy and your mind could only think of your core. Even after all that, you wanted more. You need more. You’d been fucked for what could have been hours but hadn’t cum since he abandoned you.

He pulled down his underwear as he faced you completely. He was only half-erect as his fingers toy with a silicon ring. You squinted as he squirted lube onto the ring and rolled it down his length. He grunted as he got to his base and stroked himself as he neared.

He traced an oily finger along your cheek and gripped your jaw, “open, sweetheart.”

He was completely hard by then and pushed his tip to your lips until they parted. He slid inside as he spread his hand over your head and pinned it to the bench as bent his legs. He poked at your throat but didn’t force himself deep, even as you hardly took in half his length. He fucked your mouth carefully as your saliva squelched loudly.

“You ready for me?” he asked as he continued to thrust, “hmmm?” He pulled out of your mouth and you coughed as your spit clung to his tip. He pushed a finger against your tongue and bent over you, “we have lots of time to use that mouth…”

He stood and dragged his hand down your back and came up behind you. He groped your ass and spread your cheeks with a purr. He rested his cock between them and rubbed himself against your ass as he kneaded your hips.

“You ready, sweetheart? You gotta tell me,” he dragged his nails down your thighs and you trembled.

“I’m… ready…” you gasped out, “sir, please…”

You couldn’t think straight, you could see clearly, and you surely couldn’t fight it any longer. You wiggled your ass and let out a pathetic groan.

“Mhmmm,” he gripped his cock and pushed his tip down along your folds. He pressed against your entrance and tapped it cloyingly.

“Please… sir,” you begged, “please, I’m good. I’m being good.”

“Yes, you are,” he praised and pushed into you just a little.

You moaned and slowly he inched deeper. He was bigger than the toy, thick and throbbing as he filled you more than you could handle. You whined and exclaimed as his pelvis came flush to your cunt. Your toes curled and you scratched at the metal.

“Fuck,” he bent over you, his hard torso to your back, “you are so tight…” he whispered in your ear and felt along the clamp over your nipple, “is it too much, sweetheart?”

You nodded and bared your teeth. He pulled back and you exhaled but he thrust just as deep and you shouted in surprise. He did it again as he crushed you against the bench and squeezed the clamp tighter on your nipple. Your voice trickled from you in weak whimpers as your body shook uncontrollably.

His other arm snaked around you and he buried his hand beneath your pelvis. He parted your folds with two fingers and flicked your clit with another. You murmured and rolled your head against the leather as he sped up, his flesh clapping loudly as he hammered into you without restraint.

“Ah, sweetheart, I don’t think I’d last much longer,” he purred in your ear, “fuck I coulda cum in your mouth if I didn’t… prepare.”

He stood up and kept his hand under you as he rutted into you, his free hand against the small of your back as he played with your bud and tilted his hips wildly. His voice mingled with your own but you were so dazed, you could only hear the squelching and slapping of your bodies.

“You’re mine,” he panted between thrusts, “aren’t you? Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m… yours…” you uttered, “sir...CAPTAIN!”

You shouted as he slowed and rolled his hips tauntingly. You raised your head and squeezed the straps of your restraints as you tried to bend your legs. Your body tensed and your back arched against your will. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you came at last.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned as you gushed around him, “fuck, you fit me perfect.”

You dropped your head and he pulled back to grip your hips, fucking you faster and harder. Your entire body ached as he railed into you. The bench quaked under you and you feared both you and the metal would break.

“All mine,” he buried himself entirely and held himself there, “sweetheart.”

He pulled out of you suddenly and you gulped at air as he came around you. He bent to unstrap your wrists and ankles. He lifted you off of the bench and you let him, too weak to stand on your own. He bent his knees and scooped you up, tossing your arms over his shoulder as he held you against him and entered you from below.

He nibbled your lip as he moved you up and down his length and you hugged him loosely. He walked around as if you weighed nothing and turned to lay you down on your back, staying inside you as he stood over the bench. He gripped your sides and rammed his hips against you as he held your ass just above the leather. Your reached up and clung to the bench above you and let your eyes roll back once more.

“Mmmm, don’t pass out on me now, sweetheart,” he grabbed your chin and forced two fingers into your mouth, “I’m not even close to finished with you.”

[pandoraimperatrix]

🌟 sneaking away to kiss

🌟 Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

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

It was only by the third year since she crashed on Earth that Kory decided to make a civilian life for herself. And by decided, she meant, forced to fame by filling in for a model that was sick on the day of the photoshoot Donna had been employed to do.

After that, Donna started complaining about being bullied into giving Kory's number to agents trying to book her even though it was supposed to be just an one time thing.

By the time Kory noticed, she had a real career and a new - fake - address to her name. That was the birth of Kory Anders, the model.

That day, she had been booked till noon for an outside photo shoot, and it was around nine, when she took a break to retouch her makeup an when she saw him on the top of a building. In uniform. Her heart froze and she followed him. Something happened to the children. To the Tower. He needed to go back to Gotham to fix something Jason or Bruce had broken. The Citatel was invading!

Kory sneaked away from her colleagues and ran towards the building. Taking the stairs instead of waiting for the lift, trying to get to him in the smallest time possible.

Nightwing seemed to read her thoughts because he was casually leaned against the railing of the third floor.

"Dick, what is it? What happened?"

He kissed her first answered later.

It was a chaste kiss, well, as chaste as their kisses managed to be. Only a tiny little lick over the pressing of lips.

"I missed you, that's what happened."

Kory's bubble of anxiety defated and she rolled her eyes playfully, letting him press her gently against the wall and spread tiny butterfly kisses down her neck.

"I've been out just for a few hours."

"An eternity."

"Such a dramatic man. You could just had texted me and why the uniform?"

"Don't you think it's sexy?"

She smiled maliciously and kneeded his ass over the spandex.

"You know I do."

She got herself a little bite for that. He was ruining her for the photoshoot. She'd have to invent an excuse when she returned.

"I'll be free at noon, have lunch with me?"

"No can do, Princess. Promised to take Rach and Gar to a baseball game."

"Why wasn't I invited?"

"You hated it last time we took you."

"A girl is still entitled to an invite."

"Would you like to come, love of my life?" He asked sardonically.

Kory grabbed his face, kissing him again, nice and deep, her leg between his, her nails deep enough in his skin to leave tiny half-moon marks wasn't for the spandex.

"Later," she promised, "our room?"

He beamed.

"It's date!"

Put an emoji in my askbox and I'll write you a ficlet

[watevermelon]

Cheating!Haikyuu x Reader

✧ Summary: Akaashi and Kuroo getting caught cheating and begging you for forgiveness ➳ A/N: Honestly, I don’t think ANY of the boys would ever even consider it. They’re all so loving in their own ways and for anyone to actually do this would be absolutely horrible to their partners. ➳  Masterlist 

But ask for angst and you shall receive. kuroo’s is funny and akaashi’s is not

----- xXxXxXxXxXx-----

✧ Intro: 

You trusted your boyfriend of the past year explicitly. Your relationship was built on a mutual friendship, going from casual classmates to one day dating when he had asked you out. You were surprised to say the least, this was one of the members of the volleyball team. They were popular throughout school with the entire student body. And so for him to show interest in you? You honestly hadn’t believed it.

But as the months went on and a few became your everyday norm, along with even getting invited over his house to meet his family, you were sure that the man you were dating was the one.

You remembered the first time he kissed you, the first I love you that he ever whispered in your ears.

And so it broke your heart to find out that you were not the only one he was saying these words to.

The school you were attending was known to be a powerhouse regarding volleyball. You were proud of the national spotlight your boyfriend was fighting on. And you fully understood the times when he would be gone or busy for weeks at a time - whether it was for traveling far away for various training camps or just practicing long into the nights for upcoming tournaments.

You remembered the first time you saw it, the text that was very much not from you. The phone had vibrated while he was out of the room and you were not trying to be nosy - calling his name that he received a notification and glancing at it briefly through the motion.

I miss your lips on mine.

You knew from the beginning that Akaashi always had a special connection to Bokuto. Even before you were close to the quiet setter, you admired how he always seemed to know how to lift Bokuto’s spirits. From the preliminary matches against Nekoma to just seeing the two in school, it made you want to foster such a close relationship with him yourself.

And on more than one occasion, you had to remind yourself they were just friends.

Your friends warned you ahead of time, that the two had a strong bond despite being separated by a year and not even attending the same junior high. You knew this and simply attributed it to his patience and overall ability to read people.

When you had once asked Akaashi about his relationship with the nationally acclaimed ace, he smiled and said, “He can be a lot to handle. But I love watching Bokuto-san play when he’s in the zone.” 

You took it a face value, instead relishing in the comfort knowing that your boyfriend was wrapping his arms around you.

Months later, with that insecurity pushed in the back of your mind, it all came swarming out at Bokuto-san’s text. There was no denying what you were reading or who it was from. It was even accompanied by owl emojis of all things - as if there was anything cute about your boyfriend’s affair.

Your attention was caught and you needed confirmation, scrolling up through their conversation and seeing similar words spanning the last few hours alone. Had he been texting Bokuto the entire time he was sitting here with you?

You threw his phone back on the couch and stood, moving before even thinking about how you looked. 

Why would Akaashi do this? Akaashi?? The kind, loving Akaashi Keiji who had the love of the whole school? Hadn’t he chosen you?

Standing in the middle of his family’s living room, you put a hand on your chest to steady your breathing. You felt the onset of panic gripping your chest, threatening to force tears to the corners of your eyes. There was nothing you could say, you just had to see if it was true.

How long had this been going on? Is it possible that this was before you were even dating? Why was Akaashi stringing along the both of you? Were any of the promises Akaashi told you true?

There was no denying the sudden jump of fear you had when Akaashi walked back in the room, a questioning look on his face as he saw you try to level your breathing.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

As if he had no idea, no reason to truly think that he was the cause behind your unease.

You tried your best to feign a smile, but there was no point in hiding anything to someone as cunning as Akaashi, you figured. He was best at reading other people. Instead, you held your frown and motioned to your phone, “I got a bad text from my mom - I need to go home.”

Akaashi was already moving toward you, arms reaching out to steady you at the shoulders. He was such a comforting foundation for you. And yet now, his close proximity brought nothing but anxiety and anger.

He seemed to notice since Akaashi dropped his hands to his sides. “Alright, let me walk you home?”

You nodded in agreement, not trusting your voice. You worried that you were going to unintentionally spill out the word vomit - accusing words ready on the tip of your tongue. He still reached out to encase your hand in his own, silently walking side-by-side for the entire time.

Thankfully, you had different homerooms and could avoid him for the first initial hours of school the next day. Did you have a plan? Absolutely fucking not. But you knew that you had to see them together - see them in their element and see why. 

You needed to know the reason why Akaashi would throw away everything you built together.

You stayed silent to your friends, not even telling your best friend what happened. Not that you were afraid of Akaashi finding out that you knew somehow, but you wanted to see what was naturally between them, without anyone else’s interference.

Akaashi had thankfully given you your space, probably assuming that your family emergency from before was what was holding you down. It also helped that they had a practice match against Itachiyama at the end of the week, so he was called to practice especially more.

He always had such beautiful hands, despite the hours of practice he dedicated to his sport. It made you wonder what he did with them. There were a number of times before where Akaashi would text you late into the night, citing that Bokuto had demanded more practice with his spikes. 

Was Akaashi really setting a ball for five hours straight after your last mid-terms?

You had a million questions in your head as you sat in the stands with your friends, watching the game of Fukurōdani vs Itachiyama. Bokuto was at the top of his game today, none of his usual vices holding him down as he played against his rival, Sakusa. For you and the other students cheering on the team, it could have been easily seen as just another game.

But it wasn’t.

You watched how Akaashi’s gaze would sometimes linger on Bokuto, long legs guiding his stride to a spike. The ace seemed to fly above the net, passion for their shared sport radiating even up in the stands where you were sitting. The fond expression Akaashi had only brought up his earlier words to mind - I love watching him play.

The interaction was so strangely intimate and yet public for any spectator the game. The moment passed, time moving forward as you continued to analyze every smile Akaashi shot the ace. Bokuto’s raised an overjoyed fist in the air in his excitement over the single point. He yelled his usual, Hey! Hey! Hey! And while you found the action usually humorous, you could only stare in blank realization as Akaashi fondly smiled at the spiker’s words.

There was no rising panic this time, nothing inside you screaming at you that something was wrong. 

Your eyes kept following the scene, the game playing out while you stood stock-still among your friends. But your mind was already made up, long before the game ended. You thought about it a few times over the past few days, why Bokuto? Why you?

Why did Akaashi even approach you in the first place?

Thinking back to any conversations you had with Akaashi that surrounded volleyball. All their little volleyball antics - it was always about Bokuto. He got in trouble with the principal, got depressed during a game, even something as simple as being overly hungry before a match. And who was the one to always pick him up? 

Akaashi.

And this was not something that could be as simply waved off as teammates. Neither Haruki nor Konoha were like this with the ace and both of them knew Bokuto longer than Akaashi. Kaori had even joked to you once that Akaashi was capable of reading Bokuto’s mind.

You were a fool.

You hadn’t told Akaashi you were going to attend this practice match in the first place and you honestly had no intention of doing so.

Instead, you texted Bokuto during the game to meet you outside by the entrance stairs, alone. 

Most of the other students had already filled out of the gymnasium, out into the streets on their way home as you leaned against the cold railing. You could hear Bokuto’s quick steps around the corner before you even saw him.

“Hey, (L/N)-chan! What’s up?” He greeted you in a friendly manner, waving with one hand fully outstretched even though you were only a few feet away from each other.

You weren’t going to smile and pretend.

“Bokuto-san.” You stated, looking him in the eyes head-on.

Despite his amicable disposition, Bokuto had quite the intimidating disposition to outsiders. The tall spiker was built with muscles, arms and legs looking seemingly sculpted. And here you were, pointing a heavy glare with your chin held-high at a man who could very easily over-power you.

“Don’t smile at me like everything’s okay.” You started, “I know.”

His smile immediately squashed to a straight line, eyes hardening as they looked down at you. Bokuto crossed his arms, his athletic duffel pushed to the side of his body.

“I won’t apologize for being in love with him.” His voice rang through the calm outdoors, not a single soul to hear his confession other than you.

You scoffed, “How did I already know you’d say that?”

Bokuto kept your question rhetorical, for once staying uncharacteristically silent. His gaze never wavered off of yours, eyes boring right into you as you wordlessly sized each other up.

“I tried to let him go, once.” Bokuto continued, “When you first started dating, I tried and couldn’t.”

They were together before you were even in the picture.

You bit your lip, asking. “And you’re going to ask me not to make you do it again?”

Bokuto paused, uncrossing his arms and looking heavenward for the right answer. How could he? They were already on the road to love before you even really knew Akaashi. Why did he ask you out in the first place? Why progress this far in your relationship? 

None of this was right and you had every bone in your body screaming at you to beat the ever loving shit out of the two volleyball players. But there was one thing you needed to cut off now.

“I don’t need an answer to confirm what you’re thinking.” You stated, “Treat his heart kindly.”

Bokuto sputtered, raising his arms in defense. “Akaashi chose you - he asked you out!”

You almost snarled at the irony, “As if that matters! What’s a label against the fact that he’s been in love with you during that entire time?”

He recoiled, nothing to say against your true question. You were his girlfriend, but how could that possibly matter when his heart continually lingered on the ace in front of you. And, since the volleyball God’s hated you, it was no surprise when the setter turned the corner to your impassioned conversation.

“What’s happening here?” His voice rang out, meeting Bokuto’s worried expression and your hardened one. 

Akaashi stopped in his stride the moment he saw the both of you, not moving closer to you or Bokuto and simply guarding his expression from leaking any of his inner thoughts.

“I thought about this a million times over the past few days.” You said low, but voice strong enough for the others to hear. “How I would yell at you, curse you to your face... But now that I see you, you’re pathetic.”

Akaashi was the master of a blank expression, but now there was nothing but panic and hurt written all over his face. Whatever words he was going to say, to somehow excuse his behavior, died on his lips when you calmly raised your palm to stop him.

How dare he.

"I don’t want to know why you led me on for so long. Or why you decided stringing along Bokuto this whole time would be good to the people you claim to love.” 

Bokuto frowned, looking to the side away from the two of you, but said nothing to refute your statement.

“Don’t ever talk to me again.”

You walked away from Akaashi then, turning away and heading home without looking back. There was nothing left, no words that could ever explain or fix the situation, not that you wanted him to try either. Bokuto’s voice reached you mid-way through the steps, his words low but aimed toward Akaashi.

The words were low and you were surprised you were even able to hear them: She’s not wrong.

The next day at school neither of them were present.

You laid it all out to your best friends at lunch then, all of you sitting under the apple tree and quietly listening to your story. They offered you small condolences, never bringing up the volleyball team or practice matches around you ever again. Konoha shot you a wilted frown in passing, no words enough to even start that conversation.

You only saw Akaashi one more time. It was no surprise that Fukurōdani was progressing to the Spring Nationals and everyone at school were quick to congratulate various team members on their victory. You saw them, preening around the lunchroom as the student body wished them luck.

They were holding hands.

You lingered on the sight for a single second. But it was enough for Akaashi to notice your eyes, shooting a withered smile in your direction. 

There was nothing you wanted to do in response, nothing left for you to say and hope for when it came to the setter. And so you simply turned back to your friends, rejoining the conversation with thoughts of the volleyball team long behind you.

You had to re-read the text three times, your mind whirling in circles to accept the fact that this was for your Tetsurō.

It was only when your hands flew to scroll upwards that you realized yes, this was really happening. It was all so quick - he had left the room to use the bathroom, or whatever, at this point you hadn’t even remembered why. Just his phone, which he always had on him, had vibrated away on your coffee table.

You grabbed it half-mindedly, original intention to bring it to him and maybe leave it at the door in case it was some type of volleyball-related emergency. He was the captain, after all. And so when the actual contents of the texts grabbed your attention, it was all over from there.

The profile picture was of the popular student body president, her shining face radiating even now. The other boys of the volleyball team had always complimented her and brought her up in conversation. Before you were even dating, you remembered that Kuroo particularly agreed with many of her features: long-hair, mild temper, and good grades even in college prep classes.

You were on the average scale of things - average grades in college prep, a member of photography club, but not particularly motivated - you were easily replaceable in the fast-paced world that Kuroo and others were constantly facing. And while you tried not to dwell on it too much, Kuroo was at the top of class with many of the female student body interested in him - there were times he had inadvertently made you felt small.

But Kuroo did try to wave those thoughts away, saying that you were the one he was in love with. It was only for you that he showed his soft side and only you were the recipient of his loving gestures.

And yet now you had in your hands evidence that none that was true.

You wanted to scream - reading all the affectionate phrases he had typed away to this woman.

Were you going to accuse him, then and there? What were you even going to say to him?

Kuroo made the choice for you.

“What are you doing with my phone?” He asked, voice promulgating the silent room.

You were sure that your eyes were glossy as you responded back quietly, “I was going to bring it to you when it kept ringing.”

“Thanks babe, just pass it over.” He said calmly, outstretching a palm in your direction.

You held the phone to your chest, there was no way you could feign a reaction now. This was no longer the simple interaction that you could pretend would pass over, the adulterous text was still open on the screen, open for both parties to quickly see.

His grey-eyes surveyed you silently, not a single word uttered, as if it would break this unmoving conversation. You always found his observant stare endearing, how his greatest weapon on the volleyball court was something he used on you to understand you better. 

And now, you could only imagine what he was truly thinking throughout your relationship.

Kuroo’s fond looks, those kind smiles, they were all calculated actions to keep you on his hook. They were not the loving terms of endearment you believed them to be. They were deliberate ways to sate your relationship, nothing more.

You frowned, handing him the phone and biting out coldly. “I want you to leave.”

“Listen babe, it’s not what you think.” Kuroo was reaching for you, taking steps to close the distance before you fled away entirely.

“Of course! What was I thinking?!” Your voice was raising with every word, anger seeping through toward the middle-blocker. “Some other girl texting you: I dream of waking up to you every day, could be some other context that what I’m too small-minded to know? Right?”

He followed behind you as you traversed through your empty house. You just wanted to get away from him, just the very image of Kuroo was enough to make you angry and inescapably hurt. There was so much you wanted to just yell at him, but at the same time you knew this was the man who held your heart.

And the same one who chose to break it.

What was there even to say to him? You’ve won? Congratulations? Get out of my house?

“Get out!” You settled on that and yelled behind you, your voice weak as you sucked in air between tears. Kuroo continued to follow behind you despite your loud command.

You pushed open the door to your bedroom and attempted to slam it behind you, but a simple kick of his foot and it stayed open. Instead, Kuroo closed it and locked it as he followed.

He had you cornered.

Would it be crazy if you jumped out the window?

Your eyes shot to the opening at the side-wall of your room, but it seemed his gaze followed your own path when he grabbed your elbow and pulled you to him.

Kuroo had his hands on your shoulders, trying to calm you down. “Please just listen to me.”

“Listen to what?” You were trying to push him away, but Kuroo refused to budge against you.

He leaned his chin against the top of your head, one of his arms going down to wrap around your waist. “Stop, you know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Then why...?”

“It looks bad. I know it does.” Kuroo started to explain, “But I can prove to you that this isn’t what you think.”

You sniffed, not saying anything as you waited for whatever bullshit response was already formulating on his lips.

What you hadn’t expected was for Kuroo to raise the phone to your ear, the ringing of the outgoing call blasting next to you.

What was he doing? Was he insane? 

You didn’t want to listen to her voice, listen to whatever she was going to say when she picked up the phone. Loving words, teasing innuendo’s, all of that you shared with Kuroo and now he was going to show-off what he had with another girl?

You twisted against him, ready to fight out of outrage of not only being cheated on, but also Kuroo doing the utmost stupid thing he could ever do and showing it off in front of you.

The voice that rang out froze you in your actions.

“Captain! Was my text really bad that you had to call?”

“... Yamamoto-san?” You near-whispered back in recognition.

You heard what was almost a yelp back. He stuttered over your name, before asking, “Ah, you and um. You and Kuroo-san are spending your day off together?”

Taking hold of the phone yourself, you looked at the screen and saw that it was indeed to the same student body president that the call was going through to. Same icon, same everything. So why was Yamamoto on the other side of the line? You looked up at Kuroo briefly, the middle-blocker staring at you right back. He urged the phone back to your ear, reminding you that Nekoma’s ace was still on the other side of the line.

“...Yeah.” You answered back weakly, remembering his initial question.

“... Was there something you needed?” He asked nervously.

“Um.” You bit your lip and looked at Kuroo, “Why is your name saved as our student body president in Kuroo’s phone?”

“Aasdfgh.” The strangled noise lasted for ten seconds before Kuroo cleared his throat next to you. “Captain! You’re there too!”

“Explain it, now.” Kuroo said flatly, his voice plain as his grip on your waist tightened. You put a hand on his chest in an attempt to keep him at a distance. You were still mad, admittedly also confused, but you didn’t want Kuroo to just hug the issue away.

Of course, he pushed your hand away and continued to hold you close.

“Please, don’t judge me (L/N)-san!”

Your confusion was only growing. “Um. What’s going on?”

“somycrushgavemehernumberbuticanttalktogirlsandididntwanttomessupsoiwaspracticingwhattosayonkurooandtherestandthentheygotmadsosometimesitextmyselffromtheirphonenumbersaspractice!” 

The words were so fast, you held the phone closer to your ear in an attempt to decipher anything that was just said.

“Wait, what?”

Yamamoto sighed loudly before exclaiming, “I can’t talk to my crush!”

You tilted your head in confusion, “... Kuroo’s your crush?”

The middle-blocker sighed above you, moving to flick your forehead while Yamamoto was near screaming in outrage on the line.

“No!! I.. I don’t have a lot of experience talking to girls! And then my crush gave me her number and she started texting me! And believe me, I tried practicing on otome games and even they dumped me!”

“Uhh...”

His loud voice kept going, explaining the strange tale, “And so I was begging the guys to help me practice and eventually they got sick of me too! She was really into me too and we were flirting and I wasn’t ready!! I don’t have anyyyy experience, (L/N)-san!!”

You shot a look up to Kuroo, his gaze locked on you without any other hints of an expression on. You were sure that your face was a mix of incredulous and worried, was this for real?

“And then she started texting me dirty things and I wanted to do it back, so Kuroo taught--”

“Skip it.” The middle-blocker stated harshly, cutting off the ace.

“Aasdafhauh.” Yamamoto outwardly struggled, remembering that both Kuroo and you, a female, were on the line. “I thought all was lost and then Kuroo let me practice texting myself and seeing how it looked from his phone!”

Oh.

lmao

“Wait, what?”

Kuroo summarized it plainly for you. “It means he was practicing sexting himself from my phone.”

“Ca-Captain!” His voice rang out.

You could not help your growing, amused smile. “Is it true?”

“I - well, yes...”

His voice trailed, but you held in your chuckle. “Ah, thanks for clearing that up.”

Yamamoto paused before asking, “Did my impassioned words led to a misunderstanding?”

“I’m sure your words are the least of your problems tomorrow at practice.”  Kuroo answered this time, earning an anguished exclamation before the middle-blocker hung-up and threw the phone away.

That was not what you were expecting.

Your mind was in a million places, not sure what to say and what you were just witness to. Kuroo pulled you along to your bed, near throwing you on top while you were distracted in your thoughts.

He hovered above you, placing a light kiss on your forehead and then trailing down the side of your face. You cupped his cheek, still trying to process what the hell just happened, but moved to slot his lips against yours and reassure yourself that this was real. 

Kuroo pulled away and whispered against your lips, “I know it looks crazy, but please trust in me - in us.”

You nodded silently, simply stating an okay when Kuroo continued to stare at you.

“I want this... more than just now in high school.” Kuroo looked to the side, before returning his gaze back to you.

Guiding his head back to yours, you pushed off your elbow to lean up to him. “Me too. I’m sorry for being so quick to accuse you.”

“Stop.” He murmured against your skin, small pecks following his wake. “I should’ve explained it to you before.”

“I mean, it does sound pretty crazy.” You joked, a fond smile growing on your face as Kuroo continued to shower your neck with small kisses. “To think you were flirting with Yamamoto of all people.”

“Oi.” A small scowl was already on his face.

You were ready to tease your poor boyfriend, “Sorry, you were sexting him.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, a hand already sneaking its way under your shirt. “Why don’t I show you what I was teaching him?”

You felt your eyes comically widen at his boldness, any hint of your previous teasing falling away as your boyfriend’s sly smirk crawled further and further down your body.

The love you felt for Kuroo was undeniably mutual, but you had to learn to trust your boyfriend.

----- xXxXxXxXxXx-----

oop lmao hope you enjoyed these short stories!

Come checkout some of the added-on endings to Cheater!Akaashi’s story: ➳  Masterlist 

[bibbawrites]

Made Your Mark On Me, a Golden Tattoo - Single Dad!Charlie x Owen

THIS IS PART 10 OF THE SINGLE DAD!CHARLIE SERIES, YOU CAN FIND THE OTHER PARTS HERE

Request: none

Word Count: 3760 words

Summary: Part 10 of Single Dad!Charlie, Owen comes to LA to stay with Charlie, Margaux and Meghan, and the boys go on their first date

Warnings: swearing, sexual references, implied sexual content pretty sure everyone knows at this point but this does include romantic chowen, remember this is fictional, if you dont like that just dont read :)

A/N: another day another part lol, i have far too much written for this series considering there is no demand for it but i’m enjoying it so i’m gonna keep writing purely just for @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ and myself lol also! a new nickname for margaux has been unlocked haha she has far too many cause every person keeps giving her their own nickname and ive lost count of how many there are... anyways, enjoy! 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes @molinaroberts @joynersgoatblog @courageous-she​ @littlemissaddict @gloomybrieyxb​ @itsyagorlemmalyn @jatpxmultifan​ @moneybagmgk​ @emeliii1​ @mybradforddream​ (the strike through means it wont let me tag you)

Char sent a message to OPJ

Char owweeeennnnnnnnnnn

Char come to la

OPJ why?

Char i miss you

Char wanna kiss your pretty face

Char and your pretty lips

Char and your pretty 🍆

OPJ charlieeeeeee

Char what? i did nothing wrong

OPJ you just said you wanna suck my dick

Char i never said such a thing

Char read the messages, i only said i would like to kiss your pretty face and your pretty lips and your pretty 🍆

OPJ and we all know what that emoji means

Char get your head out of the gutter honestly

Char maybe i just love eggplant

OPJ ugh whatever

Char so will you?

OPJ will i what?

Char come to la

Char we’ve been officially boyfriends for almost three months and we haven’t even had our first date yet

OPJ when do you want me

Char right now

OPJ that’s not possible bub

Char bub?

OPJ trying something, yes or no?

Char meh i don’t hate it

OPJ i’ll keep looking then

Char anyways, i booked you a flight...

OPJ char you didn’t have to

Char i know i’m just so desperate to see you

OPJ what time and day?

Char ...

Char today 3pm...

OPJ it’s 11am now

Char you better get packing

OPJ already am 

Char oh i know you are ;)

OPJ i didnt mean it like that and you know it

OPJ you’re gonna be the death of me Gillespie

Char i know ❤️

-

The second Charlie spotted Owen exiting the gate he was jumping into the blond’s arms, glad that they both had masks on to prevent him from kissing Owen senseless with hundreds of people around.

“God I missed you.” He muttered, face pressed into Owen’s neck. 

“I missed you more.” Owen replied, pulling back slightly. “Where’s Maggie?”

“With Meghan. She’s visiting for a little bit so she offered to look after her while I came to get you.” Charlie explained, grabbing Owen’s carry on as they headed through the airport to baggage claim. 

“Is she staying with you?” Owen asked. 

“She is, but I may or may not have booked the four of us into a hotel for a few days. She leaves on Thursday so if you wanna stay after that we’ll just go back to my place.” Charlie said. 

“We’re staying in a hotel?” Owen grinned, coming to a stop at the baggage carousel, his eyes focused on looking for his suitcase. 

“Yeah! Mags is pumped, she loves hotels, especially high rise ones. We’re going back to mine to collect the two of them then we’ll head there.” Charlie said

“Does Meghan know about...” Owen trailed off, glancing over at Charlie who shook his head. 

“I didn’t tell her, I wanted to find out what you wanted to do first.” Charlie replied. Owen smiled. 

“I’m okay with telling her.” He said. 

“Or maybe we just act like a couple around her and see how long it takes her to notice.” Charlie suggested and Owen shook his head. 

“You’re evil.” He spotted his bag, leaving Charlie’s side for a few moments before coming back over, his suitcase trailing behind him. 

“Don’t think it will take long, cause the second that front door shuts behind us I’m gonna be all over you.” Charlie grinned, taking Owen’s free hand once the younger boy was back by his side, leading him out of the airport. Owen blushed slightly. 

“Can’t wait.”

-

True to his word, the second that the door was shut Charlie was shoving Owen against the wall and kissing him with so much force that he thought his lips might bleed.

“Fuck, missed you so much.” Charlie mumbled against Owen’s lips, groaning when Owen’s fingers dug into his hips.

“Char...” Owen gasped out and Charlie just kissed him harder, wanting to make up for lost time.

“When you’re done trying to swallow each other, we’re in the kitchen.” Meghan’s voice called and Charlie groaned, stepping back from Owen. He didn’t want to stop, but he knew if they kept going they wouldn’t be able to.

“We should go to them.” He said, and Owen nodded, still slightly stunned from the aggression of the kiss.

“Probably.” He agreed, but neither of them made any attempt to move, so Charlie nuzzled his face into Owen’s neck, just taking in the familiar scent of his boyfriend. 

“This hotel, how is the room situation going?” Owen asked, his hand trailing through Charlie’s hair. Charlie lifted his head up.

“I booked a two bedroom suite. Margaux and Meghan can share one room and we’ll take the other.” He said. Owen smiled. 

“Okay good.” He replied. Charlie raised an eyebrow. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“Remember your texts?” Owen smirked, and Charlie’s eyes widened at the realisation. 

“Don’t be so horny.” He muttered, hitting at Owen’s arm. Owen grinned. 

“Says the guy who just had me pressed up against a wall.” He retaliated. 

“We can hear you, you know that right?” Meghan called, and both Charlie and Owen froze. 

“We did not.” Charlie called back, and both boys decided that was their cue to head into the kitchen, where Meghan and Margaux were waiting.  

“Papa!” Margaux exclaimed the second they entered the room, jumping down off her chair and rushing over to Owen, jumping into his arms. Meghan gave Charlie a look, eyebrows raised. 

“So, finally got your shit together then?” She questioned. Charlie glanced towards Owen and Margaux, a smile appearing on his face when he saw the way the four year old was clinging to the blond boy. 

This was how things were supposed to be. 

- 

Less than an hour later the family of four had checked into their home for the next few days and travelled up to the fourteenth floor to find their room. 

Once they found it Charlie tapped the keycard against the door and pushed on the handle when the light changed to green. Margaux pushed past him, running into the room and heading straight towards the door to the balcony, pressing her face into the glass. 

“Woah!” She exclaimed, standing on her toes to try to see the road below. 

“Good view?” Charlie asked, placing the bags he was carrying down on the couch, before opening the door and letting Margaux out onto the balcony, trailing closely behind her as Margaux rushed over to the railing. 

“Look Daddy.” She grinned as Charlie squatted down behind her, placing a hand on her back gently. 

“Wow look how tiny those people are.” Charlie said, and Margaux giggled. 

“They’re ants!” She replied, leaning back into Charlie. 

“For someone who travels as much as she does you’d think she’d be used to it by now.” Meghan joked quietly to Owen as the two of them stood and watched the interaction.

“Especially since we lived in an apartment building in Vancouver while we filmed.” Owen replied. 

“Kids.” Meghan shook her head in amusement.

“You wanna see your room baby?” Charlie questioned, and Margaux nodded excitedly. 

“Okay let’s figure it out.” Charlie stood back up, taking Margaux’s hand and leading her back into the main room. 

“Am I gonna stay with you Daddy?” Margaux asked, and Charlie shook his head. 

“No you’re gonna stay with Meggy.” He said, motioning towards his younger sister. 

“It’s gonna be like a sleepover.” Meghan grinned. Margaux pouted. 

“But I wanna stay with Daddy.” She whined. 

“You’ll be with Daddy until you have to go to sleep, okay?” Charlie told her, pushing open the door, revealing the room with the two double beds.

“And look at this nice big bed you get to stay in all by yourself. You can fit all of your toys around you.” He added, and Margaux frowned but didn’t protest. 

“Which bed do you want Mini? The window one?” Meghan questioned. 

Margaux glanced at the beds before nodding. Charlie placed her bag onto the bed, unzipping it to reveal the several stuffed toys and dolls they had packed.

“Look, we’ll put all your friends on your bed.” He said as he placed the toys out onto the bed, pulling out Margaux’s blanket last. “And your blankie, and look how nice this looks. You’ll have so much fun sleeping here.”

“And we can even sing with each other at night, or gossip about secret girl stuff.” Meghan added, sitting on the edge of her own bed. 

“What girl stuff?” Margaux questioned, climbing up next to her aunt and snuggling into her arms. 

“Butterflies and glitter.” Charlie joked, and Owen rolled his eyes at the reference, turning and leaving the room as a response.

“We’ll stay up all night talking about boys.” Meghan grinned and Charlie’s smile instantly turned into a frown. 

“Hey! No.” He reprimanded.

“I’m joking Charlie, don’t be a party pooper.” Meghan rolled her eyes. 

“You joke, but we had a full conversation a month ago about how someone wants a boyfriend.” Charlie said, and Margaux looked up. 

“I want a boyfriend.” She chimed in. Meghan laughed. 

“You’re four, why do you need a boyfriend?” She asked. Margaux frowned. 

“Daddy has a boyfriend.” She stated. Meghan smirked, looking up at Charlie. 

“Does he now?” She teased. 

“Shut the fuck up, you knew that. You literally just asked if I had gotten my shit together.” Charlie said, and Meghan rolled her eyes at him. 

“You didn’t confirm it.” She retorted. Charlie shook his head. 

“Hey Meghan, Owen’s my boyfriend.” He stated, ignoring the flutter in his chest at those words. 

“Wow! Thank you so much for telling me, that’s so nice of you!” Meghan replied, her tone thick with sarcasm. 

“Don’t be sarcastic.” Charlie retaliated. 

“What’s that Taylor Swift lyric? The one about looking at him like the stars, that’s you and him. It’s honestly about time that you got your shit together.” Meghan said, flopping backwards onto her bed, giggling when Margaux climbed on top of her. 

“Tay’s my boyfriend.” The tiny blonde stated and Charlie sighed.

“Who?” Meghan shot him a confused look. 

“Taylor Kare. Who played the young version of Bobby in the show. For some reason she’s decided she wants him to be her boyfriend.” Charlie explained. Meghan grinned. 

“I don’t blame her, he’s cute.” She said. Charlie shot her a look and she rolled her eyes before sitting up, Margaux clinging to her like a koala. 

“Hey Mini, why don’t we go get some food and bring it back while your Daddy unpacks all of your stuff.” Meghan suggested. Margaux smiled. 

“Yeah! Can we get KFC?” She asked. 

“Of course we can.” Meghan grinned, before turning to Charlie. “Want anything?”

“Just get one of those big buckets of chicken and we’ll figure it out.” He said as Meghan stood up, grabbing her mask. 

“Okay. I’m stealing your wallet.” She told him. 

“Of course you are.” Charlie rolled his eyes, but handed his wallet over to his younger sister nonetheless, before leaning in to kiss Margaux gently on the side of her head. 

“Bye baby, have fun and be good for Meggy, okay?” He said. Margaux nodded. 

“Bye Daddy, love you.” She replied. 

“Love you too.” Charlie smiled. 

Meghan and Margaux left, the four year old chattering away in her aunty’s arms about something she had seen in Bluey, and Charlie waited until he couldn’t hear their voices anymore to move. 

“Owen?” He called, starting to head across the suite to the room he and Owen were sharing. 

“Yeah?” Owen called back. Charlie pushed open the door, finding a much larger room with a large king size bed in the middle of the room, and a flat screen tv hung on the wall. Owen was unpacking his bag, hanging clothes in the wardrobe, when Charlie entered. 

“Meg and Mags went to get food.” Charlie told him. 

“Okay cool.” Owen replied, looking up after a few moments and frowning when he saw the look on Charlie’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Remember the texts?” Charlie raised an eyebrow and Owen’s eyes lit up. 

“Come here.” He said, but Charlie didn’t move. 

“We’ve gotta be quick.” Charlie informed him and Owen nodded. 

“Got it.”

And with that Charlie rushed over to Owen, kicking the door shut behind him.

-

They were a naked mess of sweaty bodies and tangled limbs when Charlie decided to bring up their plans for the night. 

“Oh by the way, I have our date planned.” He said as Owen played with his hair. 

“Am I allowed to know what it is? Or when?” Owen questioned. Charlie nodded slightly. 

“Tonight. At 10:30pm.” He informed the blonde. “And it’s a surprise.” 

“10:30?” Owen repeated. Charlie hummed in response. Owen sighed. 

“That’s all I’m getting?”

“Yep.” Charlie murmured. 

“We’re back!” Meghan’s voice called through the suite and both Charlie and Owen jumped up in fear. 

“Fuck, get dressed.” Charlie instructed, tossing clothes towards Owen, before calling back to Meghan. “Coming!”

In record time they were both dressed and came out of the bedroom, trying to look as casual as possible as they walked over to the table where Meghan had placed all the food. 

“Daddy, you didn’t unpack my stuff.” Margaux pouted, and Charlie placed a soft kiss on the top of her head as an apology. 

“Sorry baby, Daddy got distracted.” He told her as he grabbed some food for her and put it on one of the plates Owen had brought over to the table. 

“Oh gross, you didn’t.” Meghan groaned, glancing between Charlie and Owen, who had turned a bright red in embarrassment. Charlie just shrugged, a guilty smile on his face. Meghan fake gagged. 

“That’s disgusting Char.” She reprimanded. Charlie shook his head. 

“It’s natural.” He retaliated. Meghan hit him. 

“Shut up, I don’t want to know anything else.” She said. The table fell silent for a moment, before Margaux decided to speak up. 

“Daddy we saw a puppy when we were walking.” She grinned, and Charlie pulled a shocked face. 

“Oh my gosh, really? Tell me all about it.” He replied, and for the entire meal Margaux rambled, telling them story after story. 

-

Just before 10:30, Charlie and Owen arrived at their date destination. Owen looked up at the sign, frowning slightly when he saw it. 

“A tattoo parlour?” He questioned. Charlie smiled, despite the fact that Owen couldn’t see it through his mask. 

“You’ve been talking about getting a new tattoo, so I figured we could get a new one together.” He suggested. Owen’s frown melted, a soft look replacing it. 

“Why is that oddly sweet?” He teased, leaning his head into Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie grinned. 

“Cause I’m oddly sweet?” He replied. Owen laughed. 

“That you are.” 

“Do you have any ideas of what you wanna get?” Charlie questioned as he held the door open. Owen gave him a small smile, walking through the door as he answered. 

“I have a couple of ideas.” He said. “Things that I think would look cool.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Charlie’s eyes lit up with curiosity. Owen shook his head. 

“Secret. Want it to be a surprise.” He grinned. Charlie chuckled. 

“Fair enough.” 

After going through the basics and signing some paperwork, it was time for them to get their tattoos. The tattoo artist led them through to the backroom and for the whole time they were there Charlie and Owen didn’t once let go of each other’s hands. 

- 

The two boys left the tattoo parlour a few hours later, hand in hand and new tattoos covered in a protective cling film. 

“Do you wanna head back?” Charlie questioned, swinging their hands between them. Owen sighed. 

“Not really, but we probably should. It’s late.” He answered. Charlie nodded in agreement. 

“True. Plus the date doesn’t have to end just because we go back to the hotel... There’s a nice comfy bed and some red wine with our names on it.” He raised an eyebrow and Owen smiled. 

“Fancy.” 

“Only the best for you.” Charlie grinned, and Owen pulled him close, pulling down their masks so that their lips could meet in a rough kiss. 

And if it took them almost an hour to make the 15 minute walk back to the hotel then that was just between them. 

-

Charlie unlocked the door to the hotel room and pushed it open, frowning when he spotted Margaux sat on the ground, staring out the window at the city lights.  

“Why are you still awake Mags?” He asked as he pulled off his mask, drawing the four year old’s attention to them. 

“Missed you.” She said softly, her voice wobbling. 

“Oh baby, come here.” Charlie squatted down and the four year old ran into his arms, burying her face in his neck. Owen nodded towards their bedroom and Charlie gave him a small smile to let the younger boy know he understood. 

“You were gone but you said you wouldn’t go.” Margaux mumbled. 

“You knew I was gonna go out with Papa for a little bit, remember? It’s okay, I’m back, and I promise I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” He tangled his hand through her curls and the four year old hummed in response. 

“Okay.” She agreed, her voice no louder than a whisper. Thinking quickly, Charlie decided the best course of action would be distraction. 

“Hey, you wanna see Daddy’s new tattoos?” He asked, and Margaux nodded, moving back slightly. Charlie smiled at her. 

“First I got this one here.” He lifted his arm to show her the heart tattoo on his ribcage, the plastic mostly obscuring it. 

“And I got this one here for my favourite person in the whole entire world.” He finished, showing her the tiny cursive M inked into his wrist.

“An M for Margaux, so I always have you with me.” He said, and she peered at the tiny ink on his wrist, a small smile appearing on her face. 

“I like it.” She told him. “Can I have one?” Charlie laughed.

“When you’re all grown up, okay?” He replied, ruffling her hair. 

“Okay.” She agreed. They fell silent, and Charlie was just about to suggest that it was time for Margaux to hop into her bed when she spoke up again. 

“Daddy?” Her voice sounded small. 

“Yeah baby?” Charlie replied. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Margaux questioned, already leaning back into his arms. 

“Of course baby. You got Mr Penguin?” He asked. 

She held the penguin up and Charlie grinned.

“Great, let’s go.” 

He stood up, taking her spare hand to lead her towards the bedroom, pushing the door open to where Owen was sat, already in bed with Netflix loaded on the TV. 

“Papa! I’m gonna sleep here with you.” Margaux exclaimed, diving onto the bed as Owen raised an eyebrow, looking towards Charlie with a knowing look.

“Oh really? What about your bed?” He asked.

“She was sad.” Charlie pouted, and Owen just shook his head. 

“Come on baby, in you get.” Charlie said, letting the four year old climb into the bed before climbing in after her, grinning when she settled into his arms, her head on his chest. 

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and once she did, Owen spoke up, his voice soft. 

“You know one day you gotta stop letting her climb into bed with you.” He whispered. Charlie made a noise in response, his eyes never once leaving Margaux. 

“One day... just not today.” He replied. 

“The longer you give in the harder it’s gonna be for you. Cause I know it’s as much you as it is her.” Owen said, and Charlie sighed, his fingers tangled through Margaux’s curls as the four year old slept peacefully in his arms. 

“I know.” He started. “I just...” 

Owen reached out, linking his hand through one of Charlie’s and giving it a light squeeze. 

“It’s stupid.” Charlie mumbled. Owen moved slightly, placing a kiss on the side of Charlie’s head. 

“I’m sure it’s not.” He assured the older boy. Charlie was silent for a moment before talking. 

“She’s just always been with me and has always needed me to do everything for her, and now she’s getting older and she can do all of these things on her own, and I just get worried that she’s not gonna need me any more, or she’ll decide that she doesn’t want these nights where she asks to sleep with me.” He rambled. 

“You’re her dad. She’s always gonna need you Char.” Owen assured him. Charlie hummed in response, and Owen took that as a sign to change the topic, a small smile appearing on his face. 

“So I’m guessing no post date make out session or red wine.” He joked, and Charlie sighed. 

“Sorry.” He muttered. Owen rolled his eyes, snuggling as close to Charlie as he could get without disturbing Margaux. 

“I was joking Char.” He said, and Charlie moved to place a soft kiss on Owen’s lips. 

“I had a really good time tonight.” Owen whispered against Charlie’s lips and Charlie smiled. 

“Me too.” He agreed. 

“Do we have any plans tomorrow?” Owen inquired, and Charlie paused for a moment. 

“Not that I know of. Why? Have something in mind?” He moved back slightly so that he could look at Owen’s face. 

“I thought maybe the four of us could go play mini golf or something like that?” Owen suggested. Charlie smiled. 

“That sounds like a lot of fun.” He answered. They fell into a comfortable silence, both boys closing their eyes, but there was something that Charlie knew he had to say. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking.  

“Hey Owen?” He whispered. Owen opened his eyes, focusing on Charlie instantly. 

“Yeah?” He questioned. Charlie smiled. 

“I love you.” He murmured. Owen smiled, rubbing his nose against Charlie’s. 

“Love you too Char.” He replied. Charlie shook his head. 

“No... I’m in love with you.” He clarified. Owen’s jaw dropped slightly, but he recovered quickly. 

“I’m in love with you too.” He returned, and Charlie lent in to kiss him gently. 

“It scares me.” Owen whispered once they pulled apart. “How much I love you.” 

“Honestly, me too. But we’re in this together. And I love you as much as you love me, so don’t overthink it, okay?” Charlie replied.

“Okay.” Owen agreed. 

“We should get some sleep.” Charlie said after a moment and Owen nodded, placing once last kiss to Charlie’s lips. 

“Sounds good. I love you.” He whispered, and Charlie could already feel himself drifting off as he whispered a response. 

“I love you too Owen.” 

[nctsjiho]

Thank You

warnings: predebut JiHo is just Jiho, so don’t get triggered by the spelling ^^ besides that there are none

❀ Jiho and Doyoung trying to be nice towards each other

“Doyoung-ah.” “Hey! Shouldn’t you be respectful towards your senior?” Said senior turned to face the girl who had just “disrespected” him only to find a playful grin on her face. “I’m sorry~” She sang before looking at the view they got from their company building’s rooftop.

Jiho didn’t say anything else for a few minutes afterwards. She just followed the cars in the distance with her gaze and a peaceful look on her face, but Doyoung knew better. Something had been troubling the 16-year-old girl - which could have been a plethora of things with her debut coming up soon - but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“What’s wrong Jiho?” Doyoung asked as he leaned his arms against the railing of the roof, his eyes falling on the darkening sky. A sigh escaped the girl’s lips. “Thank you...” A moment passed. “Thank you for everything.”

The older one of the two was taken aback by the sudden expression of gratefulness and it took him a second before his brain could fully comprehend what just happened. “Why- I mean why so suddenly? Is something going on?” Doyoung faced Jiho to find her already looking at him but quickly trying to avert her eyes away from him. She cleared her throat before talking again. “It’s just you’ve been there from day one, and I know you were just being a good senior trying to help out. But even after it was announced that I’d be joining NCT...”

“Jiho-” She looked him in the eyes, seemingly having found the courage she lacked only a few seconds ago. “Even after that, you still continued to look after me and help me out. Even when you are an idol now and you’ve only known me for 2 years... even after all of that...” She stopped to take a breath, having realised how fast she was speaking. “You take care of me, and I want to say thank you for that.” Doyoung smiled, a fuzzy feeling spreading in his body and suddenly he started laughing, making the girl confused.

“You’re so cute.” He said once again looking towards the view. “I’m not-” “Some people find you a little intimidating and bold, but you’re just a really nice person.” When Doyoung didn’t get a response he looked at the girl who was looking back at him with a some would say, disgusted facial expression. “What’s with that face?” He laughed and pointed at her. “Don’t call me cute and nice, it’s gross.” The boy scoffed bemused. “But you’ll let Eunhyuk sunbaenim call you those things?” He raised his brow, already thinking he won the argument. “Yes, I do. Because it doesn’t sound gross coming from his mouth.” She smiled teasingly, causing the boy to drop his head back in defeat and groan a simple, “Ah I can’t with this girl.”

The duo spent a few more minutes outside, the cold air brushed their youthful faces and tinged their noses and cheeks with a red colour. “Let’s go it’s getting cold.” Jiho broke the peaceful silence, ready to surround her with inside’s warmth. “Wait-” Doyoung stopped the girl by grabbing her wrist before she could get too far. She hummed and looked at the older boy, who promptly let go of her wrist. “You know I’m always here for you right? So whenever-” “Ugh! Don’t become all sentimental now.” Jiho groaned as if annoyed, but the smile was clear in her voice. “Hey! I didn’t act this childish when you were thanking me for how amazing of a person I am to you.” Doyoung defended himself and laid emphasis on the word ‘amazing’. Without another word, Jiho made her way to the rooftop entrance/exit. Doyoung rolled his eyes following the girl inside. 

As the two got back to one of the small practise rooms, where they had left their bags before visiting the rooftop, they started packing up their belongings. They hadn’t mentioned their previous conversation, even acting as if nothing had been said at all, while they made their way to the elevator. Jiho had yet to move in with the boys so when they arrived at the front of the building, the duo went their separate ways, only waving each other out with a quick “goodbye”.

That evening the boys at the NCT dorm had planned a game night. Lots of laughter and bickering had filled up the room, but Doyoung had chosen to stay on the sidelines and watch from afar as Haechan and Johnny were about to begin a playful fight. He rolled his eyes at the sight of their youngest getting on the second oldest nerves but quickly followed it with a laugh.

“Hey Doyoung, we’re about to play Mariokart with Yuta and Jaehyun. Want to join?” Taeyong had approached the boy who had been separating himself from that night’s activities. “Are you okay?” Doyoung quickly nodded his head with a smile, not wanting Taeyong to get the wrong idea. “Just a bit tired.” Taeyong nodded understanding the feeling all to well. “Are you still down to join though?” Before Doyoung could answer he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

From 지오이🥒

“I know you’re always there for me so thank you I want to be there for you too whenever you need me”

“or not I’m not ur mother ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ “

Trying to hold back a laugh at the young girl’s antics he instead chuckled and put his phone away, before looking back at Taeyong who’s interest seemed to peak at Doyoung’s reaction. “Yes, I’m down to join. I’ll beat you this time for sure”

---

Side note:  지오이 pronounced ‘Ji-o-ee” comes from 지호 ‘Jiho’, her name, and 오이 ‘oi” or “o-ee”, which means cucumber in Korean along with the cucumber (or pickle) emoji  🥒

[breitzbachbea]

📓?? 👀

Okay, okay, okay, so -

Put “📓” or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I’ll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven’t written but daydream about.

The Ancient Olympics AU (which I talked about with @crispyliza )

This AU came into being after I relistened to the "The Ancient Olympics" episode of the history/comedy podcast "You're Dead To Me". It had the interesting information that a lot of Olympic winners actually came from Sicily & South Italy! So naturally I began to wonder what might have happened if my Sicilians ended up in Olympia ...

Dramatis Personae:

- Michele Vento (APH Sicily, my OC) as Trainer of the Bontade Twins - Marco & Lorenzo Bontade (Human OCs of mine) as Athletes from Syracuse - Herakles Karpuzi (APH Greece) as Athlete from Athens - Timothea Simonides (Human OC) as Herakles' Trainer - Omar Simonides (Human OC) as ... Good question? Co-Trainer to Thea ig

The Happenings™:

- Lorenzo and Marco want to compete in the upcoming Olympics as runners. Michele,probably a distant relative to them who lives close, becomes their trainer.

- The Sicilians roll up to Olympia, most likely a few days early because travelling is an adventure in these days and it doesn't hurt to have a few extra days to get accustomed to the terrain.

- Michele also definitely loses the Bontade twins 10 minutes after arriving at the sanctuary bc he wasn't looking for 0.5 seconds. So now he lost his boys at a place that currently contains approximately half of Magna Graecia.

- The reason he wasn't paying attention? Some athletes were preparing themselves nearby, bucknaked of course. Amongst them Herakles. Michele has always been a sucker for strong arms and legs, so that plus Herakles' beautiful face has him swooning from the get go.

- After he recollects his twins, they spend the next few days training, as do the other athletes, which is when Herakles notices Michele's looks.

- Christina (crispyliza) had the galaxy brain idea that Herakles intentionally flirts with Michele to sabotage the Bontades success at the games. It's an idea that he comes up with together with the Simonides - to be completely fair, it was probably Timothea's. Omar: "My, looks like you've got a fanboy." Herakles: "And what a pretty one at that." Timothea: "He seems to be a bit shy about it, though. Or maybe he's actually after those twin brothers?" (They figure out he's the Bontades trainer) Timothea: "Oh, he's a trainer! Pretty sucky at his job though if he's oogling the competition so much." Omar: "All the better for us, though." Timothea: -oil lamp ignites over her head bc light bulbs aren't invented yet-

- While we're at the Simonides: This was before it was mandatory for everyone to be naked, so Timothea managed to sneak into the games by posing as a man. Omar helps her with it, since he's trans and thusly got experience. Christina also had the hilarious idea of them having fake beards, which is just, YES. Timothea definitely cut her hair and they made whatever beard is in fashion in Athens at the time out of them. Their mother Natasa used to be a famed winner of the Heraea, the woman's games also held in Olympia.

- So let the games GreSic flirting begin

- The Problem: Michele doesn't want his boys to think he's betraying them for a rival athlete. He also really wants Herakles to rail him. The Solution: Find ways to be sneaky and secretive about it so the twins don't have to find out. Here is one of the possible scenarios I had for this: "When I first thought about this, I also had this scene in my head. Idk how accurate it works, bc it involves a tent and in the ydtm episode they didn't mention how people were housed during the games. (Like, I am sure there were guest houses, the temples probably offered some places to sleep, both of that but in upscale fancy for all the rich and important people attending yadda yadda.) Do you know that trope(?) when someone has sex but is trying to hide it? That. Just Michele sticking his head out of the tent, clutching at the fabric to keep everything else closed. Tells his twins, who looked for him, he is kind of busy rn. Tries is best to hide the fact of what is actually happening and to make them leave. It works. Kind of. Because as soon as they are gone, Michele sighs with a :| look and tells Hera to stop. "But why?" "Because you would have to nail every corner of this tent down and then they'd still find a way to spy!" Which is exactly what the twins ARE doing. They are trying their best to get an unnoticed peak from one place of the tent. But because it has to be subtle, all they get to see is feet and they either don't hear them or don't recognize Herakles' voice. I don't think he is the person to go out of his way to pick on people or pick fights in general, so they probably haven't had much interaction. So Michele smoothes out his chiton annoyed and leaves the tent, to then just stomp around enough for the twins to notice him and pretend they weren't doing what he knew they were doing."

- One day however, Marco & Lorenzo are missing their trainer and can't find him. They run into Thea & Omar, who are missing their athlete. Hm. Weird. Wonder what's that all about :)

- They end up catching Michele and Herakles in the act, just out there somewhere underneath a tree, which, naturally, makes the Bontades VERY upset. Lorenzo: "What do you think you are doing?!" Omar, in his head: 'Herakles, obviously.' Marco: "He's the COMPETITION, Michele!" Both: "You've left us all alone for THAT?!" Since the Simonides were in on the whole thing, they're not surprised just disappointed that Herakles vanished without a heads up. "Well, that ain't sprinting practice."

- The most hilarious thing is that could not even tell you who wins the race. I didn't even think about that part until yesterday. I'm kind of particular to the thought that it's somewhat of a photo finish with the three of them, but the twins come out on top. Since there can only be one winner, they flippantly let one of them be chosen by the equivalent of a coin toss. So technically, either Marco or Lorenzo has won, but they keep both parading around with the wreath and insist that the inscription to them mentions them both as winners. Now, if they got their way is another story, I didn't read any academic articles on this at. all.

- Second place is as good as last in the Ancient Greek world, but Herakles takes the loss in stride. Timothea is probably the one who's most upset. Marco: "Hah, so all your flexing - " Lorenzo: "and all your fucking for nothing in the end!" Michele: "Hey, I'd like to think I'm a reward in and of myself, not an obstacle."

Sequel Bait:

- Back home in Siracusa, Michele gets asked if he doesn't want to train his cousins, too. The ones from Neapolis. The ones Michele can't stand. However, his mother talks him into it and he agrees. Extra funny because Lovino & Feliciano were also talked into it by THEIR parents. So Michele spends the next four years butting heads with Lovino, knowing fully well their mother will rip his head off if they don't do well. Lovino is of course hiding his giant insecurities about disappointing his loving father & mother behind snark. Michele will arrive at Olympia with four athletes in two this time and looks like he aged 40, not 4 years from all the stress.

- Herakles is no competition this time, though! He wants to try his hand at wrestling this year. However, very quickly after his arrival, he butts heads with a fellow wrestler from one of the Greek colonies in Asia minor. Only thing's more annoying than his big mouth, which he shares with his wrestling buddy, are probably the flirtations coming out of it & Herakles can't wait to show him his place. (Yes, I do know that the Turkish people came into the area that is modern day Turkey far, far later, he should be of another ethnicity [and he gotta be Greek to participate, anyways] but. Is any of you really going to deny me Herakles and Sadık wrestling, bucknaked, covered in oil? I'd hope the fuck not.)

[nohoney]

Do It For Me -3.1

notes: Part 3 of the Us Series from my ao3

characters: Dabi/Touya Todoroki, Keigo Takami/Hawks, Tomura Shigaraki

warnings: 18+, drug use, toxic relationships, polyamory

summary:

As curious as you are, you’ve already been warned by Keigo to not even attempt to ask about it. If Keigo got mad at you for even asking in the first place, no doubt that Touya would be furious at you. And there was no way in hell you were even going to think about investigating this on your own; not only were you not equipped to even do so in the first place, you had a strong gut feeling about this situation.

Keigo had told you before you went to sleep in his bed last night, “I know it might be frustrating for you to not be in the know dove, but trust me when I say that if Touya doesn’t want you to know something, it’s for your own good.”

3.1 ✧ 3.2 ✧ 3.3

Touya tends to keep you out of the loop on certain things, wanting to be as vague as possible sometimes if you do happen to ask. Like when you asked why he bothered attending university, he simply said that it was because his mother wanted him to and that was all that you got out of it. When you tried to probe further, he had snapped at you and left to go have a smoke. At ten months in the relationship, you’ve learned that if he didn’t want to tell you something, there was no way that you could change his mind.

Only Touya tells you what you need to know or not know.

The only thing you’re really curious about is some of his background, mostly about his family and his upbringing. As far as you’ve seen and heard, he’s the oldest of his siblings—two brothers and one sister— and he doesn’t necessarily get along too well with them from what he’s passively mentioned. He seems close with his mom, you’ve heard him talk on the phone with her sometimes, but no mention of his dad. You think it’s safe to assume that his family probably doesn’t know that he deals but you won’t dare ask him, it seems like a sensitive subject.

Speaking of dealing, you slip cash into his pocket while he cooks on the stovetop and pat his backside. Touya just chuckles and nods his head towards his jacket that’s tossed onto the couch. You reach into the inner pocket and pull out a little baggy of half gram of coke, putting it into the inner pocket inside your purse. One of your friends had asked if you could drop off cash to Touya to buy off of him and you could drop it off when you go to class next time you see her. “Yumi says thanks in advance, she says that she got her other connect’s coke the other day but that it’s just not as good as yours.”

“Heh, of course it’s not. Tell her that if she cheats again then I’m going to cut her off.” Touya jokes as he stirs the pot before lowering the gas on the stove and putting the lid on top. He rolls his shoulders briefly and walks away from the kitchen to let the food in the pot simmer for a little bit. “Keep an eye out on the food, I’m going to shower really quick.”

“Sure thing.” You make yourself comfortable on the sofa and just scroll through your social media on your phone, replying to certain messages or sharing posts to friends. Keigo texts you to as if you’re going with Touya to the next house party and that if you’re not, he’s more than happy to keep you company if you want to stay in and wait for Touya to get back. You smile down at his message and just send back a simple ‘we’ll see’ with a smiling emoji. Enough time has passed where you think you should go check on the food, just stirring it to make sure the food doesn’t burn on the bottom of the pot. As you sample your boyfriend’s cooking and add just a little bit more salt to taste, someone knocks on the door.

Touya doesn’t really get visitors aside from you and Keigo so you wonder who could be at his front door.

When you peek your head out through crack as much as the chain will allow, you see a young man dressed in a hoodie with his hands in his pockets. He seems to be as surprised as you are when you answer the door, his lips thinning into a line briefly before asking, “Is Dabi here?”

“Who’s asking?” you’re cautious because you’ve never seen this guy before. He’s got a rather distinct appearance, he seems sickly with his pale skin, messy blue hair and these scary red eyes you’ve never seen on anyone else before.

“Shigaraki.” And he says nothing more.

You have half a mind to lie and say that Touya’s not here but you hear the door to the bathroom open just in time, he walks out in fresh clothes and a towel around his neck. “What are you doing there doll?”

“Uh there’s a guy here, says his name is Shigaraki. He’s looking for you.”

Touya’s eyes narrow at the name before he walks towards you, setting you to the side and undoing the chain on the door. He lets this mysterious man in and shuts the door, the atmosphere suddenly very tense. You shift your weight from one foot to the other and look to Touya expectantly. Whoever the guest is, he only gives you a brief once over before looking to your boyfriend and says, “We need to talk, just the two of us.”

“Well that works out because my girl here was just about to head to the store.” you meet his gaze as Touya turns to look at you. “I know it’s a bitch babe, but the ingredients we want are in that fancy market that’s fifteen minutes away. It shouldn’t take you longer than ten minutes to get everything though. Make sure to stop by and get gas on the way back for the car, put down a twenty and I’ll reimburse you later.”

You’ve been with Touya long enough to know when he’s talking in code. Fifteen and ten, be gone for at least twenty-five minutes, possibly an extra twenty making it forty-five in total. So you play along and collect your sweater and purse, making sure you have everything before skedaddling out the door, no goodbye kiss unfortunately. You’re pretty much kicked out for the time being and you don’t even know why. “I guess I might as well drop off the half…”

Forty-five minutes pass but Touya hasn’t given you the okay yet to return. You think that maybe you need to wait an extra while longer so you wait outside his complex just a bit longer with your phone in your hand and anticipating his text. When it gets close to an hour since you’ve left, you decide to ask first if it’s okay that you return. Your phone pings immediately with a response.

Go stay with Keigo.

And that’s all you get, no explanation or even a time when you can see him again.

So you stay with Keigo at his place, exactly like he told you to and provides a distraction for the time being. The two of you cook together, laughing over the dinner you made as he tells you about a funny joke he heard earlier, cleaning up after yourselves when the meal is all finished, and then washing up together in his bathroom. He’s such a tease as he massages body wash all over you, pressing into a sensitive spot in your back or his fingers ghosting over your clit. He works you up to the point that you beg to be fucked, whining when you’re only given a teasing smile and just a nibble to your ear. “Please Keigo, no more teasing!”

He could be such a cheeky bastard though, ignoring your pouting but still has the audacity to touch you all over. “You know the acoustics in the bathroom always sound better, don’t you think?”

“Keigo!” you whine, your arms coming up and looping just right behind his neck. His cock is getting hard, you can feel it against your leg, so you don’t know why he’s not bothering to just take you right then and there. “You’re being a dick!”

“You know why acoustics are better in the bathroom (Name)?” he asks as his hands skim over your back and ignores your whines. “I’m asking you a question.”

“How am I suppose to know?”

Keigo chuckles at you and pushes you to lean against the back wall of the shower. He takes your wrists and holds them together in one hand, pushing them above your head so that your entirely exposed to him. He grabs his cock in his free hand and teases the head of it against your click, relishing your yelp when he slaps it against your sensitive pearl. “Just a little fun fact for you, acoustics in the shower sound better because you’re surrounded by hard, smooth surfaces that bounce back to you. So while the sounds are bouncing around, your voice sounds more pronounced, it takes longer to reach your ears and sounds more enriched. Isn’t that so interesting?”

You whine petulantly at him, asking why he’s telling you this in the first place.

“I guess what I’m saying is songbird,” Keigo releases your hands and quickly turns you around to make you brace against the wall, jutting your ass out towards him with his hands set firmly on your hips. “sing me a pretty song, yeah?”

Your voice echoes as Keigo rails you on his cock and your wet skin slapping against each other sounding particularly lewd. The shower is still running with warm water and steam clouds the bathroom but you feel even warmer as you push back to meet Keigo’s thrusts. One of his hands slide up your spine, warm fingers reaching up to tangle in your hair and pull your head back. You’re choked up, voice strangling to come out with your head angled back and your fingers trying to find purchase on something to hold onto.

He’s merciless, he won’t let you catch a break. Keigo pulls you back against him, one arm around your waist to hold you close and the other at your throat. There are heavy breaths in your ear, low growls and a rough command of, “Touch yourself.” Your fingers messily rub your clit, not using any kind of technique because honestly Keigo is fucking your brains out so you are acting on instinct. Breathless whimpers fall out of your lips, barely registering when you feel soft kisses against your temple.

“Fucking cum with me songbird, hit that last note for me huh?” Keigo growls into your ear, just about ready to cum. It’s more than just your cunt that’s getting him off, he loves to hear your voice as he makes a mess of you. He just wants to listen to your voice, it appeals more to his senses during sex more than anything else. Touya gets nudes from you, Keigo gets audio recordings of you moaning. “Say you wanna cum with me, say it.”

“Wanna cum with Kei… pleas’ make me cum…” you slur, your brain fucked out and just letting yourself be used. “Kei, les’ cum together…”

Your bent over as Keigo fucks harshly into your body, lewd praises echoing inside the bathroom as you beautiful cries rip from your throat. You have one hand braced on the wall of the shower and the other on the floor, just holding on for dear life and only able to moan and cry out his name. You’re thankful for him, thankful for his kindness, his patience, and his cock. Your orgasm hits you hard to the point that you see stars in your vision, unable to hold yourself up and dropping your weight. Luckily Keigo’s got you, happy to hold you like the little fucked out rag doll you are as he finished inside you.

The shower still runs and steam still curls in the air as the two of you catch your breath. He’s still hard inside you, thrusting just a few more times to overstimulate himself a little before pulling out. Any cum that leaks out of your pussy is washed away, you want to clench to hold as much inside you as you can.

Keigo towels you off first before drying himself, lending you one of his shirts to wear and tells you to wait on his bed like a good girl.

So you wait like the good girl you are, staring at your phone and waiting to hear back from Touya.

I miss him. You think to yourself and wonder what Touya could possibly be doing. It’s late in the evening now and he hasn’t given you an update about where he is and what he’s doing. A part of you is tempted to just go back to his apartment and wait for him there but you have a feeling that he sent you to Keigo to make you stay put. He trusts Keigo more than anyone else to look after you, to keep you warm and loved when he’s away.

A movie plays on Keigo’s laptop as the two of you are curled on the bed, him being the big spoon and an arm loosely draped over your waist. You sink your cheek into the soft pillow and idly reach a hand up to touch Keigo, giggling a little when the tips of your fingers brush against his chin stubble. He kisses your hand and sets it back in place against your chest, snuggling behind you to continue watching the movie.

A question rings through your mind and you wonder if he can answer it.

“Baby bird?” Keigo looks to you when you reach out and pause the movie. “Did you need a pee break?”

You adjust your position so that you can look up at him. “Who’s Shigaraki?”

His face doesn’t betray anything, keeping it straight and just looking down at you. “How do you know that name?”

“He came by Touya’s place while I was there, he said he had something to talk about with him and then I got sent out.”

Touya must have let Keigo know something, seeing as when you arrived he already had things ready in his apartment for you by the time you arrived. Keigo brushes his thumb idly against your cheek, slowly running the pad of it back and forth on your cheekbone rather lovingly even though his face doesn’t reflect his action. “If Touya’s never mentioned Shigaraki to you after all this time then that means he doesn’t want you to know about him. He has his reasons, alright dove?”

“So you know about Shigaraki?” you ask with a curious tilt to your head. With a confirming nod you can’t help but ask still who exactly he is. “Touya never lets anyone in at his place but that Shigaraki guy was let in, but he called him Dabi so he’s not close to him like that. He looked kinda young, I’ve never seen a guy like him around campus.”

“I’m not telling you anything dove, just let it go.” There’s a hint of a warning behind his tone but you don’t heed it, talking more and asking why you can’t know. “(Name), I’m putting my foot down. Do not ask me or Touya about Shigaraki. Now drop it, do not bring this up again or you’re going to piss me off.”

Keigo’s never spoken to you in that manner so it catches you off guard. He usually speaks with such a casual lilt and is very easy going about anything and everything. It’s something of a shock to you that you almost can’t comprehend it, looking down like a scolded child and mumbling out a quiet ‘okay’. He feels bad instantly having to have to talk to you that way but he had to convey just how much you could not breach this subject. He leans down to kiss your forehead, muttering apologies and bringing you into his arms to hold you tight. “Don’t ask Touya okay, he’ll get upset if you do. C’mon, let’s keep watching the movie.”

Touya contacts you the next morning to ask if you’re still with Keigo, to which you answer yes and ask where he is. He doesn’t give a proper answer and simply tells you that he’ll return early tomorrow morning. “Touya, I didn’t even get to kiss you goodbye yesterday if I had known that you were just going to disappear on me.”

“I’ll kiss you tomorrow when I see you princess, alright? Be good for me.”

He hangs up and you just stare at the lockscreen of your phone for a few seconds before sighing and setting down your phone. Touya wasn’t one for lying, he always told the truth if not at least keep quiet about what he didn't want to talk about, but it was rare when you could get him to admit something he doesn’t want you to know. Sure it’s fine to not have to know everything about your partner but this felt… weird. Somehow it feels worse than the three other girls he still fucks every once in a while when he goes out. The whores he was honest and upfront about, whatever is going on with this Shigaraki is entirely different business.

As curious as you are, you’ve already been warned by Keigo to not even attempt to ask about it. If Keigo got mad at you for even asking in the first place, no doubt that Touya would be furious at you. And there was no way in hell you were even going to think about investigating this on your own; not only were you not equipped to even do so in the first place, you had a strong gut feeling about this situation.

Keigo had told you before you went to sleep in his bed last night, “I know it might be frustrating for you to not be in the know dove, but trust me when I say that if Touya doesn’t want you to know something, it’s for your own good.”

You believed Keigo but it didn’t really provide any comfort to you.

‘I miss you, come back soon’ You text him, it feels stupid seeing as you saw him yesterday but you hadn’t anticipated that you wouldn’t be returning to his apartment when he sent you out. Though to be fair, he probably didn’t expect it either. If there was one thing that had been made apparent while analyzing your boyfriend was his need to know about your whereabouts no matter what and ease his anxiety about who would be around you when you went out without him. Maybe that’s just how he loves you, just unrefined and not quite polished just yet.

Your phone pings a several hours later from Touya. ‘Miss you.’

━━━━✧

All you can do is just wait and sit pretty for him when he gets back.

Keigo drops you off at Touya’s the next day, parting with a lingering kiss before going on his merry way.

When you enter the apartment, you see Touya resting on the sofa along with a small rectangular sized bag on the coffee table. You're curious if it's Touya's, never seeing this kind of bag before and undo the clips and the zipper of the bag and curiously lift the top, an assortment of drugs siting inside. One of the few first you recognize is Adderall, ecstasy, cocaine, and shrooms. The pills are separated in those orange prescription bottles and the rest are in little plastic baggies. You’ve never been around whenever Touya gets a refresh of his inventory, always making you wait a day or two before he allows you back into his place. Wherever he hides it in his apartment, you’ve never once stumbled on it. Yet here it is, just out in the open and you just had to be curious and look inside. You close up the bag and fasten the clips on it before sitting on the edge of the sofa, careful to not disturb Touya.

You wonder if that Shigaraki guy is his supplier, if not at least connected to his supplier.

“If it isn’t my pretty doll…”

You jump at the sound of Touya’s voice, quickly looking behind you and catching his sleepy gaze and a lazy smile. He’s been sleepy around you plenty of times and you know what he’s like when he’s high, but there’s something different about his expression and movements this time that unsettles you. The only thing that comes to mind is that he might have tried something new and that scares you. “Baby? Are you on something?”

Touya gives you a slow nod in answer, his hand reaching out and weakly grabbing your bicep. He gives a light tug and makes you lean over towards him, soft coos of ‘my baby’, ‘pretty doll’ and ‘princess’ pass through his lips. When you ask what he’s on, he just slowly shakes his head and laughs lowly. “Can’t tell you baby, it’s not for you… Shit like this isn’t for my good girl.”

“Oh but it’s okay for you?” you ask with mild irritation. You take his hand and press your cheek into his palm, delicately holding his wrist and looking down at him with crinkled brows. “Well whatever you’re on, do I have to get the Narcan?”

“My smart doll looking out for me… you remember where it is?”

“Oh my god, Touya please don’t tell me that I actually have to be on the lookout for you in case you overdose. I don’t think that’s something I can handle.” You’re anxious now as you go into his bedroom and retrieve the Narcan from his bedside table, keeping it on hand when you go back to sit on the couch with him. Touya’s tolerance for narcotics is pretty high but on some level you still fear that something might happen. “Do I have to call Keigo?”

He answers with a lazy shake of his head, his hand idly rubbing your thigh as you look down worriedly at him. Glancing over to the case and then at you, he asks, “You look inside it?”

You’re not a bad liar by any means but Touya is a master of smelling bullshit, so there’s no point in trying to lie to lie to him in the first place even if he is high at the moment. “Yeah…”

“Anything in there you want to try?” His fingers drum against the denim jeans you wear before lifting to play with the belt loop. “If you want to try anything new, what’s the rule doll?”

“Never from someone else, only from you.”

As if you needed a reminder.

That rule was established shortly after deciding to sleep with Keigo. You were invited to a kickback with a small group of your friends who also brought some of their friends, you were all just sitting around the kitchen island and drinking, at least that’s what you thought that was all you were going to do. You got a little drunk that night and one of your girlfriends presented a sugar cube to you held carefully in between her thumb and forefinger. You didn’t think anything of it in your drunken state of mind, you were complaining earlier that night that you wanted something sweet so you thought she was just satisfying your sugar craving. After about half an hour, your vision began to distort, different colors suddenly washing over the crowd of people you were hanging out with and you asked what was happening.

It turned out that the sugar cube you ate was laced with LSD.

Your friends had tried to calm you down, telling you that you’ll ruin your come up but it was too late. “You gave me acid! I’m not ready to try acid, you should have told me!” The timeline of that night was fuzzy and you can’t remember if it was you or someone else who called Touya and Keigo, but needless to say they were angry upon arrival when they found you distraught in a corner inside the house. Even during your bad trip, you could taste Touya’s fury when he tried to find out who had given you LSD without telling you while Keigo was trying to soothe you. You were promptly taken away from the party and the boys watched over you for the remainder of your trip, staying up with you with the help of four grams of coke to help keep them alert for a little over twelve hours while keeping you quarantined inside Touya’s place.

Touya had declared not too long after that you were not allowed to take any kind of narcotic from anyone else but him from now on. When you asked the boys what had happened at the party when they showed up, both of them remained silent. The ones from the kickback who were trip sitting, they refused to answer your questions to fill in the blank of what happened that night. You suspect that Touya might have threatened them into silence but there was no definitive proof, you don’t want to recall the memory because all you remember was the anxiety, the strange distortions of shapes your mind could never produce while sober, and at one point telling Touya that you could ‘hear how hungry his couch was’.

Keigo tells you that they should have micro dosed you instead by dissolving the sugar cube into a glass of water and just had you take a sip because that’s how he had it his first time. Touya just straight up does not like it at all, he hated his first and only trip on acid. Either way you would not be ready to try it again at all anytime soon.

Never once have you had to watch over Touya while he’s high, he’s usually the one doing the watching seeing as he had a better handle on his tolerance versus you who’s experience was just a step up from novice. But you keep a careful eye on him as he drifts back to sleep, keeping a glass of water and the Narcan nearby, running your hand through his hair. The roots are growing out, white contrasting with the black hair dye you’re used to helping him do. Touya’s been talking recently about washing out the black for a while just to give himself a break. You’ve seen a few photos of Touya with his natural hair color, courtesy of Keigo, and he’s just as handsome no matter what.

You stare at him while he sleeps, a pillow propped up behind his head and his hands resting on his stomach. He still hasn’t kissed you like he promised he would yesterday on the phone, so you lean down to fulfill it for him. No response, like you expected, but at least you got to do it.

He’s sober a few hours later, though still just a bit sluggish from whatever it was he took and the bag is put away in the room but you don’t know where. Whatever food was made the day before yesterday, you see it in a container inside the fridge and the pot still sitting in the dish wrack. At least whatever dinner you were supposed to have together the other day wasn’t put to waste and Touya went through the trouble of making sure you could have it later on. So you warm up a portion of it in a small pot and just stir, barely moving as Touya comes up and hugs you from behind. His arms come around your waist and presses right up against you. “You’re not going to ask?”

“Ask about what?” you continue to stir the food in the little pot.

“About what happened the other day?” Touya brings his hands to cup just underneath your breasts and slightly sways in place, your body following along with his movements. “Not curious at all?”

You shrug your shoulders, thinking of what Keigo said the other day and his usual approach to things in life. You channel him inside you and just act cool, casual, and whatever about it. “I figured you would have explained yourself by now if you wanted me to know. You’re usually so straight forward about everything.”

Touya makes you tilt your head up to look at him with a slight nod of approval. “Good girl.”

God the way your heart flutters when he gives you praise over the simplest things… even over something suspicious like this.

You do feel the need to ask, “Is that person someone I’ll be seeing more of?”

“If things were one hundred percent in my control then you would have never caught a glimpse of him in the first place. But to answer your question, you shouldn’t be, he doesn’t ever drop in like that. He wasn’t interested in you when he came by thankfully.”

You should know better than to ask because you’ll know it’ll make Touya seethe but you do anyway, “Well what would you have done if he looked at me a certain way? Set him on fire?”

“To finish him off after a slow torture, yeah.” Touya spits through gritted teeth and reaches over you to turn off the gas to the stovetop. “The shit I’d do to some guys for fucking staring too long at you…”

You could relate, you’ve had some vivid fantasies sometimes about the side whores and just straight up eliminating them in the most violent way possible. Not just stupid hair pulling or petty name calling, you imagined inflicting blunt trauma in certain fatal areas or having them tied up in the middle of the road while you sat in the driver’s seat of Touya’s car, revving the engine and just speed down to get to them as soon as possible.

Touya probably had more imagination for what he’d do to anyone he thought was a threat but you’re not going to open that door. So you turn around in his arms and rest one hand at the nape of his neck, your fingers massaging gently and you assure him, “Hey relax, I’m yours Touya.”

“Yeah… you’re mine.” Touya sighs in what seems like relief as he leans down to hug you. “You’re my doll, no one else’s.”

You won’t bring up Keigo and the fact that you’re being shared with him, it feels like Touya needs the reassurance right now that it really is just the two of you. In these moments you realize that his insecurities are thinly unveiled, not quite put out there but just peeking out the corner and hoping to not be noticed. So you say it again and he tells you how much he likes when you say his name, that when it falls out of your pretty lips that he can’t help but want you to scream it until your voice is raw and hoarse. “Only you can call me that doll, it’s all yours.”

Not Dabi, haven’t used that name in months.

“Touya, Touya…” you whisper in between breathless kisses, gasping as you’re pulled away from the kitchen to the bedroom. Guess that food will go cold once again…

Touya’s body isn’t in top condition yet to have sex but he pulls off your bottoms when he pushes you to lie back on the bed. There have been night’s a plenty where either you serviced Touya strictly and vice versa for you, though most of the time you just loved to fuck. Fuck when you’re happy, upset, a little drunk, or bored and all that; there’s nothing like feeling close to Touya when he’s inside of you. He’s unlike any other partner you’ve had before, no one is as hypnotizing as him, you’ve never been drawn in to anyone else like Touya before.

And he’s as entranced by you, if not more.

Kisses pressed into the inside of your thighs along with playful nips and teasing licks on your sensitive skin. He knows exactly where to touch you where you’ll practically beg for him and the right words to use to make you desperate because Touya’s not afraid to hold out on you if he wants to. He likes to see you frustrated and worked up, if he wants to pull out to edge you for the rest of the night, he’ll do so and ignore your pretty cries and desperate pleas that you’ll do anything for him as long as you can cum on his cock. Most of the time he gives in because, well, he loves your pussy and he loves fucking you. But fuck when Touya decides to be sadistic, the role always suits him quite well.

Not tonight though, no delicious sadistic edging or degradation. Touya knows that he made you worry the day before so he wants to make it up to you in best way he knows how to. He wishes that he could use his dick properly right now to fuck you but his body is still trying to process the shit he took earlier so it’ll just have to be his mouth and hands for the moment to get you off.

It’s not hard to get you to cum, there have been instances where as soon as his dick sheathes into your pussy you gush on the spot. There are days like that where it’s just that easy and other days where you need it angled just the right way inside you or the right words to fire off your imagination. “Fucking love it when you squirm like this, so goddamn cute.” Touya growls as he drags the pads of his fingers against your G-spot before flicking his tongue on your clit.

Those words help but it’s not quite what will set you off.

“Say more.”

So he does, finding the right combination of words, adjectives, proper nouns, and verbs to stimulate your mind while stimulating your pussy. It’s vivid and a pretty picture, more than just a pretty picture because he describes actual memories of the steamiest and sordid encounters. The first time you fucked on the fourth floor of the library way in the very back, the day you skipped your afternoon lectures to day drink at a brewery and just made out in his car, skinny dipping at night at the local pool, and one time you sucked his cock while he was on the headset and playing games online with Keigo.

You’re just about there, heavy breaths and panting exiting from your body as your toes curl and your fingers twist the sheets in your hand.

Touya could say more about how much he loves to fuck you seven ways to Sunday, all the kinks he still hasn’t tried with you yet and is excited to try when you’re ready, that he wants you to cum all over his fucking face and lick your sensitive cunt until you can’t take it anymore. You’ve heard it before, some more than others, but it’s not those words that make you come undone before him tonight. It’s not the images of past passionate encounters and the anticipation of getting fucked by Touya that do make you cum all over his face like he wanted.

He spouts that shit frequently but tonight he says something different, something that in the back of your mind that you were probably aware of but he never voiced out loud. When the words leave his mouth and are spoken out to you, it’s a new type of intimacy and sentiment that elevates you and makes you realize how deep you’re in this with him, how deep he is in you… emotionally.

“I’d do fucking anything for you.”

Bullet one.

You choke up, it’s not that you want to cry because how moving those words were but because the revolver is loaded and he just fired the first bullet in the chamber that will undoubtedly lead you to an intense orgasm.

“Never had this with anyone else.”

Bullet two.

“I don’t want this with anyone else, believe me.”

Bullet three.

“I don’t fucking deserve you but I’ll do what it takes to keep you with me.”

Bullet four.

“It’s scares me doll but I…”

Bullet five… will he say it?

“I’d do it all for you.”

Bullet six.

The chamber is empty and the barrel of the gun wisps smoke, your back is arched as your whole body convulses with an earth shattering orgasm that you’re literally left shaking from how powerful it was. And Touya continues to speak those words from bullet one, “I’d do fucking anything for you.”

And he is, Keigo unveiled that, the whores are dwindling not by your request but by Touya’s conscious choice. He’s choosing you, slowly but surely, there will only be you if the cards are dealt right. No one has been in his bed the way you’re invited in, hasn’t held anyone else the way he does with you, and more than likely has not been this vulnerable with someone else either. He’s terrible at feelings, still gets his dick wet sometimes when he sells to his side whores, and he withholds certain secrets to keep you safe.

Should I say it?

You thought he’d say it, those deeper feelings that Keigo had accidentally unveiled, you thought he’d say ‘I love you’ tonight but this is a step closer to it. You won’t make him say it, you won’t beg for it, you’ll sit pretty and patient because Touya will come around. He may have his secrets but he releases the ones to you that are worth knowing, and you’ll get it so long as you’re good for him.

Don’t ask about the whores, it’s okay be jealous but don’t ask, don’t get into another argument. Don’t ask about where the drugs are from and if that Shigaraki guy is linked to it, he would have told you by now if he wanted you to know. Don’t ask to see another man because him and Keigo should be enough, they won’t treat you as good the way they are with you. Do whatever Touya wants of you and he’ll do it all for you in return.

[angst-fairygodmother]

“Are you planning to stay glued to my side this whole evening?” with diego alsooooo i love youuuuu

A/N: Thank you for choosing Fic Flash Pass (happy much-belated birthday). I would like to express through the following series of emojis how excited I am to finally write a fic for you: 😁💙💙🎉🎈😁 Word Count: 2517

Being close friends with Diego Hargreeves meant putting up with a lot of weird shit over the years. It meant late nights where he showed up injured or exhausted and needing your help. It meant occasional knives flying past your head when you startled him. It meant his paranoia and lectures about how it wasn’t safe to walk home alone at night, even though he had taken the time to teach you self-defense early on in your friendship. For a while it meant repeated “just for one night” instances of his strung-out brother sleeping on your couch (because he was refusing treatment, and even though he wouldn’t admit it Diego cared enough about him to want to make sure he’d be okay). And you put up with all of it, without complaint, because Diego was worth it. 

You thought at this point that nothing he asked of you could surprise you anymore. And then he asked you to attend his sister’s wedding. Or really, practically begged you to be his date.

You were pulling a bullet out of his shoulder, lecturing him about how he was taking too many unnecessary risks, and if he was going to keep going after bad guys then he needed to start wearing better protective gear and he was damn lucky that his knife-harness was there to mitigate the wound. 

“Allison’s getting married,” he blurted out, cutting you off before you could start in on the second, familiar branch of your lecture (that he should really be getting his wounds treated by someone with actual medical expertise, not just a little first aid training). 

“Oh,” you said, not quite a question but also not quite not. You weren’t sure what he wanted you to do with that information.

“I have to go to the wedding,” he continued stiffly. 

“That makes sense. She is your sister.” You raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t asking me to muck up this bullet removal so you have an excuse not to, are you?”

You were loath to admit that if that was indeed what he was asking, you might just do it. There wasn’t a lot you wouldn’t do if he asked, and after all this time you knew how to do it in a way that wouldn’t actually cause him worse harm. 

“I can’t go alone!” His eyes were wide and frightened, as if attending Allison’s wedding was a fate less than death that he had been asked to undertake. You couldn’t help but laugh at the expression. 

“I’m sure you can find a date, handsome guy like you. And Patch is still a friend, so she’d go. If only out of pity.” You smiled teasingly. 

“Will you…” he mumbled. “W-w-will you go with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Part of you questioned if you heard him correctly. But if anything, his stutter made it more sure than less. He only stuttered when something was really emotional for him, when his mind was fighting itself. But you didn’t understand why (or maybe you did and just didn’t want to admit it). 

“If you still want me to after the next five minutes,” you said, trying to calm your racing heart by collecting the supplies for the next part of his care. “Then I would be happy to go to your sister’s wedding with you, Diego. What else are friends for?”

“Why wouldn’t I--” his question was cut off with a shout of pain as you pressed a cloth soaked in antiseptic to the wound.

“Because of that,” you smirked, quickly cleaning the area and covering it over with gauze and binding.

~

The ballroom where the reception was held was beyond opulent: towering flower arrangements, crystal chandeliers and gleaming golden candelabras, and every spare inch draped in ivory silk. You could practically see yourself reflected in the polished surface of the floors. 

“Wow,” you breathed. “Your sister really spared no expense…”

Diego shrugged uncomfortably. “Allison’s always been a little dramatic,” he mumbled.

“It’s pretty,” you turned to smile at him. “Anyway, you should go mingle and at least say hello to her. I’m going to find our table.”

Diego followed you as you wandered off into the dining portion of the reception hall. When you raised a questioning eyebrow, he mumbled something about it making sense for him to know where the table was too, so he didn’t have to hunt later. You shrugged. 

After setting down your purse and shawl, you decided to mingle, maybe pick at a few of the hors d'oeuvres laid out on long, extravagant table displays. Once again, Diego trailed just behind you. You tried to ignore the oddity of the behavior as you picked up a shrimp puff and set it on one of the heavy little china plates. The fact that he wasn’t saying anything as he hovered annoyed you most of all. 

After the third conversation that you tried to have with other guests that ended in an awkward glance over your shoulder at a glowering Diego and a hasty retreat with a half-assed excuse, you decided you’d had enough. He hadn’t gone to offer his congratulations to Allison and Patrick. He hadn’t so much as looked around for his other siblings or anyone else he might know. He hadn’t eaten anything. He just...followed you. It was very odd behavior and it was getting on your last nerve.

Setting your empty dish down heavily on an empty table space, not even caring whose it was, you turned to him, arms folded over your chest.

“Alright, that’s it,” you snapped, not caring who might overhear. “What is going on with you?”

He frowned, puzzled and tried to deny that there was anything going on. 

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. You have been looming and lurking and following me around like a lost puppy since we got here. Are you planning to stay glued to my side this whole evening?”

His frown deepened, and he opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it shut again with an audible click. 

“Because if you are, the least you can do is dance with me.” You held out a hand. “It is a wedding after all.”

Hesitantly, he took your hand and let you lead him out onto the dance floor. He pulled you close to him, one hand in yours and the other wrapped around his waist. You placed your free one on his shoulder, his suit jacket soft and warm beneath your palm. You felt your face heat under his gaze, now focused down on you and you tried not to let it faze you, focusing on a slight crease in his lapel as if that would let you escape it. 

The two of you twirled across the floor, falling into easy step together, each surprised at the other’s dancing abilities. 

You licked your lips nervously. Something about being here like this with him was making you think about things you had pushed aside (namely the crush on him that you had developed and decided early on in your friendship wasn’t worth the risk of losing him in your life, fearing that you could never compare to his detective) and you wanted it to stop. But at the same time, for a moment everything was perfect, and you didn’t want to ruin it. 

“So…” you said eventually as the two of you slowed and the song changed. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

His hand shifted slightly, tugging you a little closer to him, your face practically pressed to his chest, as the next song began. As you danced and he avoided answering your question, you decided to find the answer on your own. You knew him well enough. 

There was a slight tremor in his hand which gripped yours a little tighter than necessary. His jaw is set tightly, twitching just enough for you to suspect he’s grinding his teeth together. His breath is a little short. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was...afraid?

“Seriously, Diego, are you alright?” you murmured, trying to catch his eye. 

He startled at the sound of your voice. “What?”

“You’re acting really strangely and you seem...upset. You haven’t spoken to your sister at all even though it’s her wedding.”

“I’m not upset. And I’ll talk to Allison later, she’s busy with all her other guests,” he argued, eyebrows knitting in a frown. 

“You’re not upset? Okay, then explain to me why you’re holding my hand so tightly you’ll be getting a bill from my physical therapist on Monday.”

He dropped your hand like it had burned him and stuttered out an apology. 

“Relax, it was a joke.” You frowned. “Let’s go out to the balcony. I feel like we both could use some air.” 

Without waiting for an answer you grabbed his arm and dragged him in the direction of the double doors and the candle-lit, if slightly chilly, night. As soon as you passed out of the crowded room, you could feel the tension pour off of Diego and you breathed a sigh of relief. The pair of you moved to lean on the rail, shoulders just barely brushing. 

“I...don’t belong here,” he sighed. “I’m just going to screw something up.”

“What are you talking about Diego?”

He shook his head. “Allison has this grand life. Big movie star L.A. life, and if I talk to her I’ll...what would we even talk about? We haven’t seen each other in years. I haven’t seen any of them in years.”

“That’s not true, you saw Klaus six months ago,” you joked, not sure how else to comfort him. 

You knew what he was trying to say. He felt like Allison had moved on, and built a new life where her siblings were unwelcome, the invitation to her wedding a mere formality that for some reason all of them, save, thankfully, their father, had accepted. And on some level, you thought, he was probably right. 

“Is that why you were nervous to ask me to be your date? Not that I’m a date-date, but I can imagine why having a real date would make things weirder and that’s really not the point, anyway...Because you don’t think you should have come at all?” you asked.

He shrugged. 

“No,” you said, turning to face him and taking one of his hands in both of yours. “Please talk to me Diego. Maybe I can help?”

“How could you possibly help, Y/N?” he snapped, running his free hand through his short-cropped hair. 

“I don’t know! You’ve got me playing damn guessing games when I came to this wedding where all I know is you and the junkie in the corner talking to the air,” you gestured back through the doors at Klaus who was doing exactly that, “for you. Because I care about you, and I thought maybe you needed, maybe you wanted me here. So you tell me Diego. Or maybe I should just leave.”

“No!” his eyes widened at the threat. “Please don’t leave.”

You pressed your lips together, feeling tears well up in your eyes and praying that no one thought to glance outside to where the two of you were arguing. If there was a way to ruin a wedding it was the bride’s brother and his date having a screaming match. You had said your piece, so now you watched him expectantly, waiting for him. 

He sighed deeply and turned away from you, eyes seeming to focus on a point off in the gardens below somewhere. 

“I knew this whole thing was going to be uncomfortable,” he explained very slowly, and you instinctively reached over again to cover one of his hands with yours where it gripped the bannister tightly. 

“But I thought it would be worse not to come at all.”

You nodded in understanding, leaning closer to hear him better over the wind and the din from inside. 

“And everything’s easier when...with you So I thought...”

Your heart skipped a beat. In all the years of your friendship, he had never said anything like that before. You knew that you counted him among your best friends, and that he didn’t have very many friends in general, making you one of a rare and exclusive caliber, but to hear him come this close to admitting it was strange and new and oddly thrilling.

“But,” he glanced back at you before returning to his vigil, “you looked so beautiful tonight that,” he shook his head, “instead it reminded me of how incredible you are, and how it’s just one more thing for me to ruin.”

“Diego,” you frowned. “I don’t understand. What’s one more thing for you to ruin? My outfit? I would be pretty pissed if I was dressed like this and you pulled your usual superhero nonsense and bled all over me or something but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem here.”

“Don’t joke, Y/N. Not when I’m trying to be serious.”

“I’m not joking Diego. Okay maybe I am a bit, but only because I’m not following you. What don’t you want to ruin?”

“You!” he cried, throwing himself back around to face you. “I don’t want to ruin you!”

You resisted the urge to call attention to the innuendo there, especially since doing so would probably include admitting that you would not mind it a wink. Instead you bit your lip, thinking fast and trying to piece together what he was saying to you, about you.

“How could you possibly ruin me Diego?” you blurted out. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I’ve already started you know,” he mused softly. “You don’t even flinch anymore when I show up injured and need you to stitch a wound or dig out shrapnel or glass. You have such a good heart and care so much, I don’t want you to end up...like me.” 

“There is nothing in the world that could get me to dress in leather and fight bad guys and get punched a lot. And the rest of you, I don’t see how it would be a bad thing to be like.”

He scoffed. 

“I’m serious Diego. After all, you have the biggest, sweetest heart and soul in the city. Or you wouldn’t be out there every night saving people. It’s what I love most about you.”

Your hand came up to cup his jaw instinctively, marveling at the feel of his stubble against your palm and how perfectly fit it seemed to be to rest there. He looked beautiful in the dim lights, like an artist’s painting of a hero or a god. You breath caught in your throat as he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Y/N, I…” he reached blindly out for you, catching your other wrist in his hand, sliding down hesitantly to lace his fingers through yours. 

“Diego, unless I’ve read the room completely wrong, there’s nothing more that needs to be said,” you chuckled. “So just shut up and kiss me, already?”

[erizee]

7, 8, 20, 22?? :o

7. if you could remake a horror movie of your choice, which one? and how would it look like?

one option that ive thought about before is definitely saw 3d, i love that movie but theres so much lost potential too. heres a way too long list :)

- i want more scenes where the cops are shocked/feel betrayed hoffman is the apprentice, they worked together for literal decades and yet we see no one’s reaction except gibson, who weve never met before, and hes not even that surprised. theres so many more characters they could bring back (besides the fucking unnamed coroner guy lmao), like the one bald guy they kept bringing back since iv. all of his scenes have been with hoffman, let him be SHOCKED (or not shocked!! that can work really well too!!!) i need More Betrayal lmao thats literally one of my favourite tropes. it could also be used to talk about police corruption/brutality too eye emoji

- i want consequences for amanda’s scene at the end of vi (”dont trust the one that saves you” @ corbett denlon) because they really teased that that scene would be important and then it never was :( and i also just want amanda to be involved in hoffman’s downfall because he’s the one that got her killed. its nice he got consequences for killing jill & all but i simply care more about amanda

- i want wayyy more involvement of lawrence gordon into the case or just more scenes with him in general. i dont think we ever got a canon explanation for why he joined jigsaw and ive seen some fanfics that do that reallyyyyy well but these movies are so good at making everyone feel human and everything connected so i think they should have done more with him too. im really happy his reveal was teased since the second movie but i need More. i still want him to be revealed only at the very very end but they could have teased it more

- i want more scenes with the support group slash jigsaw cult. literally imagine if the movie addressed how most survivors became apprentices by showing more of the other victims (do malick and brit feel grateful they were brought together?) and more of the general public’s reaction to jigsaw that wouldve been amazing). the reason why i like the scott tibbs documentary so much is that it shows how regular people think about it so pls movies do that more im begging you.

- also who the FUCK are the other two ppl in pig masks?? i need a canon, non-script-only answer to this

- it also kind of sets up more sequels/didnt finish the series tbh so they either should have made more sequels then or really set that movie up as The Last One much better than they did

- id also change how the women in that movie are all helpless/dont get a chance to save themselves lol thats less of a plot/character thing because it actually bothers me

8. answer for real life vs if you were a slasher movie character: the local movie theater is showing your favorite horror movie but you've heard that something really fucked up happened at the theater in the town over; somebody got stabbed mid screening, apparently- but people are arguing about whether that was actually real or just some sort of publicity stunt... - are you still going to watch your favorite movie?

in a slasher movie yea im definitely going but to be fair if i was in a slasher movie id hope im a villain so i was probably the one who did the stabbing lmao (even though my more realistic role is the loser psychiatrist in halloween 2018 lol but hey still a villain)

in real life it depends? id probably weigh my options for literal hours and then decide to go but be super paranoid and suspicious about everything

20. would you rather summon candyman or open the box leading the cenobites to you? 

oof thats hard theyre both hot lmao (/hj) but it would probably be candyman because id rather die quickly than be tortured for eternity plus maybe ill have a gothic romance with him <3 hed be my excuse to evilly go off the fucking rails in a way the cenobites cant be because they just take you to hell instead of framing you for murder as a way to get you to actually kill people

22. there's a rip in the fabric of the universe and you find yourself warped into a horror movie. which one is it? pick a movie you actually find interesting enough to want to be a part of, maybe one you've already imagined yourself as a character in- not one you just think would be easiest to stay alive in. the rules to your current situation are unclear; you don't know whether this is one of those "if you die in here, you die in real life" scenarios or not- so let's just aim for some fun.

hmm i think ill choose behind the mask the rise of leslie vernon solely because if i get to be in a horror movie and have fun there, i want to be a slasher villain! and even though the amount of exercise and planning he does sounds exhausting lmao hes the only slasher villain i can think of thats genuinely joinable. like he just has other slasher friends he hangs out with let me be one of them. rip to the documentary girl but id simply join him instead of becoming his final girl

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Jilted Tourist - 1

A/N: Hi friends! Just sneaking in here at an ungodly hour to drop off this first part of the first one of the title game winners! This one kicks off a three part prequel to everything that has happened for Benjamin and the It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like... and Too Good To Be True Reader, and it takes a look at what is essentially the beginning of the end for Benj and Julia. Benjamin’s just gotten some bad news and decides to get a drink to take the edge off. But his plans change when he bumps into someone who’s had an equally bad day, and one drink turns into a few more. 

Word Count: 4,187 

Warnings: drinking, swearing, pub stuff. 

Benjamin silenced his phone and sighed as its weight slid down into the bottom of his coat pocket. I know I shouldn’t be surprised… He used that hand to remove the glasses from the top of his head. Pinching one arm between his thumb and forefinger, he swung them down to comb the rest of his fingers through his hair. I guess… With a shove, he returned his glasses to his face, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as it wrinkled with a sniff. I guess I’m not. 

Heading towards the staircase, he tossed the small bouquet he was holding into a trash bin. Stupid. Though the weekend had been planned as a celebration of Benjamin finishing his first year of graduate school, he’d wanted to give her something as a way to thank her for her support, to show her that he cared, that he he was always thinking of her, even when his nose was in a book or he spent an entire evening writing a paper. As a way to show you that you were wrong. Recently, Julia had told him that he only ever gave her flowers when he was apologizing for something. But I’m sure this will turn into something I’ll have to apologize for. Maybe this time I’ll skip the flowers. 

He winced as he reached for the handrail and started climbing the stairs, immediately feeling guilty for being spiteful. That’s not helpful. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure that flowers, no matter what the occasion, were helpful either. Though the last few weeks had been good ones, he and Julia spending a decent amount of time together on days when he didn’t have classes or study sessions, it gnawed at Benjamin that he had to mark time between arguments in such short increments. Maybe she feels like I only bring her flowers when she’s upset with me but… He reached the top of the staircase and suddenly the idea of going back to an empty hotel room felt like the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe it’s because she’s always upset with me.

A loud, raucous cheer went up then as he followed the foot traffic at the top of the stairs, passing a crowded sports bar packed with patrons wearing kits and scarves supporting Brentford. The team had been making a run at the Premier League, and suddenly everyone had been swept up in their underdog story, following along and becoming inadvertent fans. Not where I want to be right now. He continued on, passing small shops and cafes until he found another pub, this one much quieter and less crowded. There, that looks more my speed, just want to get a pint and-  

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a couple reuniting on the platform below, arms flying around one another. They look happy. He felt a half-hearted smile lift one cheek, but it fell as he found himself thinking that the likelihood of Julia greeting him with that much enthusiasm when she arrived in London tomorrow was slim. If she arrives tomorrow. He shook his head and turned away from the platform and back to the smaller, less populated bar. I need to get that pint. 

Stepping out of the bright light of Waterloo’s main terminal and through the arched doorway of the small, dimly lit pub, he blinked a few times to adjust to the lighting. It’s just one night that she’ll miss, we have the room all weekend. I shouldn’t let it… With another hefty sigh,  he unbuttoned his coat. He didn’t want to be upset that his wife had stood him up on the first night of their getaway. He wanted to believe that there was still some way to salvage the trip. She knows how important working towards this degree is to me, maybe tomorrow she’ll… But he was tired of breathing life into his hopes only to have them slashed and soured. We’ll see about tomorrow tomorrow. Glancing at the few people gathered around the bar rail, he chose to avoid the cluster of chatty looking middle aged men, instead finding a spot near a young woman sitting alone with her phone in one hand, the other wrapped around a nearly empty pint glass. She seemed the lesser of the two evils, and since Julia wasn’t there to create her own version of why he chose to sit where he did, he pulled out a stool that was two down from where she sat. 

The bartender shuffled over and raised an eyebrow, reaching for a mug from the shelf below the bar counter. “The Tyne Bank, please.” Benjamin indicated the tap handle of the beer he ordered as he sank into his chair. “Thanks mate,” he sighed as the drink appeared in front of him, pulling out his wallet to hand over his card. “Open a tab, would you?” Wordlessly, the balding, apathetic man took it and nodded, already turning away in the direction of the post he’d been leaning on prior to pouring Benjamin’s drink. Don’t know how long I’ll stay but… He pushed two fingers up under the left lens of his glasses, pressing them into his closed eyelid before rubbing them down and out from underneath. Damn it, Julia, this was-   

“Opening a tab at a commuter bar, huh?” He looked immediately in the direction of the woman two stools down, her slightly slurred accent hitting his ear. American. Her eyes were glued to the rim of her glass, watching her own pointer finger trace around the edge to create a high-pitched squeaking sound. “You must be having a day.” You could say that. She looked up, pulling her fingers from the glass so that she could wrap them around it to drain the contents. She was younger than he first thought, no more than 24 or 25 if he had to guess. She’s Leo’s age. 

He noticed that her eyes looked red and puffy when she swung them over to him, and not just from the alcohol. She’s been crying. He picked up his glass and nodded. “Suppose I have been.” Bringing his glass the rest of the way to his lips, he took a sip and let the coppery colored ale coat his tongue before swallowing it down. 

“Well then, you sir, have chosen the right seat because this end of the bar-” she flipped her hair over her shoulder in a dramatic fashion, like a matador might flourish their cape, and used the same finger she’d been tracing around her glass to point down at the wooden bartop. “Is for tying one on.” Lifting her hand from where she’d just pointed, she waved the bartender down to order another drink, the man huffing audibly at the fact that he had to move again. 

Benjamin set his glass down and cocked his head to the side as the bartender grumbled under his breath, something along the lines of ‘she couldn’tve ordered when this bloke did, of course she couldn’t.’ The young woman either didn’t hear him, or didn’t care, and Benjamin had a sneaking suspicion that it was the latter. Once he’d slid the woman her beverage, the bartender looked pointedly at Benjamin, even though he’d only taken one sip that hardly even cracked the foam. “I’m fine,” he assured the man, who was only getting less hospitable by the moment, before turning to face her. “Not trying to get too tanked up here, just,” he sighed as she picked up her glass, pausing before bringing it to her lips. Just what? What are you doing, Benjamin? And why are you talking to a stranger about it? He shook his head. “Just wanted to take the edge off.” 

“Well, that makes one of us.” She held her glass out and it took Benjamin a few seconds to realize that she was waiting for him to clink his against it. He blinked a few times before picking up his pint glass and tapping it to hers. “To me getting tanked up, and to you...well, not.” She blew out a breath in a sarcastic laugh, shaking her head.  

That was a terrible toast. His mind flashed back to the one he’d delivered at his and Julia’s wedding- how hard he’d worked on it, how he’d practiced in the mirror for days before rehearsing it the morning off, how he felt invincibly bolstered by the love that he had for the woman he was pouring his heart out to. Good toasts don’t guarantee anything though. 

“Cheers,” he responded as she took a large swig, her left hand combing her hair back out of her face as she drank. A falsely hearty sounding round of laughter rose from the opposite end of the long, straight rail, and even though it didn’t seem as though he would be granted the quiet drink he wanted, he was glad he had stayed away from whatever that was. “So,” he set his glass back down as he cleared his throat. “You had a-” 

Her phone started vibrating on the bartop next to her glass, and Benjamin couldn’t help but notice the contact photo when the screen lit up. “Shit.” She picked it up and fumbled with the buttons on the side, her fingers not completely in compliance with the task at hand. “Fuck you, Eddie,” she mumbled as it buzzed again in her palm before she slid the bar across the bottom of the screen to shut it down. 

Benjamin returned his eyes to his drink, trying to pretend that he hadn’t just seen a photo of the woman next to him laying a fat kiss to a smiling young man’s cheek and the name Edmund accompanied by a string of heart shaped emojis flash on her phone before she struggled to turn it off. I’ve got enough on my own plate to figure out, I should just finish this drink and head back to the ho-

“Damn it, sorry that was…” She reached behind her for the purse that was hanging on the back of her stool, grabbing the strap to pull it into her lap before jamming her phone into it. “Just my-” 

Benjamin leaned over the empty seat next to him. “It’s fine, you don’t have to-” 

She let go of her purse and slid from her stool onto the one next to it, leaving only one between them now. Oh, no, that’s… Benjamin straightened back up and seized his glass, but she didn’t come any closer, only reaching for her own glass to scoot it over in front of her new position. “No, I meant to turn the damn thing off anyway because I do not want to hear from him tonight...or…” she groaned into her pint. “Ever.” The last word echoed against the glass before she cut herself off by filling her mouth with liquid. 

So I guess I’m not the only one having trouble in paradise tonight. He frowned, looking down at his left hand and the wedding band he’d been so eager to earn. I love her, I know I do, but she… He closed his eyes and took a drink, swallowing slowly. Does she? Benjamin curled his hand into a fist, until his knuckles blocked his ring from view. Stop. Don’t...not here. He flattened his palm back, eyes still on the gold band around his third finger. Not now. 

“Oh, hey, you don’t have to worry about-” Huh? The woman laughed under her breath as she angled herself away from him. He looked up to see her motioning towards his flattened hand. “I saw you looking at your ring. You’re married.” She used one hand like a blade to cut a straight horizontal line through the air. “I get it, and anyway I’m not…” Her head shook from side to side, face tilting downwards as she picked up her glass again. She wasn’t kidding about...what did she say? Tying one on? “I’m not trying to flirt with you or anything I just-” Another little snort of laughter interrupted her sentence and she used the pause to take a drink. “Literally, just, broke up with one of you English assholes and I’m-” Benjamin raised one eyebrow, adjusting his glasses with a shove to the rim. “Shit, I don’t mean you’re an...ugh.” 

The laugh was out of his mouth before he had time to question where it came from. It was small, not enough to lift him out of what he was feeling, but it wasn’t forced. “You never know, I might be one.” She picked her head up and gave him a gracious smile. “And anyway, on behalf of all of us,” he gestured around the bar with his glass. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with your boyfriend.” 

Sighing, she let her shoulders drop as she sunk back into her stool. “Yeah, thanks.” Tilting her glass around, she swirled the half-empty contents, watching the foam cling to the sides and then run down them. “I’m sorry you’re having a shit day too.” 

“Yeah,” Benjamin looked down his nose into his glass. It didn’t start out terribly, it was actually… He blinked and downed the rest of his glass. “Thanks.” I should go. 

“I’m Jocelyn, by the way. Joss, really.” She spread her fingers to push her hair back before twisting to retrieve her purse again. Digging through, she pulled out a business card and handed it over. “Figure I should introduce myself, if we’re going to sit here drinking our woes away together.” 

Looking down at the square shaped card he read the purple print. Jocelyn Hall, Copyeditor, R.J. Tully & Associates. Huh, what are the odds? He set her card down and reached for his wallet, pulling out one of his own. “I started out as an editor, too. I’m only part-time because I’m back in school, but they have me writing copy now. Big move.” He rolled his eyes and handed over his own card. “I’m Benjamin.” Jocelyn read his card over before flicking it against her thumb. “It’s nice to meet you, Joss, though I wish it were under better circumstances for… well for either of us.” 

She laughed, turning to stuff his card in her purse before letting it swing back around the stool again. “It’s nice to meet you too, Benjamin.” When she turned back to him again, her eyes, though still puffy, looked less sad. Good. “But you know who’s having a worse night than either of us?” Well, we both had to turn off our phones because we’re avoiding people, so… She jerked her head in the direction of the bartender. “This guy really hates his job.” 

With that she stood on the rung below her stool and waved the bartender over. His humph and trudge illustrated what she’d just said, and Benjamin felt a small smile form. Joss swallowed what was left of her drink before the man had finished his long and arduous journey down to their end of the bar, then pointed at Benjamin’s empty glass. “Can I buy you another beer and tell you about my shitty day, Benjamin? Or you can tell me about yours, or,” she blew out a breath. “Or fuck, we can talk about copywriting if you really want, it’s just that I’m not…” She was speaking more quickly, her words tumbling out as the bartender finally reached them. “Not ready to go back to an empty hotel room just yet and-” 

“You want somethin’ girlie?” The man’s gruff voice cut her off as he leaned over the bar, his knobby knuckles gripping the curved edge. 

Benjamin’s palms were sweating and a warning jolt went through his stomach. What would Julia have to say about me accepting this drink? It was a rhetorical question to himself, and even though Jocelyn had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him- and I’m not… I love my wife, I’m not interested in this woman- he knew that if Julia were there she’d be plenty busy making up her own version of things. But she’s not here. She chose not to be. He noticed Jocelyn’s face falling as she nodded, reaching again for her purse, and he narrowed his eyes. Piss it. “Yeah, set us up again would you, mate? On my tab.”  

Jocelyn smiled, letting go of her purse strap again, letting the small bag swing. “That was supposed to be on me.” I know. She leaned her elbow on the bar, setting her chin in her hand. “Thank you,” she said it as the bartender set her drink in front of her, though her eyes were on Benjamin. “For sticking around I mean, I just…” The gruff, wrinkled man passed Benjamin his ale before responding to the waves and calls of the men at the other end of the bar, grumbling as he headed in their direction. “I…” She pressed her lips together, running her fingers up and down the outside of her glass. 

“Hey,” Benjamin lifted his glass. I get it. “My most thrilling copywriting story is about the time I had to write nine thousand words on mattresses in twenty four hours,” Jocelyn blew air through her nostrils in a laugh as Benjamin took a drink. “But if you want I can try to remember which ones were rated best.” But that’s not what she wants to talk about, is it? “Unless you just want to...talk about your day.” 

She hummed, picking up her glass to take a sip. “I don’t want to,” she sighed and settled against the backrest of her stool, drawing one foot up to the seat so her shin was pressed to the edge of the bar rail. “But, I have been sitting here drinking for hours, and I have yet to say the words out loud.” Looking down into her drink, she took a breath before bringing her glass to her lips for another long swallow. “So,” she placed her glass back on the bartop and spread her arms wide, fingertips nearly brushing Benjamin’s shoulder. “Here goes. Today, I, Jocelyn Hall, boarded a plane in Washington D.C. and crossed the fucking Atlantic Ocean to visit my boyfriend in London, only to find him fucking some other woman.” Benjamin winced, sucking air through his teeth. That’s awful. Jocelyn took another big swig, clearing nearly half of her glass before Benjamin had had his second sip. “And you, Benjamin,” she pointed at him, finger swaying, “are the first person I’ve told. 

Damn. He recalled the way it had felt when Allie had delivered the double blow to his heart that not only did she not want to marry him, but that she’d fallen in love with someone else. That betrayal was unlike anything he’d ever felt prior, and he handled it about as well as Jocelyn was handling things. “That’s terrible, what a prick.” 

“You know, I never thought he was a prick.” Of course you didn’t, that’s why you were with him. “I thought he was,” she rolled her eyes and groaned at herself, one hand going to her head. “I thought Eddie was perfect.” She scoffed. “Stupid.” 

Benjamin shook his head. “It isn’t stupid to want to see the good in people.” He raised his eyebrows and brought his glass to his mouth. “Especially the person you’re with.” He let another mouthful of ale slide down his throat. Julia has so much good in her. I saw it right away, but now its… He sighed.

“All my friends told me this would happen,” she reasoned, wrapping both hands around the base of her glass, condensation dripping over her knuckles. “They all warned me, when Eddie and I met, and,” she tilted her head, eyes widening. “They were right.”    

   “They couldn’t have known- you, you couldn’t have known when you met him that things would turn out this way though.” He tried to console her with the fact that there was no real way to prepare for the unknown; that Jocelyn or her friends couldn’t have possibly foreseen that Eddie would cheat on her. That I couldn’t see that Julia would push me aside. He shook his head and rubbed on hand over the top of his hair. Change the subject. “How did, um… how did you two mee then?” Shit, she might not want to- “I mean, only if you want to tell me, it’s-”

“We met while we were both spending a semester abroad in Florence.” Another eye roll. “We both accidentally signed up for a class that we thought was Italian, but it was actually Italian Literature, taught entirely in a language that neither of us spoke and,” she gestured with one hand while the other held her glass. “Well, we were able to transfer out of it, but we hit it off and started spending time together. A lot of time, all our time. Looking back on it now I...well,” she tapped the nail of her pointer finger on her glass. “It happened too fast, got... “ she made a sudden swiping motion. “Swept up in it I guess.” 

Yeah, that tends to happen. He knew how easy it was to let the current carry you away once those first few feelings started swirling, especially when the circumstances were right. “Still, that doesn’t mean that you should have been able to predict that…”

“Our entire relationship was like a vacation, Benjamin, that should have been a clue. I mean,” she sniffed. “Weekend getaways in Vienna and Barcelona. Going here, seeing this, doing that.” She ticked her words off on her fingers. “Before the semester was even up we were already making plans to visit one another at home. He came over to the U.S. and stayed with me for ten days and it was great. It was a great ten days, but again, it wasn’t real life.”  

Like Julia and I. The thought made his mouth go dry but the beer he tried to drink only caused him to choke, coughing and covering his mouth with his hand. In the beginning of their relationship they’d holed themselves up in hotel rooms, ordering room service and visiting tourist sights. It was so easy. 

“But the crown jewel in this story,” Jocelyn smacked her palm down on the bartop causing Benjamin to snap his attention back to her. “Was me deciding to surprise Eddie by getting here three days earlier than we’d planned, and him deciding to surprise me by banging some redhead.” He frowned. Why do people cheat? I’ll never understand it. She sniffed again. “So, surprise. My friends were right, and I’m an idiot.” Her eyes were starting to shine again, and she snorted into her glass. “A drunk idiot.” 

“You’re not.” She looked at him incredulously. “An idiot, I mean.” You’re definitely drunk. He put his glass down and leaned his forearms on the bar. “You dove in, really gave it a go. Now this Eddie? He sounds like an idiot if you ask me.” He licked his lips and scrubbed one hand over his beard. “It’s not stupid to trust people or to...to fall for someone.” Am I trying to make her feel better or myself? He sighed. “It’s shitty. It’s a shitty thing that he did to you and I’m…” I’m an expert at shitty things happening so I know what I’m talking about. “I’m sorry that it happened to you.” 

Joss smiled sadly, but nodded and wiped her knuckle under her eye. “Thanks, Benjamin, that’s…” She let out a breath. “I appreciate you listening to me and trying to...just, thank you. It felt good to get that all off my chest I guess.” I’m sure. Since he married Julia he had been spending less and less time with friends like Bianca and Zach, and the few classmates he’d spoke with over the last year were no substitute, so he’d had no one to really talk to about the perceived problems in his marriage. He was glad that he was able to be a set of ears for Jocelyn to vent to. 

“You know, I am about as far away from sage council as you could probably get, but if it’ll make you feel better to talk about your shitty day, we can put the next round on my tab.” A few more patrons had shuffled in since he’d sat down that Benjamin hadn’t noticed until he’d looked up at Joss’ alcohol and emotion flushed face. I shouldn’t… But why shouldn’t I? He asked himself the question almost immediately, knowing fully that his only intention in talking to Jocelyn was conversation and possibly some mutual empathy, nothing more. 

He finished the rest of his drink and stood from his stool. “Alright,” he agreed. “But I’m going to step out for a smoke.” Joss made a scrunched face and he chuckled. “I know, bad habit, I’m trying to quit. But… yeah. Grab another round. I’ll be right back.” 

“Great,” she stood to flag down the bartender. “Misery loves company.”

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @malionnes​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @gollyderek​ @thesumofmychoices​ @becs-bunker​ @warriorqueenofnarnia @elanor-of-imladris​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @obscurilicious​ @octosapiens​ @luminex3​ @songtoyou​ @with1love1anu​ @dearmarii​ @pheedraws​ @valkblue​ @alraedesigns​ @fific7​

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added or removed from my taglist for this or any story/character please feel free to let me know! 

[unfortunatelysirius]

Goodbye, My Love // Jon Snow

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」 When it comes to saying goodbye, you’ve always had trouble. But it becomes especially hard when saying it to Jon Snow. 「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」 I am SO bad at updating… all I’ve got as an explanation. *shrug emoji* If you guys want a reunion companion piece [season 6] then hey, just ask. Otherwise, here’s this chunk of trash for you all ;) [It’s honestly rushed, I apologize in advance] 「 ❁ 」WARNINGS 「 ❁ 」 Swearing, Angst 「 ❁ 」WORD COUNT 「 ❁ 」

3027

         YOU MET JON SNOW ON YOUR FIFTH NAMEDAY.        You had always lived in Winterfell with your mother and father, who were (respectively) the seamstress and blacksmith. You were lowborn, but respectable, with parents whose gifts were renowned throughout Winter Town. You were never put in the finest dresses or presented in front of hand-picked husband prospects, that much was true; however, you never wanted nor needed to be highborn to feel like your life had meaning.        Your first meeting with Jon Snow had you smitten, even at such a young age.        You’d been running around Winter Town, a crown of flowers in your hair, when you’d stumbled into something warm and fleshy—a human body. You squealed and fell, the stranger following suit with a kidlike grunt. Only when you’d managed to spit out one of the petals that had fallen into your mouth did you look up, eyes snapping into some sort of trance. There was a blue-eyed gaze locked on your own.              “Hi!” you’d immediately said, not bashful at all. You grinned at the strange boy, near the same age as you. “I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”        The boy’s face was flushed red, a look of embarrassment on his face. He stood quickly. And he stayed silent, continuing to stare, like someone might would a predator.        “Hellllllo?” You tilted your head. “You’re not very nice.”        The curly-haired boy shook his own head, defiantly silent. His eyes flickered away from yours and back towards the way he came—the way you were heading towards. When you went sideways to see from around his body, you saw what he was looking at. Eddard and Catelyn Stark, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, as they stood on the railing of their tower.        You were incredulous, to say the least, that this was what caught the strange boy’s attention. Was it why he was silent, too? “Why are you looking at them?” you demanded. “D’you wanna be a lord, too?”        The boy snapped his head around to stare at you. “What?” he demanded, in a voice much too brusque to be a child’s.        You giggled childishly. “Lord Curly,” you teased. “’Cause you’ve got curly hair, and I don’t know your name!”        Though he remained alert and angry-looking, the boy finally caved. His mouth twitched into a grimace. “Jon,” he said simply.        “Lord Jon,” you said. You smiled toothily up at him. “Bye, Lord Jon.”        You pranced around him, sprinting in the direction you were going originally. And as you went, a stray petal untucked from your crown, and it was rushed backwards by the wind. It went and went, all until it fell at Jon’s feet.        He picked it up. And he stared at it.        What he wouldn’t admit to anyone, much less himself, was that he thought you were really, really pretty. As pretty as someone five name-days old could be. And he hoped he’d see you again.        He really hoped he’d see you again.

       -

       It was three years and three moons later when you saw the mysterious Jon again. You were eight, hair reaching your waist and eyes ever so wide. You’d become curious and adventure-seeking, still carrying around that same naivety like a sleeve’s patchwork. You were hanging around the kitchens, stealing sweets your mother refused to let you have, just leaving when you caught a glimpse of a curly-haired boy. He was walking briskly. Was he angry? You dropped the biscuits you were carrying and went to pursue him.

       “Lord Curly!” you cried, struggling to keep up. The boy was older and taller, his pace like that of a man running from a bear—only he was jogging. Maybe he knew you were following, even before you’d called out his nickname. “Lord Curly, please—stop running!”

       He stopped abruptly. A bit too late, perhaps, as you rammed your nose directly into his back.

       “Ouch,” you cooed, rubbing the offended spot, blinking. The boy had turned around in the time it took for the pain to disappear, and catching his bleary gaze locked you in place. In a very bad way, given his expression. “Are you alright?”

       “I was,” he said coolly. Was that a hint at you being an annoyance? You never could tell with anyone, much less the brooding subject of your childish fantasies. “What do you want?”

       “My, my, Lord Curly! I just wanted to speak to you.” You smiled.

       “I’m busy.”

       Your smile became a frown. “Oh? Doing what?”

       Jon didn’t look very pleased that you were still there. He was an inch away from fleeing. He returned your frown and muttered, “I’ll get in trouble if we keep talking.”

       You jutted out your lip and made a noise. A very inhuman noise. “Lord Curly, why do ya say that?”

       He looked over your head at something in the distance. You knew it was the Lord and Lady of the castle, as that’s all that lay beyond Winter Town.

       “You’re not Robb,” you stated. “So who are you?”

       “No one,” said Jon in response. Quick—too quick. He didn’t want you to know.

       You kept quiet in reply.

Jon pulled his cloak tighter around his neck and face, body twisting around. His back was to you, his curly head of charred hair the framework of his identity.

He was like a shadow and a puzzle, conjoined together to make one very difficult game. You were eager to be his friend, keen to know him better—but he kept disappearing. It’d been over three years since you seen him last. And now he was the one running away.

“Bye, Lord Curly!” you called out to him as his footsteps echoed into silence and his head of curls were no longer seen.

-

Jon had hoped to see you again.

But Catelyn kept watching.

And she didn’t want him to have any friends.

-

So many years passed. You got taller and curvier, growing into yourself, until eventually you stopped changing at fifteen. Your fifteenth name-day was a tremendous affair, with the Lord and Lady themselves in attendance. Jon wasn’t there, to your disappointment. You hadn’t seen him since you were eight. It’d been so long, too long, enough to make you forget he ever existed. But he plagued your memories, he haunted your dreams. His name was always on the tip of your tongue. The cusp of a breath.

You’d danced with several boys, wearing a flower crown on your head. Every boy was worse than the last. You always pretended they were Jon, even though you held no picture—hardly even an inkling—of his current appearance. How did he look now, with the two of you older and less naïve? You were sure he’d chiseled out. He probably looked more a man than your own father did, the child that he was.

You wanted to stop being eaten alive by questions. You wanted him to appear on a white mare and take you captive in his orbit. You wanted to fall in love the old-fashioned way, the against-all-odds way, with someone your parents would not approve of. You could not care less. You didn’t give a shite what they thought. All that mattered was finding someone who could give you a happy ending.

That was over a moon ago. You were beginning to feel like you’d never see him again.

You walked out into the snow atop your balcony on a crisp evening, wearing another crown of flowers. You were dressed in an evening gown—feet barren and your hair crowning your face. You’d spent the day dreaming about Jon, and crossed Winter Town over six times, desperate to see the boy again—even if he held no recognition for you. What were the odds that he’d appear? To you, chance was nothing; this was all fate. Whether you’d find him again, you knew not. You knew next to nothing on fate’s plans.

You felt the world was in your hands and odds were in your favor, however. There was a feeling in your gut, a feathery weight, that kept you lifting, refusing to let you land. You were not grounded. You were airborne.

What did this mean?

It meant having hope in naïve fantasies.

Your hair blew around your face, masking your vantage of the navy sky. The moon was a hair away, right above your head, crowning you Luna. It was glowing translucently. It was calling for you to give up your games. But you—really, honestly, truly—refused to leave this for children until you found Jon again. Until you saw his face. Until you knew his coldness for what it was.

Curiosity is a killer. As is love.

You knew it so, but that did not make you any less reckless.

A rustling sounded from below. Could this—be it? You thought maybe. You brushed your windswept hair from your eyes, glancing downward.

From the dark shadows emerged a shape. A lean, muscular shape, clad in black—or maybe that was the darkness. He was threaded with it, wasn’t he? When a glint of moonlight bounced off the shadow’s raven curls, you knew it so.

It was Jon.

“Jon?” you whispered aloud, just to be sure. This fantasy come to life needed cemented.

The shadow moved closer, bringing with him sudden light. It was like a scene from a fairytale, with the ruggedly handsome knight coming to rescue his damsel. Though, this one was much darker and much less renowned than what you’d normally expect; the princes in your books were blond, blue-eyed, and sunlit.

A new perspective, you declared it. Jon was perfect in your eyes.

The boy in question coughed. “Yeah, it’s me, Y/N.” He was silent for a while thereafter, as the two of you stared at one another. Then he said, “I’m sorry for how I’ve made you feel.”

“Sick with longing for a man I know nothing about?” You smiled, though wearily, and laughed at him. “I assure you, there is not any remorse.”

Jon sighed. If not for the crisp air, you wouldn’t have noticed it. “Lady Stark has no kindness in her heart for me. I am a bastard, you see—”

“I know what you are, Jon Snow,” you said. “And quite the contrary to what you think, I don’t care.”

“Y/N, I’m a bastard—”

You snorted, as unladylike as could be. “And I’m not highborn. So why would I give a rat’s arse?”

Jon looked uncertain, glancing between you and the way from which he came. “I came to apologize, Y/N, not to start anything—”

“Lady Stark is a bitter, middle-aged woman, Jon,” you said. “And I’m quite the opposite. I assume you like that. Why else would you come back here to woo yourself into my good graces?”

There was an intensity in the air. It made you want to scale down the balcony and take Jon for your own.

Jon seemed quite puzzled, like he couldn’t tell what to think of you. At last he said, “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Then let’s not get caught.”

From this view, Jon seemed like he was considering what you said. You decided not to give him time to take back his visit and his words. You hopped up on the edge of your balcony’s wooden posts and curved your body to face the entrance to your bedroom. You gripped the posts tight, and dropped down a few feet.

Jon hissed, “What are you doing, Y/N? You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you grunted, using your limited view to catch what post to drop to next. Eventually you reached the last available post and you realized that you needed to jump down. “Jon, I have to let go.”

“Y/N, stop, no. You’ll get hurt.”

You smiled largely. “That’s why you’ve got to catch me!”

Your hands lost grip on the balcony.

You fell down, the wind gusting in your hair. You were flying, a raven born of air. You didn’t think about the consequences, not the possibility of death or severe injury, brain only centered on the beauty that being airborne was; and the idea you had a prince of darkness to catch your fall.

You roughly hit Jon’s rock-hard body, his arms coming to envelope you, the both of you falling into the snow. He grunted, and you squeaked. You had only dreamt of a proximity this close, and having him as close to you as he was now—

You flipped around to be chest-to-chest with Jon.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” you said abruptly.

Jon blinked in surprise. “Oh. Um. Okay.”

You pressed a small peck on his lips, without an actual response.

Jon stared up at you, his cheeks a rosy red. His nose, too. He looked shocked, like he hadn’t expected you to actually kiss him—but then you did, and he didn’t know how to respond. How to think, even. This beautiful art-piece of a human-being, kissing him and touching him like they couldn’t care less what his namesake was.

Jon surged forwarded and kissed you hard, much more assertively than you did him.

You squeaked again, finding this roughness, this ferocity, such a difference from your own faint touches. He was gripping your body like nothing ever had, holding you close and center, with the snow just a background accessory in the face of his body heat, and his kiss—fuck, his kiss.

It was otherworldly.

Eventually, you found this had to stop.

“Jon, Jon, stop—my parents!” You giggled against his lips.

“Fuck the town. Fuck everything, Y/N,” Jon said, leaning back to stare at you. “We’ll have our own town. Our own world. I’m Lord Curly, right? You can be Lady Flowers.” He placed a delicate hand  on one of the flowers in your crown.

This direction was so different from where you’d thought it’d go. You thought Jon would use you then discard you like a used towel, and you’d let him because you liked him that much. You had learned to take what you could get, regardless of how hurt it put you in the process. Jon wanted this as much as you, right? So you thought it’d be foolish of you to say no.

You pushed yourself into him and got lost in the midst of frigid wind and falling snow, giggles and growls muffled under the pale light of the moon.

-

The two of you, for the better part of a few years, were rather invested in keeping up your connection. You’d hide out together and kiss, talk about your hopes and dreams, curse Catelyn Stark and her bitterness; all the while, you fell more and more hopelessly in love. You were once enraptured by Jon, thinking of him as the most honorable man you’d ever met aside from Eddard Stark, his father. But now, it was love.

Eventually, it caught up to you.

Catelyn Stark discovered your forbidden romance when she’d passed by the two of you kissing once. At once, she put a stop to it. She demanded Jon not to see you anymore, forced you all to put the shenanigans in the past. She knew who your parents were, and she disapproved of their child intermingling with a bastard. So much so, she went to your door a fortnight after you had last kissed Jon—and told your mother as she answered the door that you were in relations with her husband’s bastard.

Things got steadily worse after that. Your mother and father began fighting, as your mother did not like what you’d been doing while your father couldn’t bear telling you that you were wrong to love who you loved. Your mother would sleep alone in bed, your father made to sleep outside.

Jon never appeared again. He went moons without speaking to you. You felt like things were getting progressively worse, that the love of your life had been snatched away—

And then the King visited. And you learned from Robb Stark, who knew of your relation to his half-brother, that Jon was leaving for the watch.

You had to say goodbye.

-

Like you had two left feet, you clumsily left your mother and father’s abode, hurrying to the stables where Robb claimed Jon would be. You were terrified, thinking he had already left. This was the man of your dreams; if he left without giving you a deserved farewell, you wouldn’t know if you could forgive him.

You knew you wouldn’t forgive him.

You were flying through crowds of townsfolk, your legs aching and stomach receding into itself the longer you went, the farther you got. Eventually you reached the stables.

You stopped at the very edge of the entrance, peaking through. Your gaze swept past horses as they quietly moved their heads downward and ate from their haystacks. At one point, your sweeping gaze faltered, and you realized what had happened.

Jon had left you. He left without saying goodbye.

You didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.

-

You knew this day would come. Jon would get tired of running, and he’d get tired of feeling worthless, and so he’d put an end to both. He’d run until he got to a dead end. He’d fight until he was worth more than anything in the world. He’d do all he could to be something more than Eddard Stark’s bastard.

It meant throwing away your memories.

It meant leaving without uttering a single goodbye.

It meant letting your love be just as it was.

Never meant to last.

-

Jon kept running and running and running. He would run until his legs turned to jelly. He’d pant until his eyes rolled back with exhaustion. He’d scream and fight until he got where he wanted to be—somewhere new, somewhere different, somewhere not Winterfell.

(You couldn’t come with. Why couldn’t you come with?)

The running would stop.

(He never wanted to leave you.)

He only wished it didn’t mean losing the thing he’d loved most.

-

I love you, Lord Curly.

-

I love you too, Lady Flowers.

-

FIN.