#with anyone like at worse i hope it’s just awkward not violent like last time i got a bit 😄😁😁 what? I learned my lesson

[ashmp3]

today im venturing into a night out called “could be good could be terrible doing it for the plot so my girl friends have some voice notes of drunk me retelling the story in the morning” but i’m chill. and on my period so in pain but yk. chill

[pkmnomegaverse]

After reading about Alister, Is there possible that he might have some peace or hopeful future around? (and possibly might accepted that Michael will probably never love or accepting him)

Fun fact, when I was going through my old Discord logs I forgot just how completely I destroyed Alister in my prototype plotline. It was so bleak and cruel, even I was appalled by what I had previously written. Very much me being like "wouldn't it be fucked up if..." and "I don't think he would survive this, I'm not sure anyone in this family would be able to move past this." (it was basically...a plotline...where down the line Ardos abducts him and Raith in a one last confrontation with Cipher thing. But Ardos takes the route of kinda setting up Alister as his potential heir if he wants to survive the encounter, all like "you're my son, so surely you have it in you to do all these things." And basically makes Alister hurt Raith as a test of sorts, since if he doesn't hurt him himself, he'll make sure he does something much much worse. And then it escalates the longer they're there. You can use your imagination on what that might entail).

But yes, def discarding that because while I like angst, there comes a point where even I think it's too much past just musing about what if Bad End AUs. And it was for sure way too much.

For Alister, it's still a work in progress, but I've been thinking about how I need to take him out of Orre for a while. Get him traveling in another region and how that would help him expand his viewpoint. See diverse families and come to realize no one has a perfect family. Come to peace with how there's some things in life he can't change, and that's okay. That even if there are members of your family you can't have the type of relationship you want with, it's okay to let it go.

For reference, Valen is my main Orre kid I base things around (for Orre), and for him, traveling outside Orre is very much a part of his recovery process. He makes friends with Hale and Ignis and it's through traveling with them and having zany adventures that he grows as a person. Moves past what he went through while abducted by Cipher and also becomes willing to open up more about Cay. He gains companions he can trust, and is able to let go of some of his edge and anger. Also Cay is able to calm down and be less violent once he can see Valen is less on edge all the time and that the majority of people in the world aren't actually out to hurt them. So it helps those two just have a better relationship in general as well.

So I feel once Valen is starting to do better, he would suggest to Alister how he should also get out of Orre for a while and try traveling (since the two of them are kind of friends? They at least know each other and talk on occasion, since have that Cipher trauma bond between their families).

I was musing on my Twitter recently how I think Alister and Casimir would be a fun interaction, since Casimir has such a complex about what having a genocidal bio-dad says about him, I think them conversing and bonding over their bio-dads would be fun. Even if Alister has everyone with a dad complex beat in most fucked up dad. Since by that point, whatever last stand Cipher plotline I run probably has happened and Alister now knows the rough truth about what went down. But also, talk about an awkward conversation that would take a while for either to open up about.

But yes, I do think Alister is able to find peace and grow as a person. Has a hopeful future ahead for him. He just needs more exposure with the world, which is why I have moved to wanting him to travel outside Orre. Mostly I'm just debating now if there's anyone I want him to travel with, past the main group that Valen is a part of (since I do really want him to interact with Valen more and move from being kinda sorta friends to actual friends).

I've considered if he could be part of the evil dad traveling group of Rhea, Axel, and Roan (especially since Roan is maybe on the chopping block, so could replace him) but again, he has everyone beat with most evil dad and evil dad is not what he even actually has a complex about. So might instead have him travel with someone more chill. Or could just be the eventual 4th quest party member of the Ignis/Hale/Valen trio. Ignis is always a good one for anyone with a family complex to befriend since also has a less than ideal family setup (dead mom he doesn't truly remember, no idea who his bio dad is), but doesn't have a complex about it and is perfectly happy with his two uncles for dads. Hale would be bitchy about it, especially if he perceives that Alister and Casimir are getting close at all, but would get over it and can play nice when he needs to.

[wallflowerimagines]

Hello! Um... I don’t really know how to start this but say I love your hc! I think you do a fantastic job on them, there all very sweet but being the s.o.b I am I’m here to ask for some angst. How would you think the lords act if their S/O died?

...I'm feeling mean. 😈

Warnings: Angst, Death, Horror Game villains making bad decisions/not coping with tragedy, suicide.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Denial, Denial, Denial

You can't be dead. There has to be something, anything that she can do to save you. Alcina scrambles for a solution, attacking the problem from all sides, despite the reality of the situation staring her in the face.

Immediately injects your body with Cadou in a desperate hope to save you. Any possible chance that he has to save you she's going to take it.

It's not likely that your corpse reanimates, but it does mutate. At the end of the process, what's left of your body hardly even looks like you anymore, and she can't bring herself to look at it.

She builds a gilded crypt for your body-- it's stunning. It's inspired by you, all your favorite colors, styles and hobbies are incorporate to make the room feel full of your spirit. Alcina is an artistic woman, and she throws herself into the project like she's possessed.

It might take years, even decades to complete. It has to be perfect. When it's done she feels accomplished, but twice as empty. It might be one of the most beautiful dedications she's ever made, but it can't replace you. She has the room sealed off with no way to get to it, so she can't be tempted to visit. She just needs a piece of of you still in her home, or she can't get through the day.

...If your corpse does reanimate, it's actually worse for Alcina. Whatever she brought back was a shambling, horrifying mess of mold wearing your face. It couldn't think for itself, or even follow commands--it just wanders in circles and attacks anything that gets too close.

She keeps your reanimated corpse in a cell, unable to bring herself to destroy it completely. Sometimes, she'll go down to the basement and talk to the thing like it is you, telling it about her day, having one-sided conversations and thinking of all the wonderful memories the two of you shared.

When its dead eyes meet hers, her lungs seize in her chest and tears gather in her eyes. Alcina doesn't cry often, but when your corpse meets her gaze she starts to sob. Those eyes used to look at her with life and love and now...

Still, she can't stop herself from visiting it. It's a compulsion she can't stop, and it tears open the wound every time, but some irrational part of her deep, deep down thinks that one day, she'll descend those steps and you'll be there to greet her with a warm smile.

In either scenario, she will never have another partner. You're impossible to replace, and she feels truly, genuinely empty without you. Rest well, Darling. You'll never be forgotten.

Donna Beneviento

There is such a thing as a last straw, and this is it for Donna.

Please remember: this is a woman who has lost everything. Mother Miranda might have given her a new "family", but Donna is not nearly as attached to these new members as she is to her original family. And the loss of her original family has shaped her in such a way that if you died? She would be absolutely devastated.

It's not fair to put this kind of pressure on you, but in a very real way you were her last hope for normalcy. She had all these plans to fix her family with you. You were so instrumental to her hopes for the future that now that you're gone, it feels like she has no hope at all. You were her missing link, her one true love, and now that you're dead...

Donna screams until her throat is raw when she finds out you're gone. Angie can't help her, nothing can. She just can't cope with reality anymore.

She'll build a life sized Doll of you to try to help herself cope, but the minute she tries to implant of piece of her Cadou in it, she is filled with such a vehement hatred of the thing that she starts scream-crying before she takes an axe to it's face and hacks it to pieces. How dare it pretend to be you?!! It's not even close to the real thing, she shouldn't even have tried--

She might try to induce a hallucination of you to help her get through the day to day, but it's not the same. She can't perfectly mimic your laugh, or your smile, or the way you tuck her hair away from her face. It's so obviously not you, and Donna is... alone.

I do hate to say it, but she will absolutely try to kill herself if you died. You were the one person who understood her, empathized with her, and you were her best friend. You were her support system, the one person who could carry her through the worst times in her life, but you're gone. Donna can't believe that anyone else could be there for her like you were.

Salvatore Moreau

Absolutely, irreparably broken.

When the two of you were in a relationship, you busied yourself not only with smothering Salvatore in all of the love and affection that you could, but you also did a lot to help his self-esteem and mental health.

You made sure he knew that he was loved, that you could never hate him, and even on your death bed you make him promise never to forget how wonderful he is.

Once you're gone, though, Salvatore cracks.

He clings to every bit of you felt behind. All of your jewelry, clothing, pictures and sentimental items are preserved to the best of his ability. Your living space is transformed into a shrine dedicated to you.

It's not healthy, but he also deifies you in his memory. Mother Miranda is no longer the only person that he worships-- the memory of you is now sacred to him. You become something holy and perfect in his mind's eye. It doesn't matter how many flaws you had in reality, your death has turned even your worst flaws into traits to be admired and praised. His perception of you is totally twisted.

Speaking of Mother Miranda, he regresses a lot. His adoration of Mother Miranda was something you were helping him work through, but now he's right back at square one, and even worse off than before.

Moreau can't make a decision on his own anymore--from what to say, to what to do, and sometimes even what to eat. After all, it's his fault that you died, isn't it? You were his partner and he used to be is a doctor. How could he possibly trust himself with anything when he couldn't manage to save the most important thing in his life?

To the rest of his family, he's more pathetic than before. His obsession with his Mother was usually limited to when she was in the room, but now it's constant.

If he ever hears the quote "It's better to have loved and lost, then never loved at all," he gets supremely, violently angry. No. No, that's not true, it's bullshit, how dare you even say that to his face.

If he hadn't loved you, you would be alive. He would be alone, but you would be safe. You would be happy.

Now he's alone, and all you are is dead. He can't ever come back from it.

Karl Heisenberg

Rage. Unending, earth shattering Rage.

Whatever killed you better start to fucking pray, because Karl Heisenberg will not quit until it's suffering.

He doesn't kill who or whatever it was. He let's it sit there, mangled beyond belief, and uses his knowledge of mechanics and biology to keep it alive in constant, unending pain.

It's cathartic for him, but not in a healthy way. The more he hurts it, the better he feels, but at the end of the day, you're still gone, and he's still alone.

He's... lost.

Heisenberg should be angry, fuck he wants to be angry more than anything, but the longer he keeps the thing alive... emotions seem like they're too far away anymore. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants... you.

He keeps something of yours in his pocket at all times, just to run his fingers over it and remember you. Your eyes, your laugh, your smile... It's almost like a stress ball, and these days sticking his hand into his pocket to wrap his fingers around the thing is the only way he can calm down.

Sometimes he turns to ask your opinion on something, or tell you a joke with a big smile on his face because this one is going to make you laugh for sure-- and then he freezes when the reality sets in once again. You're not here.

Remember, Heisenberg has idealized the two of you as this perfect partnership. You were the first person who looked at him and loved everything that you saw. You weren't just his first real relationship, the first person that he implicitly trusted, but you were also his very first real friend.

He wasn't the most friendly person to begin with, but he did get better because of you. He was still spoiled, a little socially awkward, and maybe his dark sense of humor would slip and get a little too much, but he grew as a person.

Now that you're gone, he can't even remember what it's like not being a cruel, empty shell of rage. All he has left is his hatred of Mother Miranda.

After a while, it doesn't matter if he's ready to take her on or not. He's going to face that bitch head on and kill her, or die trying.

If he wins, he's finally free. If he doesn't... that's not so bad either. Karl doesn't really believe in an afterlife, but there's something appealing about joining you wherever you might be.

[fireemblems24]

Scarlet Blaze Ch 6

Onto Ch 6. Spoilers beneath the cut.

STORY

Edelgard: Invades everyone. Everyone: Turns against her. Edelgard: Surprised Pikachu face. Like, seriously.....

Wow, you mean these people don't want Edelgard conquering them? Shocking.

Poor Petra. Having to save the man who brutalized her country. And Caspar is so dense, saying that right by her.

Hubert making it clear Edelgard intends to rule the Alliance lol.

LAMO, Monica calling it "listen to reason" instead of exactly what it is - a brutal, violent, bloody conquest.

I had Shez express hesitation and he's wondering why friends have to sometimes fight each other. WELL - 👀👀👀 I think we know, Edelgard.

MAP

ANOTHER facility?? What on earth . . .

Petra feels conflicted about Count Berlitz. After her underwhelming map dialogue last time, this is an improvement.

Aww, Dimitri told Ashe to prioritize living over loyalty? Ashe seems pretty miserable right now. Hope he gets better.

Bernie is terrified of getting surrounded by enemies. That just makes the burning death on the hill so much worse.

That's rich. There's a merchant worried about being invaded. Maybe . . . don't invade other people first?

LAMO a noble defected from the Alliance because he thought Edelgard was more noble-friendly in her ruling than Claude.

Sounds like Dorothea's conflicted about the war.

SIDE BATTLES

Anna running around the map and setting up random shops is pretty neat.

LAMO, Edelgard thought Glouster's betrayal may have come from TWSITD.

How can anyone claim Edelgard never really meant to conquer everyone when you have them over here wishing Claude never took charge of the Alliance and it was chaos over there?

That conversation was villain behavior 101 lol.

Feels bad. Having to attack Leonie. Then Judith.

I thought Shez became short, but really Anna was just standing on a slope.

SHEZ & MANUELA C SUPPORT

So Shez stumbles on Manuela talking in her sleep about love gone bad.

Manuela's mad that even in her dreams love goes bad lamo.

She's a disaster in this support. She's hungover and has a messy healing tent. Shez calling her out. #Deserved.

So she says "who are you, my husband?" in the support. Anyone know if she says "wife" to F!Shez?

She's a disaster and I love her.

SHEZ & DOROTHEA C SUPPORT

Dorothea was known as the "Mystical Songstress." Some cool lore.

She's not thrilled with it though, since it implies that it's shocking (or "mystical") someone poor like her rose to the top.

Oh, man, more awkward singing. Like, the actress is good, for sure, but I find it so awkward. Like, who just asks someone to sing in the middle of a conversation?

Shez doesn't know what to make of opera lol.

SHEZ & LINHARDT C SUPPORT

Shez is asking a good question, why isn't Linhardt more interested in Shez's power? Is it just crests for Linhardt?

Even Linhardt doesn't know why he's not interested.

Linhardt called Shez's power sinister and his sword cold. This is soooo different from how Dimitri treat Shez's abilities.

MONICA & HUBERT C SUPPORT

Hubert's editing other people's (Monica's) reports. Dude deserves a raise.

So Monica sees herself as a servant. Does Hubert?

Oh, are we finally addressing that Hubert was brainwashed and gaslit into his loyalty to Edelgard? Ok, guess not.

Mannn, Hubert just does not take her seriously.

BERNADETTA & EDELGARD C SUPPORT

Nice to see some development about a MOM for once, but unsurprising it becomes actually about the dad and the mom's letter is just to give updates about dads. Ugh.

I really hate how much "put Varley in charge of a government controlled religion" is a joke at Varley's expense and not ever discussed as problematic. At least in AG it bites her in the ass.

MANUELA & JERITZA C SUPPORT

It's too bad they didn't get a support in Houses where Manuela could've addressed why she's so casual about fighting in the same army as the man she hated so much.

Oh, dear, she's thirsty.

Girllll, get better taste in men.

She comes across so desperate, poor woman. He wants nothing to do with her though. So that makes 2 people with terrible taste in this support.

MAIN BATTLE

Man, so far this is depressingly like CF. Oh, look, we're attacking Claude again.

Edelgard really set submit to me or die.

Linhardt's like, let me be part of the diplomacy. But, my man, what diplomacy??? All there is is terms of surrender or die, lamo.

Ick. Caspar - "When in doubt, take 'em out." He legit just called murdering people for daring to defend their homeland instead of considering surrender instead "sweating the small stuff." I forget how much I despise Caspar when he's fighting for Edelgard. No concern for human life.

"Defeat Lorenz and Count Glouster" :( Seriously, Lorenz is REALLY growing on me in GW by virtue of having the most interesting plot line there so far.

It would be so fantastic if Edelgard had to abandon her attack on the Alliance because Dimitri was raining hell down on her invasion of Faerghus.

So recruiting Balthus, Ignatz, and Lorenz. Lorenz deserves better than this. Balthus and Ignatz I get.

Hubert's like "Glouster's upset we hurt his heir." No shit, you injured his son. But SB doesn't have the guts to admit we just brutalized a man's son right in front of him and instead spins it with ugly words like "heir."

"Claude's shady scheme." My sister in Sothis you are INVADING him. Edelgard's self-awareness still at 0 I see. The funny thing is that you know she thinks she's the morally superior here one and that Claude's some dirty trickster using brains against her. How dare he!! /s

Edelgard: "I may be killing innocent Alliance soldiers for their own good, but at least I'm not using dirty tricks!" Says the woman with the most money and soldiers to spare. My God this woman never realizes her privilege.

I do not remember Glouster being loved and respected by his people in Houses, Lorenz, lol. I remember them finding him a greedy power-hungry dude who was suspected of killing merchants for gain. But hey, what do I know.

Lorenz makes such a good point. Glouster sees it as pointless because he lost, but I know Glouster sees otherwise in GW when he won.

I hate, hate, hate this is getting viewed as a "misstep." You were defending yourself from an invasion. Glouster is NOT in the wrong.

I LOVE how they view Glouster as "stabbing them in the back." You were invading them. OH MY GOD. This game is allergic to holding Edelgard responsible for anything and shifting blame to her victims.

xxxxx

[angry-geese]

OSHA Non Compliance

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. shameless smut. fingering, oral (fem and masc receiving), face riding, praise kink (kinda), multiple orgasms, mutual pining. gojo slander. a little dub con due to the sex pollen stuff. afab reader

Notes: some sex pollen smut with Nanami. i have a post thats pretty similar to this thats a gojo x reader which you can read here

Word Count: 3.3k

If there's one thing you two can agree on, it's how this is all Gojo’s fault.

The job was supposed to be simple; get in, exorcise the curse, get out. It wasn't a particularly deadly one, but it was proving to be difficult for lower grade sorcerers. Anyone who had come into contact with it fell violently ill, suffering effects that lasted between hours to days. The symptoms themselves varied from person to person. Nobody seemed to give a straight answer.

In response, you two were sent out.

As odd as it was, you didn't question it. Curses are odd, things like this happen. Two grade one sorcerers should have been enough to take this thing out. One alone should have been enough, not to mention the army of sorcerers sent after it before. Gojo wanted you to take backup just in case, shrugging you off when you asked why he couldn’t do it himself. You were certain you could take this alone, but he was insistent.

Reluctantly you dragged Nanami along.

The two of you weren't officially partners, but most of your jobs were done together. It was a mutual agreement. He found you much less annoying than Gojo. That's not to say he didn't find you annoying at first, but you were more tolerable. Nanami wasn’t much older than you—only by a few years—but he acted as a mentor when you first started out. You quickly improved, nearly rivaling him in strength. It wasn't long before you became a grade one sorcerer, same as him. On that day he was there to celebrate with you.

He likes to think you’ve turned out to be a semi-functional human being. Maybe he’s gotten sentimental as he’s grown older. He hated for his work life to cross over into his home life, but he’s made an exception for you. Any time you’d call, he’d come running.

The curse had taken up residence in an abandoned school, only being discovered when the building was being surveyed for possible reuse. You’re not sure why nobody had noticed it sooner, but you’ve learned not to question a curse’s behavior.

It’s attack had a strange area of effect. You've never seen anything like it. The fact that such a non-lethal curse was considered such a high grade should have tipped you off in the first place. The curse released some strange sort of fumes. Or spores. You really weren't certain what they were. It was airborne and you knew that you needed to stay far away.

While the direct hit missed you, you were still affected. You took in a lung-full of the stuff before you managed to get away.

If it weren't for Nanami…

You barely make it back to the car. You’re not injured, so much as you’re lightheaded, and nauseous.

“I’m not going to make it back to the school.” You say.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

Slowly you shake your head. It's not wrong, per se, but it's not right either. This is a strange type of hurt.

Your apartment is closer. The drive was twenty minutes on the way there; you make it back in about eight.

You’re not sure what to do once you get inside other than contemplate your life choices. You toss your keys and bag aside. There's not much you can do aside from flop down on your couch and pray. Not that you’re the praying type normally, but what could it hurt?

The effects of the pollen seem to hit you all at once. The sickly sweet taste in your mouth makes you gag. You fall to your hands and knees and retch, but nothing comes up. If you thought you felt bad before, you definitely do now. Sweat beads on your forehead. You feel jittery, yet lethargic. Heat radiates off your skin like a furnace. Your mouth has gone dry. Your clothes feel too tight. You’d claw them off your body if your partner wasn't sitting a few feet away.

You swallow hard as heat begins to pool between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, trying to get some relief.

While you’re slowly losing it, Nanami looks fine. As calm and collected as ever.

Nanami didn't seem to get the brunt of that attack. Or maybe he's better at hiding it than you.

He is.

He’s been dealing with an aching cock since you two left that building. He was all-too aware of every corner and bump on the ride home. You were too busy trying to escape with your dignity to notice him, and the tent that grows in his pants. He covers his lap with his suit jacket. You think nothing of it.

He studies every dip and curve of your clothed body. They cling to your skin with sweat in a way that makes his cock throb. Nanami knows how wrong it is. He shouldn't feel this way. You're his damn partner! Looking at you this feels so wrong.

In an attempt to comfort you, he smooths a hand across your back, gently squeezing your shoulder. Sweat beads in your hairline. Your chest heaves.

“I don't think it’s something we can wait out,” you say, swallowing hard.

“What are we-” it’s as if he didn't realize what he was asking. His eyes go wide, before his gaze shoots straight to the ground.

“‘Ken-” You say, hoping he can't hear the way your voice trembles, “I feel like I’ll die if you don't touch me.”

It's with a sinking, horrifying feeling that he agrees. Slowly you climb into his lap. It feels wrong. But your body fits perfectly against his. He’s your partner—your friend—you shouldn't be wanting him this way. He’s pliant against your touch, moving with you, paying close attention to each and every one of your movements. Every cell of your being wants him to fuck you.

“I know.” He says. “Me too.”

He hauls you into his arms, setting you down on the couch back-first. The sudden weightlessness you feel makes you gasp. There's nothing gentle behind his touch. Your hands work to undo the buttons of his shirt, but they tremble so bad it's hard to do.

“Don't worry about that.” He coos. "Let me take care of you."

With shaky hands he undoes the buttons on your pants, sliding them down your legs. His face heats up at the way your panties are already soaked through. All this just for him?

He tries not to stare too long. If you were the only thing he looked at for the rest of his life, he'd be content.

He strokes at your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He almost seems afraid to touch you. For a moment he is, but that quickly wears off when you moan. He can't help but watch the way you squirm and writhe under his touch. How the delicate fabric clings to your skin from how wet you are. He hates how much he enjoys seeing you like this. It feels wrong.

“Please,” there’s a hazy look in your eyes.

He swallows hard. You’re not thinking straight, he thinks, this is so wrong.

He pulls down your panties, throwing them aside with your pants. You tug off your shirt, quickly tossing it aside. His hands come up to palm at your breasts through the fabric of your bra. He gently tugs the fabric down, exposing your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air. As wrong as it feels, you would be lying if you said your partner wasn't attractive. Not only is he handsome, and one of the most powerful sorcerers you have met, he was a close—if not your closest—friend.

Nanami’s touches are feather-light. It's not that he's worried about hurting you—though the fear of that is there—he doesn't want this to ruin your friendship. He doesn't want you to view him differently because of this. The two of you have gone through much together; he doesn't want this to make things awkward. He’s just wanted you for so long.

He never intended for his work life to cross over into his home life. That was until you came along. Nanami can't imagine a life without you around.

Two of his fingers press against your entrance, his thumb circling your clit. His fingers are long, and fairly thick. Only one enters you at first, but you’re wet enough he adds a second one not long after. His fingers curl, stroking against your g-spot. His touch feels like too much yet not enough. You desperately grind against his hand, chasing your own release.

If he can just get you to finish, maybe he can wait it out. You’ve clearly got it worse than him. Right?

He pulls you up into a kiss. His lips taste sweet. Your lips part, allowing his tongue into your mouth. His chest presses against yours. Your thighs tighten around his hand, though not in an attempt to stop him.

Heat pools low in your stomach, slowly building in intensity. You moan into Nanami's mouth. You're reduced to a whining, whimpering mess under his hand.

His free hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your head so your gaze meets his. A sleepy grin spreads across your face. The pad of his thumb brushes over your glossy lips. In a moment of lucidity you wrap your lips around it, swirling your tongue around the digit.

Nanami almost forgets how to breathe. Nobody can get him nearly as flustered as you can.

The coil in your stomach snaps. If you knew how much you gushed around Nanami's fingers, you'd be blushing. Your cunt clenches around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm on his hand.

Your first orgasm provides no relief. In a matter of seconds—probably less time than that if you're being honest—you're ready for another round.

You work the last few buttons of his shirt open before he gets impatient and pulls the thing over his head. You let out an audible “oh!” at the sight of his chest. It's more toned than you expected; not that you’ve given it much thought.

“Like what you see?” He says in a sudden moment of boldness that it surprises both of you.

You nod. Now really isn't the time to be shy, but you can't help it.

He's painfully hard, his erect cock leaking precum against his thigh. The tent in his pants is impressive to say the least. You get on your knees, tugging his pants down his hips. You were right to notice his bulge. He's huge. Long and thick. Uncut too. The hairs towards the base of his cock are light—a similar sandy blonde as the hair on his head—and neatly trimmed. He always takes care of himself. A prominent vein runs up the bottom. A small pang of guilt hits you when you realize how needy his cock looks. His chest, the tips of his nose and ears, and the head of his cock are all dusted with pink. He looks at you with such adoration it makes your chest flutter.

You slide off the couch, getting on your knees. Nanami parts his legs just enough for you to kneel between them.

His eyes go wide the moment your lips touch his cock. You press kitten licks to the tip, watching the way his lip twitches in frustration. Nanami’s hands bury in your hair. The feeling of his nails raking against your scalp makes goosebumps raise along your skin. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you stroke with your hands. Saliva runs down your chin in streams, tears stained black with eyeliner streaming down your cheeks.

The only sign that he’s about to orgasm is the way he tilts his head back, cursing.

When he cums, he cums a lot. It's thick, but runny, and has almost no taste to it at all. His cum spills out the corners of your mouth when you pull off of him, releasing him with a pop!

Without thinking, you swallow.

With how long he stares down at you, it almost seems like you’ve done something wrong.

You can't stop the squeak you let out as he hauls you into his lap. He lays back, guiding your hips so you’re kneeling above his face.

“What are you-”

“It’s only fair that I return the favor,” he says.

No matter how hard you try, he doesn't let you wriggle out of his grasp.

“I- I don't want to suffocate you.” You say.

The amount of his testicles Nanami would cut off just to get a taste of your cunt… He’ll give you a hint, it's more than one and less than three.

“You won't.” He said. Even if you could—which you couldn't, he’s stronger than he looks—he’d die happy.

Your thighs cradle his head in an almost perfect way. There's almost no better feeling. His tongue dips between your folds, circling your clit. You taste sweet, he notes. A kiss is pressed to your clit before long, slow strokes of a hot tongue lavish it in affection. He kneads your thighs gently all while alternating between licking and sucking on your bundle of nerves.

He wants nothing more than to take his time with you. After all, he’s got years to make up for.

You can feel and hear him panting against your dripping sex. He can do little to hide the way he grinds his bulge against the couch. He grunts when you tug his hair, guiding him to where you need him most.

There's a feeling of emptiness as you cum, your walls contracting around nothing where something should be. You ride out your orgasm with a series of short, high pitched moans, rocking your cunt against his mouth. Nanami takes all of it in stride, lewdly slurping at your sex. Your thighs shake, your cunt spasming as he continues to press kitten licks to your clit.

And god- the sight of his face; his lips wet and slick from your cunt, eyes hazy with lust, his hair a mess.

"It's no use." You say. It's in-between whimpers and moans. Even as your second orgasm approaches, you feel no sense of relief. "I need your cock."

He feels himself twitch with need. His cock barely went soft the first time he came. Nanami wants nothing more than to sink his length into your warm, wet cunt.

He doesn't bother carrying you to your room. He would have fucked you in the car if you asked. He’d fuck you on every flat surface of your apartment if you wanted him too.

His cock presses against your entrance, rubbing at your folds. He doesn't mean to tease you, he just wants to drag this out as long as he can. You're so wet you take his cock with no resistance. He groans at the feeling of your cunt as you sink onto him.

Cumming on his tongue is intoxicating, but it feels like nothing in comparison to his cock. Nothing substitutes for the hot, full sensation of his cock inside of you. You string together words in some desperate attempt to make a sentence. Being completely filled is making you woozy. Nanami fits just so well inside of you. It's like you were made for this. You're not sure if it's the pollen, or just him, but you can feel every ridge and vein on his cock.

"Can't believe-" he huffs, "can't believe you got tighter after cumming twice."

"Please Ken," you whimper.

It hurts, but it feels too nice to stop. Nanami can't tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as you ride him. The sounds of skin slapping on skin echo through the room, mingling with his grunts and your moans, creating a lewd cacophony.

"Fuck," he says, his seemingly calm demeanor fading, "you're so fucking pretty."

Gojo would give him shit about this for weeks if he knew…

You're starting to think he meant to do this.

"I'm going to kill him," you say, although it's hard to stay mad for long.

“Me too,” he says.

Your orgasm rolls over you like a wave, throwing you around and spitting you back out, leaving you an absolute mess. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Eyeliner runs down your face in streams, leaving black trails across your skin. It's the first time you've cum from g-spot stimulation alone. But it's also the same as the other two times you've cum: you're ready for another round instantly.

At some point in time Nanami gets on top. Your legs lock around his back, pulling him in. Maybe you blacked out. Exhaustion creeps into your limbs, leaving them sore and wobbly.

Nanami thrusts harder, trying to quell the fire that pits in his stomach. He doesn't warn you that he's coming. If he's being honest, he didn't know he was either. You just feel hot ropes of his cum fill you, spilling out, staining your couch. When he cums, his cock doesn't even go soft. If anything he’s harder. Almost instantly he’s ready for another round. He's never felt anything quite like this.

The sensation of his cum dripping out of you, running down your thighs in streams is bizarre. There's so much of it. You don't want him to stop. He brings a hand down to give your ignored clit some attention. His spare hand wipes your tears away, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek.

Even as he's made you cum for the nth time tonight he doesn't stop. The two of you can only fuck and cum until you're no longer sure where your body ends and his begins. It doesn't feel like enough. You’ve never been so full. He wants to cum in you and breed you until your womb is swollen with his child.

At some point he collapses from exhaustion—he thinks—and he's certain the two of you are going to die. No human can survive this, he thinks, that's impossible.

Neither of you died.

It could be minutes, it could be hours; by the time you wake up the sun has set completely. You're not sure what time it is, but judging by how long the sky's been dark, it must have been a while. Nanami snores softly, his drool pooling in the valley between your breasts. You card a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. One of his eyes cracks open. He can't tell if he’s dreaming or not. If he is, then this is too good to be true.

"You still with me?" You ask.

He nods.

You're cradled chest to chest, his heartbeat as steady and alive as ever. He pulls out slowly, admiring the mess between your thighs. Even in his sobering state he finds you truly beautiful. From the way your skin glints with sweat to the way you run your tongue over your parched lips. You stretch out, trying to work the stiffness out of your limbs. You’re certain you’ll be sore in the morning.

Nanami disappears into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. What you could really use is a shower.

If you want, he'll never mention this again. He's starstruck by your naked form, his cum dripping down your thighs. Part of him wants to see you like this every night. But that might still be the pollen talking.

He's sputtering out an apology; stringing words together in hopes of begging for your forgiveness.

"I didn't think that's how it'd happen," you say, shrugging, "but…"

You really can't complain. Everyone but Nanami seemed to realize how head over heels you were for each other.

"You… liked it?" He asks.

If you didn't like it, he would know. Nanami can't believe it.

"Minus the nearly dying part." You say. "I've spent the past year and a half trying to get in your pants. So yeah."

Instantly his face turns red. How has he not noticed? He's both mortified, and relieved that you feel the same—or at least similar to him. Then the embarrassment hits him. He didn't think he could be more embarrassed than he was standing naked in your living room.

"I'm gonna go shower." You say. He gives a nod in response, stopping dead in his tracks when you say: "join me."

[allthatyoulove]

A Heavy Feeling

Bucky Barnes / Female Reader

Summary: A fight with Bucky leaves you feeling alone.

Includes: angst angst angst, tiny fluff towards end, mentions of not eating

Words: 2k

A/N: A little angsty drabble I’ve had sitting in my drafts. I put female reader but it’s pretty general :) Please check out my prompt list! You can request as many prompts as you’d like! Hope you enjoy the story! Feel free to leave any feedback and please let me know of any warnings or errors I missed, thanks for stopping by :)

~~~

These last few days have probably been some of the worst in my life.

My life thus far has been far from easy, but it’s hard to remember a time where I felt as low as I do now.

I sit at the dining table, using my fork to mess with the food on my plate. Silverware clinks against plates, conversations are lively. Warm lighting fills the room, the huge window allowing a glimpse at the night sky. Everyone is eating and talking, laughing and smiling.

Everyone except Bucky and I.

They know why, which is probably why they were quick to put space between us as we all sat down for dinner. I was the last to come to the table, everyone stopping mid-conversation to look at me with pity. I sat down, and haven’t spoken a word to anyone since. They had eventually ignored the heavy tension tethered between Bucky and I, deciding that constant talking would prevent the chance of an awkward silence crashing over the entire table.

I had told them I could eat in my room, that I didn’t want to make dinner weird for everyone else. They insisted I come. I couldn’t ask Bucky to not come to dinner either, especially when I knew how much he liked sitting down with everyone, taking an hour or two to enjoy the company of who had become his family. No matter how mad I was at him, I could never ask him to give that up.

So that led me here, sitting at the edge of the table, messing with my food. Bucky was sitting across from me, to the very left edge of the table. The farthest seat from mine. Being so far from him was probably worse than sitting right next to him. I only glanced at him a few times, which I was proud of myself for. He was in his black leather jacket, with a black shirt and pants. Everyone had gone out just before dinner, but I didn’t feel up to it.

Seeing Bucky come through the door with a smile on his face made my heart tighten with pain, before I became disgusted with myself on how selfish the reaction was.

He sat at the table now, not talking with anyone. His arms were folded, and he hadn’t touched his food either. Everytime I looked at him he was focused on the same part of the table, zoned out. His brows were dropped, his lips in a soft frown. His eyes were filled with sadness, almost a puppy look. I could feel his eyes shift from the table to me every so often, trying my hardest not to meet his eyes.

We had only been sitting down for around 5 minutes, and I felt like I was suffocating. That’s all I’ve felt these past couple of days.

I’d asked him for space, said I needed to think things through. He respected that and listened, hesitantly. He didn’t go out with everyone as much, staying in his room save for the times Steve dragged him out. I was better at turning down the attempts of them trying to get me to go out. I had barely left my room.

I knew he was hurting, I could see it in his eyes and in the way he carried himself. I wondered if he was hurting as much as I was. I couldn’t sleep at night, couldn’t leave my bed. Couldn’t think without him next to me. Couldn’t think with him next to me.

I set my fork down, sighing to myself as the group was heavily engaged in conversation. I became alert of every action I made, feeling Bucky’s eyes on me once more. I gulped in anticipation, not thinking before drifting my eyes to his.

Our eyes met, my own filling with tears. His eyebrows pulled together, his own eyes filling with emotion. His mouth opened to say something, before I abruptly stood up, picking up my plate and taking it with me to my room. I could hear the conversations pause, confused sentences being muttered before another door shut, a few doors down from mine. Bucky’s. He must’ve left right after I did.

They eventually continued talking, but I stopped listening. I tossed my plate on a table, almost breaking it. I paced across my room, back and forth. I let the tears fall freely down my cheek, bringing a hand up to my mouth to be quiet. I sat down on the floor, holding my face in my hands. Not a single thought went through my head, but I couldn’t stop crying.

A few minutes passed before I had no more tears to shed, quiet and dry sobs leaving my mouth occasionally. I calmed down, using the breathing exercises Bucky had taught me. I almost started crying again at the thought, but I had nothing left in me.

I sat on the floor, sniffling and breathing deep breaths. Staring at the ground, no particular thought staying for more than a second.

My head shot up as a soft knock came to my door. A single knock, nothing more. Almost a tap.

I didn’t need to ask who it was, I knew. I held my breath, staring at the door. He said nothing. I crawled over to the door, holding my ear to the thin wood. I could hear the thumping of his heart, feeling it against the door. He must’ve been sitting against it- on the floor as well. His shaky breaths went through the wood.

I sighed, sitting with my back right where he was on the other side. I set my head on it, producing a tiny thump sound. The same sound came from the other side a second later.

My hand went up to my mouth again, sobs threatening to break from my throat. It was so painful, knowing he was sitting with me on the other side of the door. Not being able to touch him. The sound of his heartbeat comforted the pain slightly. I breathed in and out, in and out. Trying to calm down. I lost track of how long I was sitting there, scared he would leave first. I decided I couldn’t handle it if he did.

I didn’t try to listen to what he did on the other side of the door as I suddenly stood up, striding over to my bed and throwing myself under the covers. I didn’t come back out.

My eyes shot open, sitting up. The moonlight shone through the window the size of my wall, illuminating the covers. I had fallen asleep.

My head had found its way out of the covers, as they now sat loosely below my ribs. I rubbed my eyes with one hand, running it through my hair. I sighed as I looked around the room, yawning. I spotted my plate still sitting on the table. I got up, grabbing it and walking over to my door. I slowly opened it, cringing as it creaked. I peeked out, looking both ways down the hall. It was almost pitch black, save for the window that was providing light sitting at the end of the hallway. The coast was clear.

I closed my door slightly, walking to the kitchen. The dining table was clear and cleaned, leaving no trace of dinner earlier.

I put the food into a container, writing my name on it before shoving it into the fridge for later.

I turned around, walking back to my room. I slowly opened the door, hearing something. I paused, waiting. I didn’t hear anything. Was it my creaking door? I went to start to open it again when I heard it.

Whimpering.

My entire body froze for a split second before I strode straight to his room. I knew that sound, and I knew what it meant.

I cracked his door open, peeking in.

Bucky was laying in the middle of his bed, the sheets below his waist. He was shirtless, his vibranium arm wrapped over a pillow. The image pulled on my heart strings, tying it into a knot as he twitched, his other arm moving at his side.

I walked over to the side of the bed, putting my hands on it to hold myself up as I leaned over him.

“Bucky.” I whispered. His face turned just barely, still asleep. Still in his nightmare.

It had been so long since he had one, I forgot what to do. I reached a hand up, setting it on his metal bicep and shaking it lightly.

“Buck-”

I was halfway through his name when he turned around, pulling me into the bed with him and flipping me on my back. I gasped as he put his forearm against my neck, applying pressure. His eyes had snapped open, frantic and scared. Violent.

My arms pulled at his arm, shooting him pleading eyes as I struggled to breath. A few seconds passed before he let out a sharp breath, slumping as he seemingly came back to his body. His eyes shot open even wider, instantly taking his arm off of my neck. I gasped for air, breathing hard and fast. His eyes shot between mine, confusion and sadness and regret painted over them.

I stared at him as I caught my breath, waiting as his mouth stayed open- trying to find words.

He closed his mouth, backing away and sitting on the edge of the bed. I stayed in my spot for a second, cautious. I was unsure of what to do until I heard a sob escape him. I instantly sat up, my hand going to his shoulder. I tried to pull him to face me, but he remained facing the wall. His head was in his hands, his shoulders starting to shake as he cried. I walked on my knees, my chest against his back as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

I laid my head against his back, listening to the sound of his heart and breathing deeply- hoping he would soon follow. He continued shaking as I soothingly ran my fingers across his stomach, patient. Waiting.

“I thought they had stopped.” He let out, his voice cracking.

“I know. I know, baby.” I said, holding him tighter.

A few minutes passed as he gradually stopped shaking, occasionally twitching as he copied my breathing. He picked his head from his hands, as I raised my own from his back. I moved my body so I could look at him from the side. His eyes were puffy, his nose and cheeks red and tear stained. I brought one of my hands to his face, bringing it to meet mine and rub his cheek with my thumb. He stared at me, at my lips. I wiped the tears from his face, looking at him with love. He returned it, looking at me as if it was the first time.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, his voice rough and filled with regret. I shook my head, rejecting his apology with the motion. He opened his mouth to speak again when I brought his face to mine, our lips meeting.

My eyebrows scrunched together as I pushed my lips into his. He didn’t hesitate in kissing me back, his hands coming up to hold my face, to bring me closer. His lips perfectly molded into mine, the salty taste of his tears mixing between our tongues. Our noses bumped into each other repeatedly as we messily tried to both apologize and profess our undying love into the kiss.

I slowly pulled away after a few minutes, resting my forehead against his as I caught my breath. We looked at each other’s lips, chests heaving as my thumb rubbed his cheek. His hand drawing circles on my back. I broke out into a smile, him following me. I fell on my side back onto the bed, bringing him with me.

We laid across from each other, an inch apart. I brought my fingers down to his lips, pulling his lip and hearing it fall back with a pop. I looked at all of his features, knowing them by memory but still wanting them forever seared into my brain. I missed him.

Being in his room with the moon casting light over us, wrapped in his arms, I felt so happy. After days of nothing but a hole where my heart was, I felt complete. I was home.

We had a lot to talk about, but it could wait. I wanted to enjoy this moment.

[eliemo]

Heart of Ice

Summary: Virgil quickly realizes the light sides had some kind of unspoken rule about touch. Which would be fine, if it didn't just apply to him.

TWs: Brief panic attack, touch starvation and mentions of its affects, self esteem issues, angst with a happy ending

Taglist:  @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess (let me know if you want to be added)

Virgil got it. Really, he did.

He was the villain for a long time, an unwanted nuisance everyone hated, and understandably so. He would never hold any hostility against them, not when he knew he deserved it.

Now...maybe he wasn’t a villain. Still a nuisance for sure, but a tolerated one. He’d been getting closer with the other sides, Patton’s smiles more frequent and genuine, Logan taking a real interest in what he had to say, and Roman’s annoyance quickly turning to fond affection.

So maybe they were friends. Or they were getting there at least. Virgil knew he cared about them more than they would ever care about him, but that was ok. He wasn’t outright despised and that was more than he’d ever dreamed of.

Sure, their affection could just be to keep him from ducking out again since they’d found out how easily he could ruin Thomas by leaving, but...but he hoped it was more than that.

It was a mix of conflicting emotions and desires, Virgil never quite able to understand if anything was genuine or not.

But they didn’t hate him. That was the important thing. It would be selfish to want anything more when he was so utterly unlikable, right?

He needed to get over himself. It didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t be bothering him this much. It was completely understandable that they didn’t want to touch him.

But did they have to act like he was some kind of disease?

They were all touchy feely people. Roman and Patton hugged countless times a day, and even Logan would absentmindedly clap their shoulders or squeeze their hands in passing.  

Virgil watched them lean up against each other, lace their fingers together, pat each other's back in greeting and praise. It all came so naturally to them, clearly some kind of unspoken language in their little family.

And Virgil wanted that. He wanted it so badly it hurt. His chest squeezed whenever he saw Patton squeeze Logan’s hand, the loneliness crushing when Roman would pick Patton up in a crushing but safe hug.

Virgil...couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been touched. He’d grazed a shoulder in passing once or twice over the years, and he and Princey had accidentally held hands for half a second during a video, but other than that he came up blank.

And he’d definitely never had a hug. He knew that for sure. No one had offered one because...because why would they? Who would want to hug Virgil?

It was amazing enough that they were willing to be in the same room with him. All three of them were trying so hard to be friendly in the last few weeks since he’d told them his name and...it was incredible. It was like a dream.

But it was so unbearably obvious how careful they were not to touch him. Like he was something disgusting to be avoided. Like he would burn them, taint them beyond repair.

They would swerve out of his way when passing through a room to avoid brushing his shoulder, quickly pull their hands away if their fingers were about to brush his, carefully leaving as much empty space as possible if sitting beside him on the couch.

It went on for weeks, and it didn’t stop. No one commented on it, or bothered to avoid physical affection in front of him, and Virgil decided the best course of action was to try and ignore it.

If he brought it up, it would just turn into something awkward, and nothing would change. He’d rather just avoid the subject completely.

Virgil could handle that. He could ignore the ache in his chest and push down the thoughts of how desperately he just wanted a hug.

Everyone at least had the decency not to make it a big deal. It wasn’t a big deal.

Until...until it kind of was.

It had been a stressful few days for all of them, but obviously Virgil was taking the brunt of Thomas’s anxiety. They all knew that, and he appreciated how attentive and gentle they’d been with him lately.

Thomas was waiting on an important phone call, a confirmation that would give him a green light on his latest project they’d all been working non-stop on.

Virgil didn’t know the specific details of what they were waiting for, he’d lost himself to his panic immediately after hearing the words “important phone call” but he knew it was a yes or no answer, and that Thomas was incredibly anxious about it.

He and Patton were waiting in the mindscape’s kitchen, mugs of untouched hot chocolate sitting in front of them, Patton idly chatting to keep Virgil distracted.

And then Roman and Logan were suddenly rising up- the Prince with a dazzling grin on his face and Logan with a relieved sort of smile.

“He said yes!” Roman announced, and just like Virgil’s shoulders sagged, all the tension seeping out of his muscles. Thank god.

There were still more things to worry about now that the new project was actually underway. They would have to work out a new schedule, make sure they had enough time to perfect their scripts, and then of course there was the problem of nobody liking the finished product--

But that could wait. Right now...it was just nice to see everyone so happy.

Patton was already jumping up to give Roman a hug, reaching over to squeeze Logan’s hand, and Virgil quickly turned away before the ache in his chest, the feeling that longed for something similar could turn into the cold throbbing pain he occasionally grew familiar with.

He grabbed the mugs of now cooling hot chocolate to distract himself, smiling to himself as he tried to focus on the relief instead of the sorrow, and carried them over to the counter.

He set the mugs down, turned back around, and suddenly Patton was in front of him, pulling Virgil into the first hug he’d ever received in his life.

Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Patton was warm up against him, solid and comforting, arms wrapped around Virgil’s back like the softest thing in the world, and for just a second, for the first time, everything was perfect. Everything was ok, and the ache in his chest was gone.

It lasted less than two seconds, and suddenly Patton was pulling away like he’d actually been burned.

“I--”

Patton stopped whatever he’d been about to say, staring warily at a completely frozen, speechless Virgil. The warmth had seeped out of his body almost immediately, the ache returning with a vengeance, the want for touch even worse than before.

Logan and Roman were staring, eyes going from Patton to Virgil, tense and panicked like they were expecting some kind of violent reaction.

God, was touching him really that bad?

“I’m sorry,” Patton said quickly, glancing back at the others before turning back to Virgil, who quickly averted his gaze. “Sorry, Virge I wasn’t...I wasn’t thinking. I just got excited.”

“Right,” Virgil said, glad that at least his voice didn’t betray how it felt like his heart was crumbling. “I get it.”

“Virgil,” Patton said softly, and Virgil’s heart sank when he took a step back, putting even more space in between them. “I didn’t mean to, kiddo, I...it won’t happen again.”

Of course it wouldn’t. Virgil shouldn’t expect it to. They didn’t even want to brush shoulders with him, so why the hell would anyone ever hug him voluntarily?

“I know,” he said, already moving towards the doorway, grimacing when the others stepped away to give him extra space. He couldn’t help but feel a little bitter at how obvious all of it was. Come on, it wasn’t like he was infected. “It’s whatever.”

He stalked out of the kitchen, for the first time allowing himself to feel angry over this whole stupid thing. After weeks of tirelessly working to be better, after being accepted in every other way, they still wouldn’t…

He’d thought he was getting better. They’d called him family.

“Virgil?” Logan called, but Virgil ignored him, really not in the mood for any half-hearted excuses or lectures on why he should just be happy with what he got.

It was selfish to ask for more. He was greedy and awful and he would never really be one of them. He should know that by now and stop filling his head with fantasies that they might actually love him as much as they loved each other.

Virgil didn’t bother looking back to see if any of them looked even a little bit guilty. He pulled up his hood, hurried up the stairs, and locked himself in his room. It was probably where they wanted him, anyway.

Virgil collapsed at the end of his bed, head in his hands, well aware it probably looked like he was throwing a tantrum. They all probably hated him even more now.

But...but could they really blame him for being frustrated? Yeah, he didn’t expect them to be entirely comfortable around him, definitely not as physical as they were with each other, but he was really trying.

They didn’t need to make him feel like some walking virus.

Well. He’d gotten a hug, at least. His first and last real hug. He thought he might do anything to have that feeling again.

But no one wanted to hug Anxiety. Patton had said so himself- never again.

When Virgil allowed himself to be coaxed out of his room for dinner a few hours later, he noted with some sense of relief that the others seemed determined to pretend the incident in the kitchen never happened.

Good. While it didn’t undo how humiliated and disgusting he felt, the sooner they all forgot about it the sooner Virgil could continue ignoring how badly it hurt.

He shouldn't be upset. He needed to calm down and get over himself before he started causing issues.

He did, however, wonder if it was just his imagination that Roman’s chair seemed farther away from him today.

“So...movie night tonight, right?” Patton asked suddenly, voice chipper as he set down his fork. “I think we could all use some relaxation.”

“A splendid idea!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil managed not to flinch at the volume of his voice. “You’ll be joining us right, Marilyn Morose?”

Virgil startled when the attention suddenly turned to him, suspicion and hope waging war at the soft encouragement in Prince’s voice.

Was this...a guilt thing?

“I- I mean I guess,” he said. “Maybe. If you like, want me to.”

He’d always known they did movie nights at least once a week, all cuddled up together on the couch, but Virgil had never actually been invited to one until he revealed his name. He’d attended a couple of them now, and they were...nice. Even if he always ended up on the armchair.

“Of course we do!” Patton said. “We always do. You’re our family, kiddo!”

Well, they certainly had a funny way of showing that.

Virgil quickly backtracked, pushing away his own dark thoughts. That wasn’t fair to them. Aside from the lack of any physical touch, they had welcomed him almost completely. In every other way, he was treated like one of them.

Besides, he’d clearly done something to warrant the unspoken no-touching rule. It wasn’t their fault he was too stupid to figure out what it was.

“You are a large part of the reason Thomas succeeded today,” Logan added, and Virgil felt a bit breathless at the praise. “You stayed vigilant and cautious, and made sure there were no mistakes. I’m very grateful for your assistance.”

Virgil ducked his head, surprised when glancing at the other two showed only kind smiles and honest appreciation in their eyes. They were...actually being serious. He’d done something right.

“It...it wasn’t...I was just--”

“Doing your job,” Logan finished for him. “And doing it quite well, I might add. As you usually do.”

It wasn’t anywhere near as intense as the feeling Patton’s hug had brought, but...but it was close, warmth spreading over his chest. Virgil let himself relax, and offered a small smile in return.

“Ok,” he said, because he still was absolutely useless when it came to voicing his thoughts. “Thanks. Uh, you...you too.”

He might have missed it if he wasn’t always so attentive to people’s body language (sometimes overly so), but Logan’s hand was suddenly moving forward like he was going to pat Virgil on the arm.

It never made contact, of course. Logan caught himself in less than a second, the logical side sitting up ramrod straight and quickly pulling his hand back to his lap.

He offered an apologetic smile, Patton and Roman quickly clearing their throats and turning back to their dinner plates, and Virgil was forcibly reminded where he stood.

He’d done what he was supposed to do, keeping Thomas safe and helping him reach his goals, but that didn’t just magically change things.

Right. No touching. But he could survive off nothing but words of validation and verbal affirmation. That was just as good.

Except…

Except between the accidental hug and the rush of anticipation that came with Logan almost putting a hand over his own, Virgil had never felt the longing for any type of physical touch so strongly in his entire life.

He’d gotten used to having nothing, to being alone, just periodic glimpses of the warmth he would always be left out of. He’d adapted to it, learned to live with the cold ache in his chest, and moved on.

And now...

Now it kind of felt like he was dying. Like the cold loneliness was wrapping around him, all powerful and suffocating, his breaths coming faster and faster--

Patton stood to begin clearing the table, and Virgil was moving before he even really processed what he was doing.

“I got it,” he said. He was trembling slightly, and he was almost positive they could all hear it in his voice. “I can do the dishes. I’ll do them.”

It was a stupid, stupid thought that had crept into his brain, but right now- as desperate as it was- it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

Patton blinked, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “I- well thank you, kiddo but that’s ok, I think I--”

“I can do it,” he insisted. “You can- You can go relax, I- I got it.”

That was what he needed to do, right? He couldn’t be left feeling this empty and cold all the time. He would never give up what he had with the others but being this close to them all the time had awoken something in him. Nobody ever touched him and he couldn’t keep going like this.

He’d done well today. He’d been good and Logan had almost, almost set aside whatever personal bias they all had to touch him. It had been so close.

So obviously...obviously he wasn’t good enough. Not quite. He was still just horrible enough that no one could bring themselves to close the distance between them.

But that was ok. He could do better. He could be better. And if that didn’t work, then...well, then verbal praise was the next best thing, right?

Unfortunately, he must look even worse than he felt because Roman was suddenly reaching for Virgil’s plate, pulling it out of his reach.

For a second, Virgil thought about reaching for it under the small flare of hope that their fingers might brush.

“I don’t believe that is the wisest idea,” Logan said. “You’re clearly agitated and distressed. I recommend you wait on the couch while we clean up tonight.”

Virgil shook his head, though logically he knew the dirty dishes would end up slipping right through his shaking fingers if he tried to clean up right now.

But he couldn’t take the thought of just sitting on the couch, a useless hindrance they would only grow to despise more and more.

“I- I want to help--”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Ever since you began regularly eating meals with us, there have been exactly three times you have not helped with the clean up. Two of those were because Thomas summoned you, and the other was due to your fatigue after a recent panic attack.”

“But I--”

“You have had a long day,” the logical side continued. “You’re exhausted, and you need to sit down before you end up hurting yourself. Nobody is going to be angry if you take a break today, Virgil. Please accompany me to the living room.”

And Virgil knew there was no way to argue with any of that. Not when Roman and Patton were nodding encouragingly. Not when Logan was motioning for him to follow and he thought maybe, maybe he would put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder to guide him into the living room.

He didn’t.

They both ended up on the couch, Logan counting out familiar breathing exercises to keep Virgil from hyperventilating. He did his best to focus on calming down, eyes cast stubbornly down to the ground.

There was a good couple inches of space between them, enough that Logan wouldn’t accidentally bump into him if he moved his arm too fast. Of course.

“I assume what happened earlier today has made you jumpy,” Logan said after a few moments. “I assure you, Patton really is sorry. Hugging you was never his intention, sometimes the others can just get...over excited when it comes to physical affection. Patton can’t always control himself.”

Virgil bit his lip, forcibly biting back tears that threatened to rise because this was really not helping. He understood that no one ever planned on hugging him, he didn’t need it shoved in his face all the time.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”

Despite everything, Virgil had actually managed to calm down a bit by the time the others joined them for movie night, Roman plopping down on the other side of Logan, Patton shuffling around to find the remote and set down popcorn bowls.

Virgil knew trying to leave would only invite more worried frowns and gentle questions he didn’t know how to answer (besides, he didn’t particularly like the thought of being all alone up in his room right now), so he just took a shaky breath and willed himself to stay calm, shoving everything aside for the moment.

And then Patton moved to sit down with the others, and visibly hesitated at the end of the couch.

There was plenty of room for one more person. It wouldn’t even be particularly cramped, not with the way Roman was already invading most of Logan’s space.

But, of course, it was just enclosed enough that it ran the risk of Patton’s leg brushing Virgil’s when he sat down.

Virgil stood up before Patton even had the chance to open his mouth and stalked over to the empty armchair, not bothering to hide his irritation. He might not blame them for it, but that didn’t mean he had to act happy about being so repulsive to everyone. 

“Aw, you don’t have to do that kiddo,” Patton said. “You can stay on the couch, I don’t mind.”

“It’s whatever,” he said, and it was like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, the sudden distance separating Virgil from everyone else making him shudder, and his reply came out a lot more curt than he’d meant it to. “This is where you want me, right?”

Patton had lowered himself next to Logan and was peering at Virgil curiously, worried smile dropping to a slight frown. “You can sit wherever you want, kiddo. You know that.”

Virgil couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped. “Right. Just as long as it’s somewhere you won’t accidentally hug me again, right?”

The room was plunged into an uneasy silence. Great. He’d managed to make movie night awkward and the television hadn’t even been turned on yet.

“Kiddo, I--”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, guilt coiling in his gut. “It’s...sorry. I didn’t- I know you didn’t mean to. Just...long day.”

“We’ve all had a long day,” Roman snapped, sitting up from where he’d been leaning against Logan, and Virgil inadvertently found himself wondering how that would feel. “There’s no need to be rude to Patton, Negative Nancy.”

He was the one being rude? Him? After weeks of them treating Virgil like he was contagious and not even bothering to offer an explanation?

“Right,” he muttered. “I’m the asshole. Like always.”

“Virgil,” Logan spoke up, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, and Virgil deflated. “We...understand your uneasiness. But between the three of us, physical contact has become something of a habit. We have been careful not to extend that to you, but habits take time to grow out of. And mistakes will be made.”

And Virgil...Virgil was pretty sure if he didn’t get out of this room right now he was going to burst into tears. They’d never actually talked about this before. He’d never heard them acknowledge that it wasn’t just his overactive imagination.

“I get that,” he said, voice painfully strained. “I do, I’m...I’m not trying to fight I just- just...do you guys have to be so obvious about it?”

Virgil risked a glance up, all three of them staring at him now with some form of hesitant uncertainty.

Logan cleared his throat and echoed Virgil’s request. “Obvious?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You guys don’t...I don’t get why you’ve all decided touching me is somehow the worst fucking thing in the world. I know...I know you won't touch me and it’s not like I blame you- trust me, I’ve met myself- but...you could at least maybe try not to treat me like I’m carrying the goddamn plague!”

His outburst was met with silence, the other side’s expressions unreadable, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized his vision was becoming quickly clouded with tears.

He quickly started to backtrack. “I mean, I’m...sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to...it’s ok you guys. Really, it is. I get it, I’m...I’m Anxiety. Nobody wants...obviously you guys aren’t ever gonna--”

“Virgil,” Logan cut him off, and the logical side sounded...panicked? “I believe we may have had a very large misunderstanding. You...would you like us to engage in physical contact with you?”

Virgil hunched his shoulders, frantically blinking away tears. “I’m not...I’m not gonna make anyone...you don’t want to, and that’s fine. Really. I’m not mad, it’s ok.”

“Honey, no.” Patton sounded breathless when he spoke up, frantic. “That’s not it at all! We thought you didn’t want us touching you!”

Virgil froze, everything around him screeching to a stop, and for a moment he thought he must have misheard.

“I- you...what?” Why would they... how could they think that? He’d actually thought it was fairly obvious how badly he wanted it.

Roman stood up from the couch and crossed his arms. “Why on earth would we go out of our way to avoid touching you if it wasn’t to make you comfortable?”

Virgil blinked, suddenly completely lost. What the hell was going on? He’d thought they’d made their intentions pretty clear.

“I...why wouldn’t I want you guys to--?”

“Well, you certainly acted like it!” Roman snapped, and Virgil knew the Prince well enough by now to know he wasn’t angry, just stressed. “If you didn’t mind being touched, you wouldn’t act like we were trying to electrocute you every time we got too close!”

Patton reached up to put a hand on Roman’s arm, steadying him, but his gaze never left Virgil.

Virgil was starting to think this was all some kind of twisted dream his touch-starved mind had come up with, flipping everything around for the sole purpose of confusing him. This was...this was a joke, right? Some kind of excuse?

“What are you talking about?” he asked, ignoring how bad the tremble in his voice had gotten. “I didn’t...guys, it’s ok if you don’t want to touch me, I-I’m not gonna force you obviously, I just...never understood why it was a big deal. That’s all.”

Patton was shaking his head, hands moving to cover his mouth as Virgil spoke, and the moral side turned warily to Logan.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “We clearly could have...handled this differently. We’ve been purposely avoiding physical contact because based on your body language, we... I concluded that it made you uncomfortable.”

“It wasn't just you, Specs,” Roman said, his voice softer than when he’d been talking to Virgil. “We all clearly misunderstood. I- I still don’t quite...understand.”

The room was spinning, and Virgil did his best to blink away the dizziness washing over him, furiously wiping away a few stray tears that made their escape. He hoped no one noticed.

“I thought you just...didn’t want to. Because it’s...you know. Me.”

“Oh, kiddo.”

“What did I do?” he asked, suddenly terrified as to how he could have misread the situation so horribly for so long. “To...to make you guys think that?”

Logan blinked, his brow furrowing as he scrutinized Virgil from behind his glasses, and all three of them looked oddly confused by the question.

“I...Virgil, it’s been fairly easy to pick up on for some time now. Even before we learned your name.”

Patton frowned, taking a small step forward. “You got...really tense whenever someone would go to touch you, kiddo. Like you thought it was gonna hurt.”

“Earlier on, one of us moving like we planned on touching you would result in a flinch,” Logan added. “Later, as we got closer, we noticed you going very still. Like you were afraid. It wasn’t hard to avoid touching you before learning your name, but now…”

“We had to be more careful,” Roman jumped in. “Clearly that...wasn’t what you wanted.”

God Virgil was so stupid. This whole time he’d thought...for once he hadn’t even done anything wrong. And now all he’d managed to do was make everyone stressed and confused. He’d fucked everything up without even realizing.

They’d...they’d tried to touch him before? Before even learning his name? If he’d just been normal he could have avoided years of that cold, longing feeling settling in his chest?

He wondered if things would change now. Probably not, Virgil reasoned with himself, his throat tightening at the thought. He blew it. They’d just be upset with him now.

“I am...I am so sorry,” Logan said, and Virgil was having a difficult time following what was being said. “After getting to know you and your behavior patterns, I had concluded that your aversion to touch stemmed from sensory issues that can often relate to anxiety. Clearly, I should have asked you for confirmation.”

Logan sounded genuinely guilty, while Roman and Patton were looking at him softly. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d been wrong. They didn’t hate him, he’d just stupidly misunderstood their intentions.

But it was all cleared up now. It didn’t matter. He could suck it up and move on, just as long as he could keep the annoyingly persistent tears at bay for a little bit longer.

“It’s ok,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and hunching over himself when his breath caught in his throat. “It’s...i-it’s fine.”

God, he was so pathetic. He was pathetic. Why would anyone ever want to touch him?

“Obviously it’s not, sweetie.” Patton was suddenly in front of him, kneeling in front of the armchair. “We didn’t mean to hurt you, Virge, but it’s ok to be upset with us.”

Virgil shook his head, voice refusing to cooperate with his racing mind. He quickly wiped at the fresh tears, refusing to fall apart over something so stupid.

The next moment happened in a frantic blur, but everything clicked into place when it was over.

Patton carefully reached forward, moving to rest his hand on the anxious side’s knee, and Virgil’s heart squeezed in desperation and hope for the gentle, grounding touch he’d never been able to experience before.

His body ended up reacting differently, completely against his will. He tensed up completely, wide eyes locking onto Patton’s hand, his breathing stopping completely.

Patton noticed, of course. His face fell at the reaction, and he quickly pulled his hand away.

Oh. Virgil supposed it did look like he was scared rather than desperate. “S-sorry. I--”

“Don’t be sorry, kiddo,” Patton said, but he sounded hesitant. Disappointed. “It just...seems like you’re uncomfortable.”

“It’s...it’s not that,” Virgil managed. His voice was horribly unsteady, but he needed them all to understand that it wasn’t them- he was just too useless to control his own reactions. “I didn’t even realize I...I just have never had it before so I don’t...I don’t know how to--”

“Wait a second,” Roman said, Virgil quickly snapping his mouth shut. “What do you mean you’ve never had it?”

They were all staring at him, probably baffled and annoyed by his inconsistent rambling, and Virgil curled tighter in on himself, his cheeks burning.

“I...I’ve never, uhm…” He suddenly didn’t want to say it, all too aware of how little it mattered. This conversation should have been over a long time ago. “I’ve never been...you know. I-I’ve never...done it.”

Great, now it just sounded like he was speaking nonsense. But the others seemed to have some idea of what he was talking about, judging by the looks they were suddenly throwing each other. Roman was the only one who eventually spoke up.

“You- are you just talking about touch?” The Prince demanded, and Virgil shrank back. “Virgil, you’ve never been touched? At all?”

Virgil shrugged, dropping his gaze to his lap. “I mean, yeah. Not...not really. Other than, um, other than Patton hugging me today.”

But he’d seen Patton hug the others, and he knew what he’d gotten could barely count as one. Not that he had any right to complain. He’d be lucky if they didn’t shun him for the rest of his life after today.

“I’m sorry,” he said when the silence stretched on far too long to mean anything good. “I know, guys. I know it isn’t a big deal, I’m really really sorry for making it one, I just--”

“Virgil.” Patton’s voice came out more choked, more anguished than Virgil had expected, and then…

And then there was a hand on his face, cupping his cheek and brushing away the falling tears, and Virgil couldn’t breathe in the best way possible.

Patton’s hand was warm, enough to startle Virgil out of his spiraling panic for the moment, but his breath still hitched when he met the moral side’s watering gaze.

“Virgil,” he said again. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

Virgil blinked, still partly convinced this was a dream, heart racing in his chest. He couldn’t find his voice, eyes glued to Patton’s, but he managed a tiny nod.

It all happened so fast- suddenly Patton’s hands were wrapped around his own, pulling him off the chair and onto wobbling legs, and then he was being pulled forward...

Oh. Oh.

He fell against Patton’s chest, his head resting in the crook of the moral side’s neck, Virgil’s legs threatening to give out beneath him when Patton wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.

Virgil was sobbing before Patton even started rubbing circles on his back, rocking them both gently, hushing him softly.

He had no idea if he was doing this right, practically limp in Patton’s hold. His arms were just uselessly hanging there, hands wracked with violent tremors. But even if he did know what to do, he doubted he could force his body to move right now, only able to melt into the embrace as the living room filled with his miserable sobbing.

“Oh baby, it’s ok.” Patton was talking softly, his breath warm against Virgil’s ear, and he finally forced his hands to move up and clutch the other side’s shirt. “It’s ok, you’re ok. I’ve got you. We’ve all got you now. You’re alright.”

There was another hand cupping the back of his head, running fingers through his hair, and he caught a glimpse of Logan pressing up against them both. The movements of his fingers were slow and precise, burning Virgil’s freezing skin like the most pleasant fire, his words of reassurances lost to the sound of desperate cries.

And then Roman was there too, briefly meeting Virgil’s eyes with a sad but hopeful smile, suddenly moving around to join in and hug Virgil from behind.

He quickly realized that this, as overwhelming as it was for his first time, was the single best feeling in the entire world. He was certain that he would crash to the ground in a trembling heap if the others weren’t supporting his weight.

Virgil had never felt so warm. The brief hug in the kitchen had been nothing compared to this. He couldn’t stop shaking despite it, overwhelmed and so, so relieved, wanting nothing more than to melt into the embrace and never let go. He could stay here forever, wrapped up in safety and warmth, the rest of the cold, lonely world forgotten.

But eventually he cried himself out, sobs dying down to hiccuping gasps as he fought to get a hold of his breathing. Patton and Roman loosened their grip, Logan’s fingers slowing, but none of them pulled away just yet.

Virgil took in a shuddering breath. “I’m s- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Patton said. “You don’t need to be sorry for a thing, kiddo.”

He clutched Patton’s shirt tighter, sucking in a breath when Roman moved to put a hand over his fist. “I- I thought y-you...you all--”

“We should have asked,” Patton said, pulling back enough to see Virgil’s face. “We should have realized you were hurting, honey. That’s our fault.”

“Not yours, Virge,” Roman agreed, leaning forward slightly to press his forehead against Virgil’s temple. “I can’t even imagine how isolated we must have made you feel. But that’s over now. We can fix this. We will fix this.”

“I do want to offer my sincere apologies,” Logan said. “We had all misread the behavior, but I was the one who enforced it after learning your name. I should never have jumped to conclusions so quickly.”

Virgil tried to shrug, but it quickly proved to be impossible with how tightly he was pressed against the others. He didn’t mind at all.

He wasn’t ready to let go yet, despite the way his stomach twisted at the guilt Logan didn’t deserve to be feeling, a dark part of his mind whispering that once he pulled away, the warmth would never come back.

“It’s ok,” he said, voice still raw and hoarse. “It was just a s-stupid misunderstanding, right? I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up, I- I know it’s not a big deal. It’s just a hug.”

It was a lie and they all knew it. Silly as it was, it meant the world to him. He would do just about anything to make this feeling last forever.

“Virgil, no.”

Patton was moving away, and Virgil felt a rush of blinding panic before Logan suddenly took his place, holding Virgil’s face in his hands, eyes wide and intense. Patton didn’t go far, his hand moving to clutch Virgil’s arm, and Roman only tightened his hold.

“It is not stupid, Virgil,” Logan said, tilting Virgil's chin up. “Not at all. I can assure you, it was far from an overreaction.”

“Logan--”

“Physical touch is essential for one’s mental health. Especially for those who experience heightened anxiety. I should have known... depriving you of any physical contact your entire life has left you incredibly touch starved, likely only worsening any symptoms you would naturally experience.”

Usually, Virgil found it fascinating listening to Logan, the way he so naturally took on a teaching position, spouting off information like he was reading from an invisible book.

Now, the dread and panic were clawing at his throat, and Virgil swallowed, forcing himself to speak. “Am I...am I hurting Thomas?”

The terror was overwhelming, doing all it could to convince him that the others would hate him, that Thomas would want him gone for good. But it didn’t last long, Logan shaking his head with an unbearably gentle expression.

“I am not talking about Thomas’s mental state.” He reached forward to brush away some of Virgil’s hair, looking oddly relieved when Virgil leaned into the touch. “I’m talking about yours.”

“Oh.”

Roman finally dropped his arms, but just like Patton he didn’t go anywhere, his chest still brushing Virgil’s back while he reached for one of his hands. Patton took his other one, both running gentle patterns over his knuckles with their thumbs.

Virgil felt like he was going to melt right here and now. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Since it seems you're comfortable with touch,” Logan said, and Virgil almost wanted to laugh. He was a little bit more than comfortable. “I’m hopeful we can undo any damage that has been caused. Tonight is already a good start.”

And that...that sounded amazing. It sounded more than amazing. It was all he’d wanted this whole time, years of bitter, icy cold loneliness already paling in comparison to the warmth and love he’d felt in the last ten minutes.

But...

“I...thank you. Thank you so much, but...I-I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t--”

“Kiddo,” Patton said. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop myself from hugging you?”

“All of us,” Roman added. “I’ve lost track of how many close calls I’ve had. I thought it was good you didn’t seem to notice how badly I wanted to, but...apparently not. But we love you, Virge. We love you so much.”

“We do!” Patton squeezed his hand. “We really, really do. You’re not forcing us into anything, kiddo. You’re family.”

Virgil kind of wanted to pinch himself to make absolutely sure this wasn’t a dream. But there was absolutely no way he could make up something this good.

“Ok,” he said, still wincing at how weak his voice sounded. “That’s...that’s good because I...I don’t think I could go back. Uh, to how it was. After...after all this. I-if this was just a one time thing, I don’t know what I’d do. And I know that’s dumb, this is literally my fault, but--”

“None of that,” Logan said, firm but not unkind, and Virgil fell silent. “This is far from a one time thing. I believe you’ll start having a hard time getting away from the hugs now.”

Virgil laughed, not really caring when it came out as more of a strangled sob. “I think I’m ok with that.”

“It’s still early,” Patton said. “You kiddos think we should take this to the couch? We can still watch some movies if you’re up to it, Virgil.”

As soon as he nodded, Virgil felt arms wrap around him again, one under his knees and one behind his back, lifting him up from the ground.

“Princey!” He wrapped his arms around Roman’s shoulders by instinct and froze, suddenly terrified he would be yelled at. But, he reminded himself, Roman was literally holding Virgil in his arms. Nobody found Virgil repulsive. “I can walk, dork.”

Roman grinned down at him, taking them both back towards the couch. Virgil found he really didn’t mind being carried when it ended up with him put down in the middle of the couch, still curled up in Prince’s hold with his head against Roman’s chest.

The others joined soon after, Patton grabbing the popcorn and sitting on Roman’s other side with his legs propped up on Virgil’s lap. Logan sat directly next to Virgil, his hand squeezing the anxious side’s shoulder before dropping his head to rest on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil shuddered, tensing against his will at the rush of sensations, but no one pulled away when he didn’t quite know how to reciprocate.

“Just relax now,” Roman said softly, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s hair while Patton got the movie started. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Virgil wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, only vaguely aware of himself drifting in and out of consciousness, still held safely by the others on the couch, an old familiar Disney movie playing in the background.

He thought his position might have been changed, but he still felt the rise and fall of Roman’s chest beneath his head, someone’s hand running gently through his hair.

For the first time, he felt safe upon waking up and let himself keep his eyes shut, breathing deeply.

“Is he asleep?” he heard Patton ask, the hand in his hair slowing for just a moment. “He really wore himself out today.”

“Indeed,” Logan agreed from somewhere nearby. “Not to mention a common side effect of touch starvation is difficulty sleeping, nightmares, stress, a lower sense of self worth, dep--”

“But he’ll be ok now,” Patton said, thankfully cutting off Logan’s worryingly accurate description. “He’s got us, and he’s my kiddo. He never has to feel that way again.”

“It will take some time. And eventually we will have to have a talk about consent and boundaries- I don’t ever want him feeling overwhelmed. But you are accurate, Patton. He has us now. He will be alright.”

Virgil had to force himself not to smile, not quite ready for this to end for the night. He knew eventually he’d have to head back to his room, but the thought of being alone again, even just for the night, was--

“I don’t want him to wake up alone,” Roman whispered, like he could read Virgil’s mind. “Is it alright if we stay here tonight?”

“Of course, kiddo.”

“I am perfectly comfortable where I am.”

True to their word, none of them seemed inclined to leave the comfort of the couch, the movie’s volume eventually turned down to a faded hum.

Virgil sighed, relaxed and content, letting himself smile as he fell back into the first truly restful sleep he’d had in a long time, followed closely by warmth and love.

[lebrookestore]

the one; l.ty

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader

Themes: exes! au, best friends to nothing, exes to nothing, college! ish au because they’re graduating, the angst is a very subtle type but its still pretty heavy

Warnings: unrequited love, heavy angst, mentions of kissing and food (ice cream)

Wc: 1.6k

Playlist: the 1 by taylor swift, closure by taylor swift, 2 kids by taemin, dancing after death by Matt Maeson

Authors note: this is a deleted scene from my fic, favorite crime! (which you should go read. please lmao but also because it will give this story even more context) i have altered it so it sort of works as a oneshot? Anyways, I hope you like it<3

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

~

When you’re younger, you’re told to live your life to the fullest, to enjoy your youth. You’re seen as naive and and wide eyed at the world around you. When you’re younger you’re allowed to make those stupid mistakes and mess up, because people look past them.

But some mistakes, everyone but yourself can look past. These type of mistakes could haunt you for the rest of your life with every little thing you do. The what ifs.

And when you’re young, even though you have so much of your life left to enjoy, you can’t ever go back and fix them. They were permanent, like a life long promise, or a tattoo inked into your skin. You would never be able to escape them, even if you moved on.

At age twenty one, standing in front of your full length mirror donning your graduation cape, you had already made one of these mistakes, and it weighed you down everyday, simply because the reminder of it all was just a window away.

You glanced through your window, seeing him there, doing the same thing as you were, trying to adjust his tie. If you hadn���t been so stupid, then the two of you would have been getting ready together, you would be the one tying his tie and he would be the one teasing you about how your your cap was too big for you.

You let a smile brief your lips, before looking away. Even though you were no longer staring at him, you knew exactly what he was, the image burned into your mind. Bleached blond hair still messy no matter how much he tried to tame it, his bright eyes that seemed to hold the universe and that intoxicating smile.

Your biggest mistake was falling in love with the boy who never loved you back.

And how you had fallen, hook, line and sinker for him. Taeyong was the object of your affections, your best friend- well former best friend. That was where your mistake came in.

You foolishly let it happen, a relationship of sorts with him. At first, it was everything you had ever wanted, but that slowly started turning into a nightmare you wanted to wake up from. Sometimes you still wonder if you’re in a nightmare.

The two of you worked so well together, because you had known each other since you were four. He knew all your flaws, had seen you at your worst and at your best. You would have never thought he would be the cause of one of your worst moments.

But Taeyong, he wasn’t in love with you, but rather, was infatuated. Infatuated with the idea of love and loving you. Once he figured that out, he did the right thing and told you, effectively breaking up with you.

You lost your best friend and lover all at once. It was painful being around him, because you were still in love with him. He had been your everything, and now you had nothing at all. He slipped through your fingers like sand on a beach.

You hadn’t talked to him since that night he told you the truth. You made an effort to not look at him through your window, because it would just break your heart more. You had never known what it was to be heartsick until you experienced it yourself, and extremely violently.

He didn’t push it either, giving you your space. And while this helped you heal, it also felt so wrong. From spending almost every moment together, to spending no time at all, your lives had completely changed.

For some, love was a breeze, it gave them a fuzzy warm feeling that they wanted to hold onto forever. For you, love hurt like a bitch.

You couldn’t help but think about what could have been, if he had actually loved you. Or if you never indulged in what you wanted and just stayed friends. Sometimes- no, all the time, you wished that had happened instead. You were fine with loving him quietly.

Another part of you, the more selfish part, wished he never realized he didn't love you. You would have been fine living that way, but that was only thinking about yourself. You deserved to know, and he deserves that freedom.

What if?

Falling into love is easy, especially with someone like Taeyong. He was the most beautiful guy you had ever seen, with the kindest heart you could think of. You had fallen when you were merely seventeen, still in high school.

No, it was the falling out of love part that was harder. After loving someone for as long as you had loved him, you couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. The sheer thought of it didn't make sense to you.

So what if you were still with him, what if you never lost him. What if he was still your best friend through thick and thin?

Snapping out of your thoughts, you made one last adjustment to your graduation cap and sighed, scanning yourself over in the mirror. Deeming yourself presentable, you walked out of your apartment, jogging down the stairs of the building and reaching the ground level.

You were hitching a ride with your friend Ryunjin, who was arguably the world's worst driver but you didn't really have a choice. If you did, you would be going with Taeyong, but well, that wasn't going time happen.

You yourself couldn't drive, simply because you were too scared of accidently killing someone. Taeyong had even tried to teach you how to drive when the two of you were dating, but it was discovered that you were probably even worse than Ryunjin.

A few traumatized minutes of the drive to campus later, you found yourself lost in a sea of students that were also graduating with you. Thankfully you had a few friends, but it was still pretty overwhelming.

The ceremony itself was a blur, of you were being completely honest. You saw your friends get called up on stage and receive their scrolls. Ryunjin flashes an awkward peace sign at the principal because she shook his hand, Ten did a happy dance after, and Renjun pretended to click a picture.

You saw Taeyong go up there and receive his scroll, a bright smile on his face, a smile you so loved. You clapped for him, a proud, yet bittersweet smile gracing your features.

And soon it was you up there, and after you had gotten your scroll and take your picture, it had literally turned blurry. You didn’t realize you were tearing up until a wave of emotions crashed over you. You had finally graduated, you were out of this place after four years.

You hated change, despised it even. Now you were thrust out into the world, gone was the familiarity of attending classes and parties with your friends. First you lost your best friend, now you’d probably lose most of your other friends. It wasn’t as if all of you were going to stay in the town, you had first hand experience of this when your friend Yeji graduated the year before and moved away.

You were so young, so naive and yet it felt as if you couldn’t hold on to a single moment long enough. How were you supposed to enjoy your youth then? You were slowly loosing everything.

Sucking in a deep breath, you composed yourself, a laugh escaping you when Ryunjin practically threw herself onto you in a hug of celebration. You quickly wiped your tears so no one saw them, smiling. 

Turning around to talk to another friend, your eyes met Taeyong’s. He was much further away from you, but you knew it was him, you’d always know him. He didn’t break the contact, a small smile appearing on his lips as me mouthed something.

‘I’m proud of you’

You mustered up the best smile you could, repeating the same things silently so that only he would know it. Pressing your lips together pacified, you once again accepted that it was over. You had accepted it so many times, but you had to keep reminding yourself.

With one last look in his direction, you raised your hand up, curling your fingers into a fist before bringing it down to your chest, right over your heart. His smile only grew as he gave you an affectionate wave. Best friends after all, you knew each other like the back of your hands.

And then everyone tossed their caps into the air, as cheers resounded through the hall. Laughter and chattering filled the area, and you knew it would be alright in the end. 

You accepted the fact that Taeyong would haunt all your what-ifs, even as you tried to move on. All the kisses at midnight and late night talks out on your adjoining roofs, the long drives and ice cream dates- it was a thing of the past.

And yes, it still hurt when you recalled all the beautiful things that had happened with your time with him, the way the two of you were so beautiful.

It simply wasn’t meant to be, even if you were still in love with him. Heck, you were sure you’d always be in love with Taeyong, a part of your heart would be reserved for him and him only, but it was time to let go. You weren’t okay right now, but you’d learn to be okay. 

Still, it would have been fun if he had been the one.

fin.

[cheegu3]

do you write for enhypen? if so i would love yandere profiles for them :)

this may be shit but keep in mind that I don’t stan enhypen so I watched music videos and every video of them I could find :p 💀

TW / Trigger Warning: yandere themes (aka abusive relationships, violence)

{ENHYPEN Yandere Profiles}

Sunghoon

yandere type: playful, protective

Possesiveness: 1000/100

Violent: 55/100

Danger: 20/100

I definitely got a playful vibe from him (soo cute). So to pinpoint what yandere he would be is difficult. I think he would be chill with you but he is protective and have very strong opinions. He isn’t afraid to be disliked by others, if it meant you were safe in his arms. Aka, if someone is mean to you, he will not hesitate to beat their ass. A few times, he has lost his temper to people who have treated you bad in one way or another, but you are trying to help him avoid that again.

‘’ Sunghoon stop! that’s enough ‘‘ you screamed.

Yes you hated your bully from school, but now when you looked down at her you couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. If anyone saw the girl now, they wouldn’t be able to recognize her because of all the blood and cuts on her face and body. If you hadn’t gotten there in time..he might have killed her. The look on his face when he turns around and casually smiles as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong, still chills you to the bone today.

Jake

yandere type: sweetheart + manipulative

Possesiveness: 80/100

Violent: 30/100

Danger: 95/100

Not the most violent or dangerous one in ENHYPEN. But he is restless and impatient. He will let a lot of things you do or say slip through just because he can’t be bothered, all he wants after all is your love and acceptance. He thinks that keeping you happy, is the best way to keep you loving him. So in conclusion, pretty much a sweetheart. He is very jealous and possesive though, he wants you all to himself but tries to hide this from you. Similar to Sunghoon his possesiveness may make him violent in terms of other people, but never to you. He wouldn’t dare hurt you, even when he hurts your feelings he feels terrible...or does he?

‘’ Jake, it’s okay i’ve already told you it wasn’t that bad ‘‘ you said and consoled your crying boyfriend who was sitting on the floor.

‘’ I..I hurt your feelings ‘‘ he sniffled in response.

Your heart broke, this always happened. You thought his heart was too big. What you didn’t see was his satisfied smirk as you burrowed your head in his neck for a big embrace.

Heesung

yandere type: controlling

Possesiveness: 80/100

Violent: 90/100

Danger: 78/100

He is a scary, veryyyy serious man who will not hesitate to do what he thinks is necessary. He will control you in every way he can, hoping that you one day will love him for who he truly was. You might think he is a sweetheart when you meet him, because at first he didn’t have any rules for you. He actually didn’t mean to become a yandere, it was his first relationship where he felt extremely possesive and jealous. He loved you so much, no one could ever have you.

‘’ I’m going out with my friends now, to the club babe, see ya ‘‘

‘’ Stop ‘‘ he said suddenly in a low unrecognizable tone.

You turned around, not knowing that after today your relationship, and life would be completely different. He felt this burning rage inside him when he thought about you going to the club. You had been several times before, and the insecurity he was already dealing with started creeping up on him. Had you talked to other guys? Danced with them? Kissed them on your last trip to the club? He was getting paranoid, and had to do something about it, no matter what it took.

Sunoo

yandere type: clingy

Possessiveness: 30/100

Violent: 10/100

Danger: 5/100

He isn’t very dangerous, just dependent on you and extremely clingy, like to the point where you find it annoying. He can’t go one second without you, following you around like a lost puppy. If you’ve chosen Sunoo, you are probably more of a dominant type in a relationship and love cute boys. He is very submissive and will,like Jake, do anything to make you happy. If you deny him affection or push him away he may become more yandere and use methods like Jake, pretending to cry etc.

‘’ Suno, I have to go to school, you need to let me go ‘‘

He pouted in response.

‘’ No, take me with you if you have to. I’m not going anywhere ‘‘

Yep you 100% ended up bringing him to school beacuse he would not give up. He sat there the entire class just staring at you in awe. 

Ni-ki

yandere type: harmless

Possessiveness: 10/100

Violent: -100/100

Danger: 1/100

Pleaseee he’s so young and doesn’t give of yandere vibes at all. Too sweet, let me tell you he WILL treat you like a princess/prince. Even if you are someone who might not like affection that much you can’t resist his little shy but adorable attempts at getting your attention or showing his love. It most likely started out with you having a crush on him and becoming his friend. He was really shy and soon started to develop a crush on you that only grew the more you hung out.

‘’ Ni-ki, I...have something to tell you ‘‘

His eyes widened.

‘’ What is it? ‘‘ he asked gently.

‘’ I’ve had a crush on you for a really long time now.. and - ‘‘

He didn’t hear the rest because he was already blushing like crazy and thinking about you, that’s all he ever could do. What was he gonna say? He felt awkward but he wanted to kiss you so bad right now.

‘’ I like you too y/n ‘‘

EDIT: yo nvm he’s scary asf, will learn from his band mates and grow up to become a violent Yandere 😀💀 in the meantime you have this sweetie tho

Jay

yandere type: dangerous!!

Possessiveness: 99/100

Violence: 1000/100

Danger: 10000000/100

First time I saw him dance I was like oop, terrifying. A dangerous yandere that you should at all costs stay away from. If you fall for him, rip. He is cruel, loves torturing people, aka sadist not only in the bedroom but he murders people for FUN. Loves to see people cry because of him and realized this when he started bullying people in middle school. He wants to break you to the point where you are barely alive, and depend on him for any source of survival basically.

“ Jay, please, stop “ you cried out.

He had been punishing you for an hour straight, only because he had been having a bad day at work and was stressed. You were always his punching bag.

“ I’m not done yet princess, lay still “ he answered in a monotone voice.

Jungwon

yandere type: classic

Possessiveness: 50/100

Violent: 70/100

Danger: 50/50

Jungwon is definitely a classic yandere type. The first thing that comes to mind when you think about yandere is him. He won’t be very dangerous it’s a 50/50, that is if you behave. He does feel bad for hurting you but won’t hesitate to do it, to teach you a lesson. Every time you lie to him or disappoint him, his punishments will get worse because he has zero tolerance for misbehaving and disrespecting him.

‘’ So let me get this straight. You accepted his follow request even though I said you shouldn’t? ‘‘

‘’ Jungwon, he’s an old friend of mine ‘‘

‘’ Go downstairs and wait for me in the basement. I don’t wanna hear it ‘‘

[citydreamgrls]

yes, captain

fred weasley x fem!reader

words: 2,675

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on ‘a christmas treat’ it’s been crazy how many of you enjoyed it <333

warnings: smut , 18+ 

“What do you mean he’s sick?” The twins cried out in unison. I had heard voices before I’d reached the common room, but seeing them shocked wasn’t what I had been expecting. In fact it was a rarity to see them surprised at all.

“What’s up?” I asked them both, just as Lee was leaving. George had his head in his hands and Fred’s lip was blatantly chewed up.

“Wood’s sick, he’s off for 2 weeks.” He explained.

“Oh shit, that’s not good. So does that mean you two ar-”

“Co-captains.” They groaned in unison, used to having people follow them but not usually having to be in charge of anyone.

I put my arms around Fred, who was still in his quidditch uniform from practice, and gave him a much needed hug.

“You guys will be great, I’m sure of it.” I promised the twins, letting them clean up before dinner.

-

“So… how does it feel to have a boyfriend who’s the quidditch captain.” Hermione teased me, finding this to be more interesting than her book of all things.

“Fred’s co-captain, remember, and besides they only found out today.”

Harry came and sat in front of us with Ron as his side, who was more bothered by his food than his older brothers.

“I think they’ll be great captains,” Harry said, excited to have the troublemakers taking charge.

“Well of course you’d say that,” Hermione scoffed, opening her book again.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Ron looked up, clearing his throat as though to speak but the girl beside me cut him off before he had the chance.

“Harry’s the team’s seeker, he just has to do his job. That’s easy. It’s the chasers that cause trouble, they’re always squabbling over who goes where and how many goals each of them scores.”

“Yeah, what Hermione said.” Ron rolled his eyes and carried on eating.

“Guess we’ll see tomorrow afternoon eh?” Harry sighed.

“Do you think you guys will be ready for the match against Ravenclaw?” I asked.

“Hard to tell, we’ve got some time… but we’re out of a keeper now Wood’s off sick.” He huffed.

Just on cue both Fred and George turned up, looking as confident as ever as people congratulated them on their temporary promotion. Fred sat down beside me, giving me a kiss quickly before any of the others could complain.

“Ron, we need you to be our keeper.” George told his younger brother without hesitating.

Poor boy almost choked on a mouthful of potato when he realised what the twin had told him. Harry had to slap his back to get him to look alive again, making Hermione giggle from behind her book.

“Me!”

“Yes you, come to practice tomorrow and we’ll see if you’re any good.” Fred added, giving my hand a squeeze under the table.

-

“So I guess this means you’ll be too busy with captain duties,” I teased Fred as he tried to write an essay on the common room sofa.

“Oh yes, too busy for girlfriends. Especially when I have so many.”

I rolled my eyes and mindlessly played with his long hair.

“You don’t have the energy for too many girlfriends, me and George are enough for you.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He closed his potions book with a sigh and threw it to his feet, finally able to relax a little bit and lay with his head in my lap.

“Are you nervous Fred?”

“About what?”

“About being captain silly, you do have a practice tomorrow remember?”

“Oh no it slipped my mind, because I really have so much more going on right now.” He huffed sarcastically.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” I laughed and he nodded sheepishly. “It’ll be fine, I said I’d help Ginny with some homework tomorrow though so I can’t come and watch.”

“That’s actually a bit of a relief, I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of you.” Fred sighed.

“You’re the most confident person I know, not to mention the goofiest. When have you ever been worried about embarrassing yourself?” I pointed out, and he couldn’t help but agree.

-

The next day, after practice, the team filed into the common room kinda quietly. Making both Hermione and I frown at their sudden gloomy nature.

Fred and George were last and stopped at the two of us leaning up at them on the sofa.

“How was it?” I asked, still hopeful.

“Pretty bad,” George grunted before kicking off his boots and flopping into an armchair.

“Two of the chasers got into a fight and targeted each other any time we tried to play, it was useless!” Fred exclaimed as I played with his quidditch robes.

“Told you so.” Hermione hissed, but I just ignored her.

“They’re bound to be a bit unruly, it’s probably because they’re used to Wood.” I tried to reason with them, but neither twin seemed convinced by my theory. “It’ll get better.” I whispered to Fred.

-

It could’ve been possible that I cursed it, because things seemed to spiral from then on. Ron had doubts about being a keeper, Harry was always turning up to practices late and leaving early. The chasers refused to talk to one another, and things just took a turn for the worse when the twins started to argue over how to fix things.

It was 3 days before the match and the team was more divided than ever before. Making Fred feel responsible for the downfall.

“It was two weeks, that was it. And I couldn’t even control things for one day!” He complained aloud as I sat on his bed, hoping he would chill out a bit. I opened my arms, letting him crawl into them as if he was a child.

“I’m helpless y/n.” He huffed.

“No you’re not.” George walked in, saw his brother and immediately went to walk back out. They had been avoiding each other ever since their argument, and it was time for things to go back to normal.

“Oi stop right there.” Both boys froze as I spoke, I moved Fred off me and stood up. Not that it was intimidating to either of them, but it was worth a try. “You two need to forget whatever you were mad about and forgive each other, because nothing’s gonna go right if neither of you can agree.” I stated, their heads hung in the realisation that what I was saying was right.

“If we did things my way we could actually win.” Fred grumbled from his bed.

“I don’t care,” George seemed caught off guard that I wouldn’t immediately take my boyfriend’s side. “If you did win, it wouldn’t feel as good than if you did it together.”

“She’s right.” The boy by the door finally spoke up, holding a hand out to his brother. Fred shook it with an awkward smile. “Sorry Georgie.”

“Now. let’s figure out what to do with this team.” I sighed.

-

After a whole night of negotiating, Fred and George settled on a game plan and went to the last practice with hope in their hearts. Hermione  and y/n watched them fly about from the stands, unable to hear the boys talk, but unable to spot any problems as they played through the upcoming match.

Once it was over Fred came straight over to y/n. He was grinning wider than she’d seen all month.

“Better?” She laughed.

“So much better.”

-

“I like seeing you happy,” The girl told her boyfriend later that night, promising not to keep him up too late. They needed to be awake early of course. Her and Fred were standing at the top of the astronomy tower looking over the grounds as the sun went down.

“Thank you for helping us,” He whispered. He loomed behind her and rested his arms on the balcony in front of her, caging her in.

“Yeah well you owe me, big time.”

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll get a reward.” He smirked, making a chill run down her spine.

They’d had sex before, plenty of times, and many after winning games. But something more rested on this game, if he won there would be an even bigger feeling of achievement for the boy. Who was usually quite happy to take sidelines as one of the two beaters in the team. Now, he was a captain and it would look good if he won.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asked y/n.

“I shouldn’t distract you, rest is the only thing you need Fred.”

“It’s not what I want though,” She felt his body press up against her and she wondered whether getting fucked by him up there would be all that bad. However, she decided to wait, knowing it would be even better after they won.

“Fred. I’ll see you in the morning okay?” y/n smiled and slipped out from under his trap, giving his cheek a kiss and running off.

“Oi, that’s not a proper goodnight. Come back here!” He called out with laughter, a chase beginning on the twisting steps back down to the castle.

-

Hermione always claimed she couldn’t care less about quidditch, but as soon as she saw Ron as Gryffindor’s keeper she suddenly became yet another teenage girl screaming his name in support. Y/n laughed, seeing her friend switch up so quickly.

Then again, her voice always went hoarse after cheering on Fred and George so violently it sometimes felt like she’d never talk again. But she would never do it differently. Seeing the twins in their captain’s robes made her heart swell with pride, especially when Fred flew past their stand to give her a wink like he did before every game. It was practically tradition by this point.

“Go Fred!!!!” She screamed as he swung his bat around, sending bludgers flying through the air and towards Ravenclaw’s chasers. One of them almost fell to the ground trying to dodge it, and in turn losing possession of the quaffle to the Gryffindor chasers who had finally learnt to work together. They flew in formation, passing the ball between one another to throw off the other team. Then as one of them went to score, the other two held off opposing beaters so they could score.

To Hermione’s joy; Ron was amazing. He barely let a single goal in, kicking them off and thwacking them away with his broom. After a while he began to show off, but no one minded because he still managed to defend the goal.

Fred and George were working their asses off trying to hit off bludgers, not stopping for a single second to notice what else was going on. Y/n could watch her boyfriend work like that all day, his face laced with determination and joy whenever he hit one off successfully. Even more so whenever they scored another goal. Ravenclaw had never had a chance against them.

The match ended as always, with Harry just about catching the snitch before the other team’s seeker got there. He flew down to find the team hugging one another in joy, the rest of Gryffindor house racing from the stands to join the celebration. It wasn’t long before Fred and George were carried back to the common room, their names being chanted like gods.

Y/n caught a flash of her boyfriend’s red hair disappearing into the crowd as her and Hermione followed the flow of people into the castle.

-

“There you are!” Fred had called, finally finding y/n amongst the people partying later that night. “Thought you’d sacked me off.”

“As if, you’re the winning captain now I’m basically a celebrity by default!” She joked, taking the drink from his hand and sipping it hesitantly.

“Oi, what was that for?” He complained.

“I don’t trust my own drinks round you and George.”

“You’ve learnt then,”

“Yep, the hard way.” He smirked at my words and pulled me aside to talk quietly.

“Speaking of hard things, I’m on an absolute power high and really need you.” He said, never one to beat around the bush, well they’d done it once in a bush.

“Give me 10 minutes,” she told him.

“I’ll be waiting in the secret hallway, near potions?” y/n nodded and Fred disappeared off to wait for her, hoping no one would stop him on his way there.

Y/n went up to her dorm room, quickly knocking back a few shots before fixing her makeup and making her hair look less flat. Hermione saw her sneak through the common room and sent her a wink, making the girl blush as she slipped out into the main castle.

It was a Saturday night, and everyone would be gathered in their common rooms by now if there wasn’t already a party going on, so the castle was quiet as she walked through it. Footsteps sounded from somewhere in front of her. The girl slipped inside the transfiguration class, keeping the door just ajar to see filch walk past. Seconds past before she ran back out and straight to the secret passageway her and Fred had discovered a few months prior.

“Fred?” She called out quietly, not able to see him yet. He came out of the shadows with a smirk on his face and rested on the cold stone wall.

“Hello beautiful.” He said, as she took no time to jump on him. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, immediately enthralled in his kiss and the slight taste of licorice that seemed to constantly linger on his tongue.

“It’s been so- so hard not to just come f-fuck you right away,” She moaned admittedly between breaths, struggling to speak over the sheer lust coursing through her body.

Fred’s hands played across her neck, rough as always from the cold air, and travelled across her body. He didn’t dare waste time taking off clothes, and grabbed her waist to push her away. She gasped at the sudden lack of touch, but obeyed his every move as the boy laid himself down on the cold steps. Y/n knew what to do. Fred pulled out his cock as she took off her panties from beneath her skirt. She straddled his lap, letting him slip inside her.

In that moment, as their heads were involuntarily thrown back, both groaned out with immense pleasure. Y/n knew how cocky Fred would get after a quidditch win, this position being their own kind of celebration. But there was something different about the boy this time.

He was pounding harder, and deeper, and encouraging the girl’s sweet moans every time one slipped from between her beautiful lips. She could feel his grip, tighter than ever, leaving little finger sized bruises on her hips as she rocked back and forth.

The sheer size of his cock inside her made y/n tense up, Fred having no choice but to speed up.

She screamed, suddenly very appreciative of the passageways seclusion, her chest heaving as the girl had to take a second to adjust to the growing desire in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re close aren’t you?” Fred laughed, revelling in how good he was making her feel. Y/n could only nod in response, her lip tight in her teeth. The boy laughed again, but she could never feel nervous around him.

A hand came up to her neck, she felt it first before she saw it. He clenched the sides with his long fingers as y/n gasped out. He watched her moan lightly, almost begging incoherently as he got her closer and closer.

One last push with his hand made the girl scream, her pussy tighter than he’d ever felt it before. The boy struggled to hold back much longer, pushing her off so he could cum.

“Fuck,” Fred groaned.

“Please, promise me one thing.” Y/n asked, making her boyfriend frown.

“What?”

“Never let anyone else be captain again,” She gasped, still worn out from how ruthless he’d been with her.

[yandere-sins]

Hey there^^ Haven't done a request for quite a while but I'm pretty stuck myself and I could really use something to lift my mood, too, and your writing always does that :) So, I thought of Satan or Lucifer with prompt 3 and 34, maybe? If it's not too much it'd be nice if the reader could be rather anxious (my anxiety is really acting up these days .-.) but that's not that important

Have a nice day and stay healthy ^^

Blue

Hi Blue! Thank you for requesting ^-^ I decided to do some Satan bc I have another Lucifer request and this way we can have some variety :D Please enjoy! ^-^

Pills - “Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

Stickers - “One more time. I’m giving you one more chance to stop fucking resisting.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

“Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy, right?”

His demand sounded reasonable, and his voice was calm. Still, the hand clutching your thigh was too rough with your skin, the fingers digging into it painfully. Immediately, you stopped bopping your foot, a nervous habit you hadn’t even noticed you started.

How long had you been sitting in his lap for now? An hour? Two? It felt like the whole morning and was probably more like the entire day, but through the partially hidden window in Satan’s room, you couldn’t make out the time of day, even if the Devildom had varying daytime-lightning outside. But this way, you could only count the pages Satan had already read as any indications of time, even though it wasn’t a reliable source.

Clenching your fists on top of your legs, you wondered what else there was you could do. Perhaps it was one thing to read the day away, but it was an entirely different one when you were just the lapdog to someone doing it. Even if you showed interest in books, Satan preferred to keep you close to him, and unfortunately, his favorite reading chair didn’t allow two people to read comfortably. That, and the constant fear you might actually find something useful to slip out of his grip, made him decide that you could read only with him or not at all.

It was just a problem that the language of the book he was reading wasn’t one you could understand.

All you were reduced to was a stiff, anxious, warm body sitting on top of him, hoping that soon Satan would decide to do anything else. You couldn’t live with his suggestions of taking baths together or being left alone for hours to no end while he took care of daily business, but this was the third day in a row where things were simply... too calm.

You had been quick to cease bringing up arguments. Satan had scared you once when he grew angry before your life took this turn by his side. Still, it was nothing compared to the violent and oppressive force he used on you now when you acted ‘unsuitable’, as he called it. Part of you wanted nothing more than to scratch his face, bite and kick, but when you brought up the courage to stand up for yourself and your rights, his exuding magic alone made you crumble to your knees in primal, inferior fear, knowing all the bad things he would do to you if you pushed it any more than you already had.

Wherever he took the patience from, it was wearing thin regardless of its masses.

That, and that alone, was the reason you even listened to what he said.

Looking down at yourself, you might not have been able to see any bruises left on you, but you felt them in every flinching of your muscles. The soreness, the pain - they never disappeared, and Satan wasn’t going to help you forget by applying magic to heal them.

Instead, he caressed your thigh with his hand, fingers circling over your skin menacingly. Perhaps from an outside view, it looked almost sweet, but you felt nothing short of a warning from his touch. Every touch was calculated. A game. Maybe he truly wanted to help you calm, but you wouldn’t have put it past Satan to actually try and provoke you to do something stupid. It was his way of forgiving the bad things he did to you, much like an eye for an eye. He disapproved of many things, but he couldn’t quite justify his actions if you didn’t act up. Satan swore up and down that he preferred cats over dogs, but god beware you’d behave like one. Unknown sadistic tendencies seemed to ride him when it came to you, and from what you understood, you were his place of comfort and peace when you were in his arms and his punchbag if you made his days worse than they needed to be.

But arguably, you were just his; all he needed, either way.

Worse thoughts crossed your mind than this. Ideas of how similar he was to Lucifer when it came to oppressing, but you would have taken the eldest brother’s help without even a moment of hesitation. At the same time, you wanted nothing more than to get away from Satan. 

Encountering a sudden change of mood was what you feared the most. It happened too often. Satan wasn’t that hard to please, but he unexpectedly and sharply changed moods for no apparent reasons, just like a teenager.

What if he read a passage in his book he disliked? What if your foot began to bop again? What if your breathing was too loud? What if he decided you were too heavy... When would it stop? When would the worries finally go away?

He loved you. He told you he loved you, so why were you a prisoner in his room? Why did he refuse to let you go? See other people? Sleep in your own bed for a change? And why was he enraged every time such a wish crossed your mind?

The book in his hand lowered as you sunk deeper and deeper into your panicked thoughts, wondering what you should do from now on to stay on his good side and maybe regain your privileges. So many emotions fogged your senses; you didn’t even hear him take a deep breath as his eyes narrowed while they focused on your leg, nervously bopping up and down again.

However, you did notice the sudden jerk as he threw you off his lap, pain shooting through your body as you scrapped your knees on the floor. You hit the stacks of books Satan threw you into, hardcovers falling down on you, making you yelp as they felt like bombs raining down onto your body.

“What’s the matter this time?” he asked, standing up and closing the book. It took a lot of courage to look up at him, Satan’s pretty face and perfect posture as intimidating as the waspish shine in his deep green eyes. You perceived it as cold and belittling as he looked down on you, standing over your legs.

“I want to go home--” you whispered, close to tears as you averted your eyes from his, unable to look at him when he glared back at you so resentfully.

“[Name],” he called out to you in the most condescending way you could imagine someone speaking your name. However, you no longer could bear looking him in the eyes, and so, you let your head hang low, expecting the worst but hoping it was over soon.

“How long will you keep complaining. I was so good to you the last few days, wasn’t I? It’s all because you said you were unhappy with me, so I bettered myself, yet, you behave just the same. When will you realize this is home?”

Hearing this from him, you felt your heart break. Hearing that this dangerous, painful situation should be a norm and comfort for you made you want to throw up. But at the same time, it rose your spirits, and before you knew it, you were back on your wobbling feet, the pain being suppressed by adrenaline as you grabbed Satan by the collar. In retrospect, you realized you had been just like a frightened animal and snapped as he came too close for comfort.

“THIS ISN’T MY HOME! YOU ARE KEEPING ME HERE AGAINST MY WILL! WAKE UP, SATAN!” you screamed at him as loud as you could. Perhaps you wished for a stunned realization overcoming him, or maybe that someone else could hear you outside this little, private room. But it wasn’t like anyone came running to help anyway.

Instant regret flooded your mind as you felt his hands grip your wrists, the book he had held onto falling to the ground with a loud thud. A zip of magic sparked from where he grabbed you, burning through your body like venom. It was no question who was the stronger animal in this struggle, your body falling back and down into the pile of books with just one step Satan took forward. But with your hands still anchored in his clothes, you pulled him with you, and on top, giving him a chance to pin you down on the uncomfortable bed of books.

Though it felt like your bones were breaking under the pressure and awkward position, your will hadn’t been affected as much yet, your body instinctively pushing against him, even though it was futile.

“One more time. I’m giving you one more chance to stop fucking resisting.” The words escaped him through clenched teeth, a hostile fire flickering in his eyes that you were forced to stare into. You knew you had it coming for you. His rage. His anger. There was no way out now, and once again, you had made the situation worse for you than needed. Finally, as you felt your ragged breath fill your lungs unreliably, you calmed down, tears shooting to your eyes while the sobs escaped from your mouth.

For a minute or two Satan merely let you bawl it out, the streams of tears falling down your cheeks and onto the books beneath you, but it was of no concern to either of you. At least now, he didn’t tell you to cease your sadness too, and you realized all he wanted was for you to stop attacking him, even if it was unfair when he apparently was allowed to.

Instead, you found yourself being scooped into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder as you hugged him instinctively. His hold was right out of a book about how to console crying children, his hands perfectly falling to your head and back, calmingly rubbing over the hurt part of your body.

“Please...” you sobbed into his shirt.

“I love you. I will always love you, even if you do this to me,” he assured you. You didn’t want it. Not his love, not being held by him like this, not him playing the victim in this scenario. As if it was your fault he had to do these terrible things.

“Just... please...”

“Forever. We will stay together.”

His words did nothing to help you, even more crying ensuring as they laid down heavily on your mind.

“You’re all I have. All that only belongs to me,” Satan whispered while you shook your head softly, rubbing in the wet stains into his clothes and wishing it was all just a nightmare that you could wake up from.

“That’s why, from now on, I will be the only one for you as well.”

But you never woke up from it.

[You can find the prompt list here]

[obiwanobi]

I was asked to write angst with a happy ending for the Sith Senator Kenobi AU where Obi-Wan believes Anakin has been killed during a mission, so here’s 2.6k of sadness featuring Obi-Wan and Ahsoka before I finish the happy ending part: 

Ahsoka can only remember a few details from the funeral of her master.

In her mind, the memory has the fuzziness of an unpleasant dream, and not the sharpness of an event that happened only yesterday. 

Surprisingly, it was Master Windu who led the ceremony with a gentle voice.  Master Yoda gave a speech, but she can't recall a word of it.  She remembers Senator Amidala trying to blink away her tears.  She remembers Master Jinn's heavy hand on her shoulder when the heat of the flames started to warm her face. She remembers Rex, still as a statue from beginning to end. She remembers Senator Kenobi being the first to leave without a word. 

It took four hours for the pyre to burn to ashes. 

___________________________________

"Oh. Hello, young one." 

Senator Kenobi's tone is surprised, but his face is as impassive as ever.

It reminds her of that one time her master said that he would have made an excellent Jedi, and Kenobi immediately proved him wrong, dramatically grimacing at the thought and making Anakin burst into laughter. 

There's no grimace on Kenobi's face right now. His hair and beard are perfectly combed and trimmed, and there isn't one wrinkle on his pristine clothes.  

It makes the deep shadows under his eyes stand out even more. 

"Senator," Ahsoka greets him with a polite bow. "Would you mind if I come in?" 

Kenobi blinks twice before taking a step back. "Please."

She walks into his apartment a bit rigidly, hands clutched around the box she brought, and seats on the couch he points at her. 

If he knew she was here, Master Jinn would disapprove. Her grandmaster has never liked the senator, partially due to his charming public persona which only echoes in a bizarre void in the Force —"some plants are easier to detect that him", she once heard Master Jinn say,— and partially because of his close relationship with her master. 

Ahsoka herself has never known what to make of Senator Kenobi.

Stuck between pretending to ignore the looks he used to share with her master and making sarcastic remarks about it to fluster them both, it now leaves her in an awkward relationship she can't define without mourning for the missing link between them.

Anxiety starts nagging at her as she looks at the box in her hands. Maybe she should have waited. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

"Caf? Tea?" Kenobi asks from the kitchen. 

"Whatever you're having is fine, thanks." 

She hears the cabinet doors opening and closing, water boiling for a few seconds, and then the senator comes back with a teapot and cups on a tray. "I hope you like black tea, then. I never drink caf." 

Ahsoka isn't sure if she's more surprised by a senator not having any personal employee to assist him, or the fact that she can clearly see what looks like a very expansive caf machine on the kitchen counter. 

"How did you know where to find me?" 

"I commed your office first," she admits, refocusing her attention on him. "Your assistant said you were working from home lately, and gave me your address."

Kenobi raises his eyebrows. "She did? Well, that's a surprise. She usually bites people who try to see me without an appointment or a life-or-death crisis. Preferably one with multiple dead people already." 

"Hum, yes, she— She almost brushed me off, but then I told her that I needed to give you something. From my master." 

To his credit, Kenobi, teapot in hand, freezes for only half a second. Then, pointedly not looking at her, starts pouring tea again. 

On the comm, Kenobi's assistant also paused when Ahsoka told her that, before grumbling 'it can't make it worse anyway' and then giving strict instructions about when was the best time to come see him. 

"I see."

She puts the box next to her steaming cup, and stops her hand just before opening it. "There were some... important chips and datapads from previous and ongoing missions that he had in his room, and I was the one who looked for it. So I cleaned a few drawers."

Letting someone else disturbs Anakin's bedroom has felt wrong. Even if she knows that it was only selfishness that pushed her to volunteer to look through his room, she's still glad she did.

No one needs to know how long she spent seating in the middle of Anakin's bedroom, trying to wrap his lingering Force signature around her. Or that it took three hours before she could touch anything in it without feeling like she was breaking one last invisible connection to her master. 

"And I found this box." she taps on it lightly. "This is... I think— I think you should have it." 

"What’s in the box, Padawan Tano?" Kenobi asks behind his cup. 

The proof of my master's complete disregard for the Jedi Code, she wants to say. Ahsoka bites her lip.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter anymore. 

"Mostly datachips with holos on it, a few old tickets for a race, a password-protected datapad and some personal belongings."

"And what that has to do with me?" 

Ahsoka frowns. 

Kenobi doesn't sound like the conversation interests him. His hand moves, and for a second Ahsoka thinks he's going for the box, but instead, he takes the recipient filled with honey and put a small spoon of it in his cup before leaning back on the couch. 

His indifferent expression is starting to grate on her nerves. 

"I took a look at the holos. My master is on it, but you're also there. With him sometimes. Most of them are holoimages, but there are a few longer recordings with sound." Ahsoka has only watched one, but it's still hard to reconcile the man fondly rolling his eyes and telling Anakin behind the holocamera to please, dear, don't waste it on me, with the impassive man with the blank stare in front of her. "I didn't watch all of them, but I think it's safe to say that he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to find them."

"I see," Kenobi says distractingly, stirring his tea. 

Ahsoka's hand is starting to turn into a fist in her lap.

"Do you? Do you really? Do you know about the Jedi Code, Senator Kenobi?" She asks, suddenly opening the box herself and getting one of the datachips and a small holoprojector out.  

"I know enough." 

"Because this," she continues, pushing the chip in it and opening the first holos, "this isn't really approved by the Code. Do you know what the Code recommends, regarding attachment, Senator? To material things? To people?"

Did you love him? she wants to ask, as a holo of Anakin, dressed in light civilian clothes, smiles and makes a rapid 'come one' hand gesture to the person behind the camera. Did you love him as much as he did?  

She presses the next button rapidly, going through a few holos of sunbathed landscapes and olive trees, and then Anakin is holding a glass of wine in one, tasting it in a second, and making a ridiculous face in the third. There's a lot of Kenobi after that, also dressed in lighter clothes than usual, with shades on. Him trying to read a sign in a foreign language but clearly failing, him looking at some old and decrepit ruins in wonder, him with a face covered in sunscreen, sending an unamused look above his glasses at the camera.

Ahsoka's irritation makes her forget to be embarrassed when she goes through some of the holos where they're pressed against each other in such an intimate way that it feels like she's holding their honeymoon holoalbum, but it doesn't stop her from wanting to cry when she catches the tenderness in Anakin's eyes in every holo where he's looking at Kenobi.

It's only when she reaches the one taken at a weird angle where Anakin is lying in the shades of a tree, asleep, his face nuzzled against a red beard, that a hand stops her before she can keep pressing next.

She turns her head toward Kenobi, ready to push him again to get a reaction, but he’s not looking at her. His gaze is fixed on the holo and his face is making a bizarre expression she doesn't recognise. Then, he says, softly, "I told him not to keep any of it."

And then she gasps for air. 

The Force... the Force feels like a void.

Not a blank space, or the faint static she's used to next to Kenobi, but a true void. She chokes a bit on the emptiness of it all, almost sick to her stomach by the vertigo effect. It feels like she's standing near the edge of a hungry precipice, just like what she felt when Master Jinn told her that her master was dead, after she's stopped saying that it wasn't possible and he was wrong wrong wrong. She felt like falling then, endlessly falling and never hitting the ground, and she feels like falling now. Headfirst into the void. A long, endless fall through nothingness.

The void feels like it could swallow her whole and leaves nothing behind. No memory or emotion or connection. 

The void is lonely, and aching, and lonely.

And lonely.

And lonely. 

Then the sound of shattered porcelain resonates in a disturbing echo in her ears and everything stops. 

Ahsoka gasps again —did she stop breathing at one point?— and pants heavily, hands shaking on her thighs.

She violently throws herself against the couch, as if the void is still here at her feet, ready to devour her.  

"That's quite enough of that for now."

Disoriented, it takes a moment before she remembers where she is. Kenobi has already turned off the holoprojector and put it back in the box when she feels capable of forming coherent sentences again. A cup of tea is pushed under her nose, and she automatically takes it. It burns her tongue a bit. She's so glad to feel something so simple and physical that she keeps drinking it anyway. 

Kenobi is standing up now, napkins in hand but not moving. He's looking down at something, stuck still in an aborted move, and Ahsoka realises that there is an ugly stain on his tunic, right on his chest, and that fragments of porcelain are lying all over the floor around him.

She didn't see how Kenobi broke the teapot, but it must have been quite a fall to scatter all these hundreds of tiny little pieces around him. On the white rug at his feet, a large brown stain is expanding slowly but surely through the intricate design of the textile. 

He couldn't have made a bigger mess on purpose. 

"You shouldn't stay here," he tells her, but his eyes stay locked on the liquid still dripping from the edge of the table. "You could hurt yourself." 

"I— yes. Sorry." 

She doesn't know what she's apologising for. She's tense, unsettled, and doesn't dare reach through the Force to find any kind of balance. She doesn't understand what the kriff just happened, but she's not in the mood to look for answers right now.

She just wants to be home. She just wants her master. She just wants to sleep.  

Box under her arm, she takes a breath and stands up, careful not to walk on any fragments of broken porcelain.

"I should go anyway."

"Would you mind letting me see one last thing before you leave?" 

She blinks, surprised. "From... the box?" 

"Yes." 

She hesitates a second, still not sure if this was a mistake or not. But who else could she share it with?  

Kenobi seems like he's giving up on cleaning for now, and dries his hands with a napkin as he watches her put the box on the counter. He takes a moment to look inside this time, before grabbing the datapad and turning it on.

"It's password-protected," she says, just to break the tense silence. "I've tried a few things to bypass it but nothing works." 

"Why do you think it's about me, then?" 

"If you try enough wrong words, a message will pop up to give you a hint." Kenobi sends her a questioning look, but she just shrugs. "Try something. Anything."

"Oh," he says, voice suddenly soft, after putting Anakin's name and surname. "It says it's for my birthday." 

"Yep." 

"'Something that could make a politician cry'?", he reads out loud, intrigued. "What is he talking about? I told him enough times that politicians don't have souls, or—"

His mouth opens in a silent 'oh'. He turns to look at her pensively, and right when she's about to ask him if he's thinking of something, starts tapping on the keyboard. 

The pad beeps happily. 

"Of course," he whispers. "Of course." 

Ahsoka can see his fingers swiping on the pad a few times but she's not at the right angle to see what he's actually looking at.

It would have bothered earlier. Now, her head feels heavy and her mind clouded, and she just wants to go home. The only reason she's not leaving right now is the glint of something in Kenobi's eyes. 

Maybe it's just the reflection of the blue light on the screen. Maybe he's trying not to laugh in front of her at whatever her master had planned for his birthday. 

Maybe he's trying not to cry. 

He turns off the datapad suddenly, straightening up and offering a polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes. The glint is gone. 

"If this is alright with you, Padawan Tano, I would like to keep that box." 

You don’t deserve it, a voice in her mind says. 

But she knows that the box isn't for her. She's a Jedi, and these are just material possessions. Holoimages and a few useless trinkets.

Her master isn't in that box. Her master is in the Force, with her, always. 

She's not certain she should trust Kenobi, but her master did. So she chooses to believe. 

"Okay," she murmurs. "Just... just keep it safe." 

"I will." 

There is no way to know if he means it, but she's definitely not in the mood to reach through the Force and check right now.

"I should go." She turns towards the door, ready to go home and sleep for fourteen hours.  

"Ahsoka."

The surprise of hearing her name in his mouth for the first time stops her hand on the door handle. She's so tired that she barely turns her head sideways, waiting for whatever insipid parting words he will offer her.  

"Anakin was very proud of you. He couldn't stop talking about how great you were going to be as a knight."

Her heart misses a beat. Or three. 

Don't say his name, she wants to say, we managed to ignore it the entire time, why did you have to say his name? But her throat only seems to be able to produce an uncontrollable choked up sound. She can't blink fast enough to see through her tears.

After so long looking for a hint of human feelings in Kenobi, she almost wishes his voice wasn't so gentle right now.

"Please make sure to do all you can to make it true."

She only allows herself to cry once the door slams shut behind her. 

[happyandticklish]

Sensitive Exploration

Notes: For the anon who requested a Hazbin fic with Angel and Alastor discovering each other’s death spot. Sorry this took so long, I had to get myself back into the mindset of the characters. I hope you enjoy the result!

Summary: Alastor has a tradition of tickling the different members of the hotel, and one day Angel decides to get him back. 

“If you just tell me, this will be over faster you know.”

“F-Fahahahack yohohou!”

Angel Dust often wondered how so often he found himself on the receiving end of Alastor’s so-called “punishments”. It was a tradition he had started a while back, after he had poked Charlie in the side and she had squeaked in response. After Charlie had sheepishly explained her reaction to him, Alastor took it upon himself to fully test the sensitivity of everyone in the hotel, as he found the subject fascinating. Not that he wasn’t aware what tickling was, of course, but it had been a long time since he had encountered the concept in a real way. It became a habit that, whenever anyone in the hotel was feeling down or being particularly grumpy that day, Alastor would tickle them until they either smiled or learned their lesson.

Charlie had been his first target, of course, and by far one of the most willing recipients. Vaggie proved to be a challenge, and Alastor only braved her wrath a couple of times. Husk had protested, but once Alastor discovered that his wings were ticklish he had quickly crumpled under his devilish touch. Nifty was simply not ticklish, a discovery that disappointed both her and Alastor greatly.

That left only Angel Dust. By the time Alastor approached him, Angel had heard and seen the other’s experiences with the radio demon and was a begging mess of giggles before the other had even touched him.

Easily the most ticklish and the most cocky of the group, Angel was the most common recipient of Alastor’s whims of fancy. He could always tell when Alastor meant to tickle him, either by a certain gleam in his eyes or a smile that was slightly more slanted than usual. There was no use protesting, but Angel did so anyway, a nervous excitement bubbling up in his voice each time. Alastor would eventually back off, once he could see the other had had enough, but he made sure to give him the wrecking of a lifetime before then.

Currently, Alastor had tendrils wrapped around all six of Angel’s limbs, pinning each one to the wall. They were inside one of the hotel’s many guest rooms, as most were unused and Alastor had wanted their time to be interrupted. Alastor was currently scribbling fingers under the first pair of armpits, while four more tendrils attacked the rest. Angel was dying, helpless cackles and squeals breaking loose as he attempted to free himself from the other’s impossibly strong grip.

Alastor was on a mission that night. He had noticed while tickling the other residents that there was usually one spot on all of them that appeared far more sensitive than the rest of their body. However, whenever he was tickling Angel he tended to go all out and thus missed each particular reaction. Tonight, however, he planned to find the other’s so-called “death spot” and exploit it for all it was worth.

“Really, it’s only going to be worse if I have to find it myself,” Alastor commented briskly, switching between light scribbles over his armpits and digging in with his thumbs. The constant fluidity of the two methods seemed to be working wonders on the spider demon who was quickly in hysterics.

“I-I’m nohohot fuhuhucking tehehelling yohohou!” Angel spat, the venom torn from his voice as his words were followed by a flood of giggles. “D-Dohoho yohohour wohohorst!”

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “My, my. If I’m not mistaken, it almost seems like you want me to tickle you Angel. Is that the case? Hmm? Did I get it right?”

The blush flaming on Angel’s cheeks spoke louder than his words. “Shuhuhut uhuhup!”

“That’s not a denial.”

“Yohohour fahahace ihihisn’t ahaha dehehenial!”

“Clever comeback,” Alastor responded dryly. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll simply find it all on my own.” He inspected the other critically. “Now, as sensitive as your armpits appear to be, I don’t think it’s your worst spot. Do you agree?”

Angel shook his head through his laughter, though it wasn’t clear if he was denying or affirming the statement.

“I wonder… this spot always seemed to cause quite a reaction.” With a snap of his fingers the tentacles tormenting his armpits disappeared. Angel sagged, momentary relief filling him, but in the next instant hands were squeezing his hips and electricity shot up his spine. He let out a startled yelp, his struggling increasing tenfold as he fought to get Alastor away from the area.

“And my efforts reward me.” Alastor smiled smugly, kneading his fingers into the skin. “Could this be the foretold death spot?”

“Sure! Suhuhure, yehehep, dehehefinitely!” Angel agreed, eagerly nodding his head and twisting frantically away from the surge of ticklish sensations. “Juhuhust stahahahap!”

“Sure?” Alastor wrinkled his brow. “Well that’s not very convincing.”

“Yehehes ihit ihihihis, ehehehe, stahahaha—nohoho, ahaha, pfft!”

Alastor absently spidered nails over the skin of hips, trailing down towards his lower stomach, as he considered where else the spot could be. Angel slammed his head back against the wall in frustration, squirming wildly as a cascade of wheezy squeaks escaped him. In a desperate attempt to get him to stop, Angel kicked out one of legs suddenly, trying to push the other back. Unfortunately, his resistance gave Alastor an idea.

“Ah! Right. Thank you for reminding me Angel.” He caught the other’s leg in his grasp, wrapping an arm around his ankle and locking the limb in place. “I completely forget about those knees of yours. So silly of me.”

Angel’s groan at his own self-caused destruction was cut off by a shriek as Alastor squeezed the spot right above his kneecap that had always killed him in the past. Angel burst into cackles, his leg jerking violently in the other’s hold. “No, no, no, no, no, nohohohoho! Ahahahalastor!”

“Yes?”

“Ihihihi—pfft, ahahahaha, ehehe, gahahaha!”

“You must use your words, dear.” He gripped his calf, holding his leg taut and spidering his claws over the undersides of his knees. Angel squeaked, desperation rising in his movements. “I really can’t understand a thing you’re saying.”

Angel was quite possibly going to kill him after this. Or thank him. Or both.

“Well as fun as this spot is,” Alastor said, his touches featherlight and unbearable against Angel Dust’s skin. “I think there’s another place I have declined to include in this exploration. Do you know where it is?”

“D-Dohohon’t yohohou fuhuhuhucking dahahahare!”

“Whatever are you referring to?” Alastor asked innocently, but already his claws were creeping perilously close to the other’s trembling thighs.

“Y-Yohou knohow whahahat!” Angel squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable with nervous excitement. “Ahahahal, I’m whahaharning yahaha—shihiHIHIHIT!”

Angel shrieked, arching back against the wall as fingers prodded and spidered all over his thighs. He tugged desperately at each of his arms, his legs, babbling out incoherent nonsense in a useless attempt to get Alastor to stop.

“Bingo,” Alastor said, smirking.

“Fuhuhuhuck, fuhuhuck, fuhuhuhuhuhUHUHUHUhuhuhuck! StahahAHAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEASE!” Angel was losing his mind. His thighs had always been a kill zone, which was difficult in his line of work. Giggling in the middle of sex was not something most people were accustomed to. Not that he was particularly opposed to the combination of two of his favorite activities, but it was awkward giving out excuses afterwards. Now though, he was free to laugh and squirm all he wanted, which he did, energetically. “Ehehehe, ihihihit fuhuhuHUhucking tihihIHIHIHICKLES!”

“So it does,” Alastor exclaimed. “Astute observation. Well, I guess it’s good that you like it then.”

Angel grit his teeth, desperately wishing he wasn’t giggling like an absolute maniac so he could retain some semblance of dignity. “Yohohohou’re suhuhuhuhuhuch ahahaha dihihihick!”

“Language,” Alastor reminded him, squeezing a spot on his inner thigh that made Angel regret everything he’d ever done. “You wouldn’t want me to keep you like this forever.”

Angel’s eyes bugged out of his head at the thought as he fell into a whole new round of laughter.

As it was, he did not keep him forever but only for a couple more minutes before he finally released him. Angel let out a giggly sigh of relief, shakily supporting himself against the wall.

“That…” he panted, shooting him a glare. “Was completely uncalled for.”

“But Angel,” Alastor crooned in a way that altogether unfair. “How could I possibly resist tickling you when you look so cute laughing and helpless?”

Angel rolled his eyes, blaming the flush on his cheeks from his lack of breath. “Yeah, whatever. How would you like it if I pinned you down and tickled you whenever I felt like it?”

Angel may or may not have imagined the faint pink that tinged Alastor’s cheeks at the question. “Impossible,” he dismissed, waving a hand. “I’m not ticklish.”

“Bullshit,” Angel accused. “Everyone’s ticklish!”

Alastor shrugged. “Not me.”

“Fine then—prove it.”

“Prove it?” Alastor asked, arching an eyebrow. “And just how do you suppose I do that?”

Angel crossed his arms, leaning back confidently. “Let me tickle you.”

An unmistakable shudder made its way down Alastor’s spine at the proposition. In all fairness, even he wasn’t sure if he was lying or not. He hadn’t been tickled since he was still living, and not since he was a little boy at that. He was fairly certain he wasn’t ticklish, but there was no way of knowing for sure.

“Fine,” he said at last, calmly raising his arms above his head as though the position didn’t instantly fill him with a sense of debilitating vulnerability. “Go ahead.”

Angel had not expected the dare to work, and so was unreasonably excited at the scenario they now found themselves in. He stepped forward, placing four hands on his sides, the remaining two hanging limp by his sides and waiting for the right oppurtunity. Without any kind of prologue, Angel started quickly wiggling all twenty of his fingers against his sides and the result was glorious.

Alastor, who had not accounted for the amount of hands set against him, was overwhelmed by how unbelievably wrong he had been. He squeaked, bursting into a round of sudden giggles and attempting to somehow squirm away from the other’s touch while also not pulling his arms down or shoving him off.

“Holy shit,” Angel muttered, delight coloring his words. “You’re ticklish. This is amazing.”

“Ahahahahahaha, wahahahait, Ahahahangel! Ihihit feheheheels weheheheird!” Alastor protested, arms trembling above his head. He had completely forgotten how conflicting tickling felt, having not experienced in such a long time. A fluttery, unbearable sensation, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to rub the feeling away or have it last forever. It was truly a conundrum.

“Of course it feels weird,” Angel agreed, shaking his head incredulously. “It fucking tickles. But you know, I’m starting to feel like I can’t trust you to hold to our agreement. Maybe I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

His remaining arms reached up, securing Alastor’s wrists and pressing them and him back into the far wall. Their positions now reversed, the radio demon’s eyes widened as the true helplessness of his situation set in. Angel set in with a vengeance now, secure in the fact that the other wouldn’t fight back. Squeezing, poking, prodding, scratching, his fingers flew over Alastor’s torso in a manner that was altogether unfair and, of course, unbelievably ticklish.

“Wahahahait, wahahahait, stahahahahap!” Alastor protested, falling into a fit of laughter soon after. As it turned out, he was horridly sensitive everywhere and Angel took quick advantage of this fact.

“Why, Al? Is it bothering you?” Angel poked under his arms, scribbled fingers over his hips, squeezed the tops of his knees, kneaded his thighs, getting revenge on each and every spot that Alastor had tormented him with. Alastor yelped and jumped with each new method, wishing he hadn’t been quite so thorough in his own investigation. “Wow, you really are ticklish everywhere, huh? I can’t help but wonder though,” he said, parroting Alastor’s words from earlier. “Are these really your worst spots?”

“I-Ihihihihi dohohohon’t knohohohow!” Alastor replied honestly, desperately hoping it was because there was no way it could possibly get worse than this. He tugged frantically on his arms, shaking his head side to side in an attempt to somehow cope with the sensations.

The action gave Angel Dust an idea however. Alastor’s hair fell in his face, revealing those ears which had been a subject of fascination for the spider demon for quite some time. He narrowed his eyes, a thought occurring to him suddenly.

Leaving his armpits alone, his hesitantly scratched the soft material, his nails scratching devilishly against the spot where his ears connected to his neck. Alastor squealed, his shoulders coming up protectively as a flood of giggles spilled from his lips.

“A-Ah! Ahahahangel, wahahahait, thihihis ihihis tohohoo muhuhuhuch!” Alastor’s dignity was quickly crumbling. His chin came almost parallel to his chest as he attempted to trap the other’s fingers. “Ihihihi cahahahahan’t, plehehehease!”

“But you’re so cute,” Angel cooed, scratching right behind his ears and prompting a squeak from the other. “And I got to be honest, making you squeal like this is kind of fun.”

“YohohOHOHOHohohou—” Alastor started in angry embarrassment, but before he could get another word out, Angel moved his right hand over to the other ear as well and he broke off into staticky cackles.

“Holy shit man, is that radio static?” Angel exclaimed, fascination getting the better of him. “Does that happen when you laugh too hard?”

“STAHAHAHAP!” Alastor pleaded instead of answering, squeezing his eyes shut. “PleheEHEHEHease, STAHAHAP!”

“That’s adorable! I’m gonna have to do this more often!”

The thought was enough to send Alastor into an entirely new round of helpless laughter, and in a burst of clarity he managed to manipulate his shadows into seizing Angel Dust under the arms and pulling him away from him.

“Woah, hey, easy there,” Angel complained as the tentacles roughly escorted him on the ground. “This is prized real estate here, fellas.”

Alastor sagged against the wall, exhausted. His nerves were overstimulated from the sudden attack and he clutched his sides, trying to rub away any leftover sensation. “That was…”

“Awful?” Angel guessed, clambering to his feet. “Unbearable?”

“Exhilarating,” Alastor corrected, flushing gently. “I never realized how, ah, intense tickling could be. I can see now why you react so strongly each time.”

“Yeah,” Angel grumbled in agreement. “It’s not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure.” He paused, paling slightly. “You’re not gonna… uh, you know, do anything to me, are ya? Because you have to know I was just kidding around and I would never—”

“Angel,” Alastor interrupted. “I’m not going to do anything to you.”

“Oh.” Angel frowned. “You’re not?”

“No. In fact, I… I wouldn’t be opposed, necessarily, to a repeat of earlier if the right moment ever came.” Alastor spoke plainly as always, but there was a nervous tilt to his words now. “It is possible that I may have enjoyed parts of it.”

Angel stared at him, sure that he was imagining things. Was the radio demon, the terror of hell, actually admitting to liking being tickled? And revealing this information to him, Angel Dust, no less?

Before he could formulate a response, Alastor was moving past him and down the hall, calling out to Nifty and Husk at the bottom of the stairs about some new idea or renovation he had for the hotel—acting as though he hadn’t just admitted the biggest revelation of Angel’s life seconds before. After a moment, Angel returned to his room as well, though Alastor’s words never left his mind for a second.

Life was much different in the hotel after that.

[catxsnow]

YOU NOT HIM T.D.

Request: Can i request reader liking dick but he reject her because she is too young or something lol. But then tim has a crush on her and she slowly starts to fall for him. Then dick regrets it. Pretty please? 🙏 Thanks!

Warning: angst, mentions of blood, if you squint really hard mentions of sexual content, fluff

A/N: This might be one of my favourites 🥺🥺

Word count: 5.1k 

Bruce Wayne was somehow able to adopt all attractive children. Every single kid that he had living under his roof turned out to be ridiculously handsome later on in life. Dick, the oldest - a ladies man through and through. Jason had his whole 'bad boy' persona - though you knew him well enough to know he was nothing but a sweetheart.

Tim was nothing but lovable. He was kind and sweet to you since the beginning. Even Damian who was still young was going to grow up to be just like his father. They were all incredibly good looking people - all of which had made you weak in the knees.

You had been running alongside Bruce and his family for a couple years. Long enough to have known their identities and long enough to be an equal with them. It was had being a sidekick to the great Batman, but you had made do. Being partners with Tim worked fine, but the moment he left, you did too.

Years of training, hard work, and pining over Dick Grayson. The only problem being - he was twenty-six and you were just past the age of eighteen. Far too young for him and in his eyes, way too immature. That didn't stop you from liking him more and more every time you saw him.

You had even gone out of your way to move to Bludhaven to be closer to him. Working more cases in the night with him, getting every chance that you got to be with him. You were hopelessly yearning for him.

Dick Grayson was perfect. He was kind, patient, a total badass. In all your time of knowing him, he always took his time with you no matter the situation. If you couldn't get a proper training move down, he'd stay with you until you got it. Having trouble with your school work - he'd sit with you and figure it out.

He truly was the perfect man, and you wished nothing more to know if he felt the same way. So, the next time you saw him - you risked everything. You told Dick of your feelings for him, how you wished to be together and be the one to love him. You spilled your heart out to him, hoping that he would accept you.

As you should have known, he didn't. Dick saw you as nothing but a little sister he never had. You were far too young for him. His love for you was always there, just not in the way that you had hoped. Heartbroken, you assured him that you understood him and that everything was okay. As long as you didn't lose him forever, that was what mattered the most.

You were thankful that Dick didn't make things awkward between you. Every time you saw him it seemed just like old times - but now you knew not to get your hopes up anymore. Dick had made his choice, and he wasn't going to change it.

With a broken heart, you moved back to Gotham. Back to working with Batman and Robin- neither of which you were fond to be back with. Things weren't the same, Bruce and Damian didn't need you anymore. You would fly solo unless it was some sort of big raid - often times having to go home to an empty apartment where you would have to sew your own wounds.

You missed what your life was like in Bludhaven. Going back would be too hard, you needed to distance yourself from Dick, let these feelings simmer away until there was nothing left. At least, you hoped that was what was going to happen.

Another night of Gotham and another night of blood soaking through your suit. It had only been a few weeks since you had been back but it felt like a lifetime. Gotham was draining and you forgot how terrible it treated you.

"Heard you were back in town," a voice called out. You were in the bathroom, trying to stitch up the cut along your torso. The sudden arrival had caused you to jump, making your wound even worse. "Oh fuck, sorry."

Tim Drake stood at your door. He wore jeans and a t-shirt that showed just how much stronger he had gotten since you had last seen him. You glared at him between winces of pain. Tim carefully grabbed the needle and thread from your bloody hands, wordlessly taking your place and finishing the job.

"What the fuck, Tim," You snapped. Since being home, you were in no mood to speak to anyone of the Wayne family. It was nice being on your own for a while. Besides, he was supposed to be with the Teen Titans right now. "What are you doing here?"

"Heard you were back in Gotham," He repeated earlier. His stitching jabbed you a little too violently and you jerked at the pain. Without realizing you had latched onto his thigh to try to dim the searing hurt that ran up your body. You never noticed Tim's breathing catch in his throat and the heat that crawled up his neck. "Thought I'd come by and see you."

"How'd you find me?" You asked. You never told anyone where you had set up your new home. Tim only gave you a look - of course. He knew how to find you, he could find anyone if he so wanted to it wasn't too difficult. You appreciated him for going out of his way to meet up with you.

Tim finished the last stitch and wiped away the rest of the blood that stained your skin. He placed a white bandage over it and stretched his back from being crouched for so long. Without missing a beat, he followed you to your room, watching you rummage through your drawer to find a t-shirt to wear.

"I'm guessing you didn't just come for a visit," You continued. Tim leaned against your door, arms crossed over his chest. While he explained himself, you went out to clean up your weapons used from the night, something to keep you busy and your mind off the idea that he might bring up Dick's rejection.

"I came to see if you wanted to join me," He announced. You raised an eyebrow at him. So many times you had explicitly stated that you wanted no part of any team. After learning everything from Batman, you picked up on his undesirable trait of not wanting to be part of a team. Whether it was the Justice League or the Teen Titans.

You scoffed and pushed past him to retrieve your bloody suit. It would need to be fixed and cleaned up before tomorrow night. Tim followed you through your small home. He had wanted you to join for a long time, now that you were done your little escapade in Bludhaven, it was the perfect chance to convince you.

"Come on, you're coming home with wounds every night and I'm worried about you," Tim tried to change your mind. Your eyes narrowed at his words - this hadn't been the first time that he had seen you in Gotham.

"You've been following me?" You asked, but more so looking for confirmation. Tim hung his head in shame. He felt like an idiot for letting that slip - you shouldn't have known about it. It had been several days that he had been in Gotham. Bruce knew, he never told you until now.

"I was worried about you," Tim confessed. "I heard about what happened with Dick and I didn't want you to do anything drastic." More like he was hoping that he could be the one to swoop in and win your heart. You were only a year older than Tim, but while you were pining after Dick, he was pining after you.

Those years as being partners he had fallen in love with you. He loved the way that you were so excited to save people, how you were so easily able to solve problems, and the way you smiled when you were excited. This whole time, you hadn't noticed because you were so busy with trying to sway Dick.

You cringed at him revealing knowing about what happened between you and Dick. That was the last thing you wanted to hear come from him mouth - it was embarrassing. You didn't even want to think about what it would be like if Damian found out what had happened; he would never let you hear the end of it.

"I'm not going to work with a team of kids," you kept up with your answer.

"They - we - aren't kids. I just thought maybe you'd like some fresh faces," Tim argued. The selfish part of him wanted you to come just because he wanted to see you. He wouldn't tell you that, not yet anyways.

You had to admit, the idea of getting out of Gotham and seeing some fresh faces sounded a little too perfect to you. It would be nice to put Batman and Co. on the back burner until this stupid flutter in your heart for Dick went away. As much as you didn't want to join a team, it was your best option.  

The bloody suit in your hand dropped to the ground. Maybe it was time for a completely new revamping. New name, new suit, new team, new city. You had been the same vigilante for years - Dick, Jason, even Tim had all grown out of their original stage and into something new. Maybe it was time for you to do so too.

"You know what? Fuck it."

><

"Tim!" You screeched. Your face was bright red from all the blood flowing to it. Everything was viewed upside down and you were starting to get dizzy.

It had been well over a year since you had joined the Titans. They were all excited to see you there, many faces that you had never seen before and even more that you liked to consider friends. Bart, Kon, Cassie - you were all so excited to see them. Joining this team seemed like a pain but the second you stepped into the tower you knew you made the right choice.

Your new persona made you feel alive again and you were more ready than ever to get back out on the streets to kick some ass. This new life that you created here, it was something that you never thought you would be able to do. For the first time in a long time, you felt happy, at home. Something that never truly happened at the Manor.

"Tim! Let me go!" You laugh echoed through the massive room. The two of you had been training - though at that moment neither of you were taking it seriously in the slightest. Tim had grabbed you by the thighs and hauled you over his shoulder, running around and not letting go.

You slapped his ass, hoping that it would be enough to get him to let you go. Instead, he slapped yours even harder. Thankfully he set you back down on the ground, but didn't considering letting you out of his hold. Tim pulled you against his chest, kissing you long and sweet to make up for his behavior.

"Sorry, my love," Tim smirked. No he wasn't.

Maybe the reason that you were so happy with you new life was because of Tim. Tim Drake had been the one to convince you to change homes, and the one to wiggle his way in to mend your broken heart. He had stood by your side through thick and thin, doing everything in his power to make you feel better.

Along the way, he had also gotten you to fall in love with him. Dick was out of your mind, every thought now consumed by Tim. The first year you were there, it was incredible to see such a change within you. Everyone saw it - Bart making the most fun of your growing feelings for Tim. Feelings that you denied for a very long time.

Everyone could see how hopelessly in love you were with each other. You hadn't been able to believe if for a long time. Tim was your friend, your partner - not a lover. There was no way that you saw him like that, right? You had never been so wrong in your entire life.

Maybe these feelings for Tim had always been there. Maybe you were just too busy following Dick around that you didn't have the time to realize it. Or maybe he had brought out a side of him that you hadn't realized existed. You saw him differently than you had when he was Robin.

It was one night that the two of you were alone in the tower - a first since you had been there - that had gotten you to admit your feelings. The night was calm and you guys took the opportunity to play a movie on the big screen. Unfortunately for you, the whole movie you had been consumed with the idea of kissing him.

A perfectly timed sex scene had given you a strange amount of courage. You couldn't take this tension with him anymore. So, you had nearly leaped on top of him, pressing your lips against his. Tim didn't hesitate to react to it, kissing you back and pulling you onto his lap. You straddled him, fingers threading through his hair as he desperately tried to peel your clothes off.

After a very embarrassing, almost naked, confrontation with your teammates that had suddenly arrived, you and Tim became inseparable. Several months of dating and you knew that you had made the right choice with him. Tim cared about you in ways that you never thought a man would do for you.

"Yeah, yeah," You waved him off. Your face was finally going back to normal as the blood flow balancing out. "There's a lot of ways you could make it up to me, you know?" You grinned, hands trailing up his bare chest.

"Oh yeah?" Tim placed his hands on your hips, pulling you completely flush against him. He trailed soft kisses up your neck, eager to hear what you were thinking. "What'd you have in mind?"  

Suddenly, your foot hooked into his ankles and you pulled his legs out from right under him. Tim groaned as his back painfully hit the training mat and a disappointed look filled his eyes. "Buying me lunch."

Tim didn't let you get very far. He pulled the same move as you did and brought you down on the mat. Tim trapped you beneath him, his legs on either side of yours and hands by your shoulders. You could get out if you so wished - but you didn't.

You were thankful he let your hands free. You placed them on either side of his face and pulled him down so you could connect your lips. There were many times that you would be in the training room, Tim convincing you to make out and every time someone would walk in. This time you felt dangerously brave.

Tim gasped as your hands trailed down his chest and towards his shorts. "You really want to risk that right now?" He asked between kisses. You responded without words, and instead adding pressure to your hold. Tim groaned into your neck, there was no way that he could say no to you.

"Tim!"

You had never seen your boyfriend jump off of you so quickly before. The voice hadn't belonged to any of your teammates and the tone of it wasn't scolding, it was excited. Whoever it was, obviously hadn't fully seen what had been going on. You should have expected that you wouldn't get what you wanted.

"(Y/N)?" Dick Grayson faltered in his spot. It was the first time that he had seen you since he had let you down. Nearly two years without seeing how much you had grown.  He had heard that you had moved into the tower, but it had been a long time since you had gone home to Gotham.

Tim went without you, working with Bruce for a few cases here and there. No one had visited the tower while you were there and you had to admit that you were thankful for it. Leaving your past behind - besides Tim - it was refreshing. Seeing Dick again had brought back a tug in your heart that you thought was long gone.

"Dick," You half smiled. His hair was shorter than last time you had seen him. Muscles more defined than ever. The bags under his eyes were worse but his smile was still the exact same. Dick hadn't expected you to be with Tim, not romantically. You never seemed interested in him growing up.

Your breathing caught in your throat. After seeing him for the first time in a long time, you didn't realize the wave of emotions that would come. You were confused by everything flooding your brain - hope, guilt, desire, even anger.

"You look great," he complimented, bringing you in for a hug. It was true. You had grown a lot in these two years. Different hair, more fit than you ever been in your life. Being on this team had done you good in more ways than one.

"What're you doing here?" Tim asked. Dick stared as you interlocked hands with your boyfriend.

"I'm, uh, taking Kori's place as team leader for a little while," Dick explained. Kori had mentioned before that she was going to need to take some time away. She never said what for or when, but she must have had to leave sooner than anticipated. "You guys are together?"

"Yep," your voice strained. You never imagined that this reunion would be so tense. It was easier to see Dick right after he had let you down than it was now. For some reason, his appearance had created a tension. You weren't sure if it was from you, or if Tim was suddenly jealous of his older brother, or Dick was just uncomfortable with it all.

"Congrats," Dick nodded. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. A sudden noise came from outside the room. "I'm gonna go see everyone else I guess. See you later tonight?" You and Tim both nodded in sync. It seemed like the moment that he stepped out of the room, you both let out a breath of air.

"That was weird, right?" You asked, staring at the door that Dick left from rather than up at Tim. You couldn't have been the only one to find that whole confrontation painful. Tim nodded in agreement. His jaw was tight and he glared at the door Dick just left from. "Wait a second, you're not jealous of Dick, are you?"

"No!" Tim defended. Unfortunately for him, you could tell that he was lying. "He was your first love! It's only been two years since he told you he didn't feel the same way. Besides, you didn't see the way he was looking at you. I just..." He trailed off, unsure if he was willing to say what was on his mind.

"You're worried I still have feelings for him," You finished. Tim wearily nodded. You placed your hands at the base of his neck, thumb brushing against his jawline. Tim was forced to look you in your eyes, as much as he didn't want to at this moment. "I love you, Tim. Only you. You have nothing to worry about."

You pulled him down for another kiss. Tim finally melted into your hold. He knew that you loved him, genuinely. However, it was still hard to have Dick be living in the same home as you once again. He felt childish for being jealous for no reason. Dick had already stated that he didn't have feelings for you - he didn't need to worry now.

At least he hoped.

><

Apparently Tim did have something to worry about - and it wasn't you.

Dick's time in the tower extended longer than he imagined it too. He was only supposed to be there for a week or two, now it had been nearly a month. While it was nice to have him around, especially on missions, Tim was eager for his brother to leave them again. He hated when the two of you spent time together.

Maybe it was just him being jealous, maybe he was paranoid. Either way, whenever it was the two of you alone, Tim got antsy. Kon was the first to notice. He assured his best friend that he had nothing to worry about - as far as his Kryptonian sense could tell, you didn't have any feelings for Dick.

Tim found himself spending more nights in your room, keeping you in bed longer than he normally would in the mornings. He even held hands with you more often; you had enjoyed his affection, even though you knew where it had stemmed from.

It was an afternoon of training did he finally have enough. Dick was using you as a partner to show off some new moves for all the team to learn. The two of you danced around the mat, anticipation running high. You were both drenched in sweat, breathing heavy from your previous spar.

"Come on, Big Bird," You taunted. Dick hated that name, it only reminded him of Sesame Street. He hadn't heard that name in a long time - not since he had seen you last. For some reason, it had caught him off guard enough for you to make your strike. Dick reoriented himself rather quickly.

Instead of you taking him down, he had roughly slammed you to the floor. Dick hovered over you, eyes soft as he met yours. Ever since he had been back with you in the tower, there was something eating him alive. Guilt? Shame? He tried to blame his feelings on those but he knew what it was: regret.

Dick regretted letting you go all those years ago. When he was asked to take over the Titans Tower, he was excited to see you. In two short years he had hoped that you hadn't moved on. Not seeing you nearly every day left a hole in his chest and he didn't realize what it was until seeing you again.

Upon realizing that you were with Tim, he felt his heart crack. Of course he had lost his chance with you - and it was no one to blame but himself. Dick pushed you away because he thought you to be too young, when in reality he was just scared of hurting you.

"Dick!" Tim's voice echoed throughout the training room. There was a harsh tone to it, full of jealousy and frustration. It had broken him out of his trance. Dick hadn't realized just how long he had been pinning you down. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp but he was far too strong to get of without hurting him. He had been completely lost in thought being that close to you again.

He shook his head to rid those thoughts, thoughts of you. Dick pushed himself up off the ground and stuck his hand out for you to grab. You didn't take it. Instead, you moved back to Tim's side. He instantly swooped down to kiss your lips. Dick knew what Tim was doing - he was being possessive of you. It was easy to notice with the glare that followed. 

"That's it for today," Dick announced. He left the training room, followed by the rest of your team. It was only Tim, Bart, and Cassie that knew about your history with Dick. Bart and Cass both gave you a weary look as they walked by you. For once, you felt uncomfortable under their gaze.

Finally, it was just you and Tim left. He stared at the floor, thoughts running through his head and keeping him in this trance. What was Dick thinking? Why was he acting like that? Like he regretted his choice with you? He was beyond angered at his brother for looking at you like he was.

You grabbed both of his hands, staring up at him as if he was the only thing that mattered in this world. Tim's gaze where Dick hovered of you wouldn't falter - and sadly you had known exactly what he was thinking. Dick was a ladies man, he knew how to flirt his way through everything and he certainly knew how to flirt with you.

If there was one person in this world that could convince you to leave Tim, it was Dick. He was the one to have your heart first, not Tim.

"Babe," you finally spoke. Your hands slid up his arms until cupping his face. Tim finally met your eyes with a broken look. "I love you, and only you. I need you to know that."

"I do," he whispered. It sounded as if he didn't believe himself, and in some ways, he didn't. All his life he grew up wondering how Dick got women so easily. Now, as soon as he finally gets you, Dick comes back with god knows what intentions. "I love you, too."

"Big Belly Burger?" You offered. Tim hinted at a smile, somehow you always managed to make a dark room light.

"You're buying."

><

You had managed to avoid Dick for the rest of the week. Patrol was exclusively with Tim, training you were paired with Cassie, even at dinner you would sit as far as possible from him. Whether it was because you were good at avoiding him, or if he was putting in the effort as well, you didn't mind the space.

It was your teammates that would catch Dick glancing at you at random points in the day. No one would ever say anything about it, but they all knew that something was going on between the two of you - or something had gone on. In all your time there, it seemed like Tim was the only one on your mind, they didn't think Dick had an important role as well.

It wasn't until the end of the week did Dick corner you. It was late at night, Tim was asleep in your bed and the others were all in their rooms. You found yourself in the kitchen for a late night snack and some tea. One of the few times that you were alone, he knew that he needed to talk to you and set things straight.

"(Y/N)," Dick startled you. Your back was towards him and the sound of his voice had caused you to jump - along with spill boiling hot tea on your hand. "Shit, sorry," he apologized. Dick ran cold water on the tap and gestured for you to put your hand under. Instead, you turned the water off and dried your warm skin.

You didn't want his help.

"What do you need, Dick?" You asked. Tired bags were under your eyes as you looked to him. What he had done at the start of the week had been keeping you up all night.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," Dick began. "I'm sorry for hurting you all those years ago, I'm sorry for the other day, I'm sorry for not realizing your feelings sooner... and mine. I didn't realize how much I cared about you until seeing you again, or I guess seeing you with Tim. I know that I'm a day late and a dollar short, but I needed to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Tell you that I love you," Dick revealed. His arms were crossed over his chest and he avoided your gaze. It took him two years to realize his mistake of missing out on you and he regretted it. He wished that he hadn't been so ridiculous to think your age mattered - now when in the grand scheme of things it wasn't even a big age gap.

Your breathing stopped for a second. Two years ago you would have been ecstatic to hear those words come from his mouth. That was all you wanted to hear from him. Now, now the words sent a chill down your spine and left you with a dry mouth. You didn't want to hear that from him anymore.

The grip on your mug tightened until you swore the ceramic was going to crack. You let out a huff of air, frustrated with his words. Why was he telling you this now? To ruin your relationship with Tim? To win your heart back? You loved Tim, and that was the end of the story. Dick was your friend, that was all.

"I think it's time you head back to Bludhaven, Dick," You met his eyes once more. The team would do fine without him or Kori for a few more days. Right now, you just wanted him gone. You didn't want to have to look Dick in the eyes knowing that he loved you and you no longer felt the same way.

The distance apart had done wonders on you, now he needed to do the same. Forget about you, find someone else. You wanted Dick to be happy, to be in love. He was still basically your family, you always wanted what was best for him. Being around you after this revelation? That was far from what was best.

"I'm sorry," Dick apologized once more.

"So am I," you placed a hand on his shoulder as you walked by. You paused at the doorway, debating whether or not to tell him that you wished him all the best. In the end, you decided against it and walked back towards your room.

Tim was still asleep in your bed. His back was exposed and the covers were down to his waist. Snores filled the silent room, muffled by the pillow that he was hugging. This was the love of your life. You were always meant to be with Tim, never Dick. It might have taken you over half a decade to realize it, but it was well worth the wait.

The mug of tea that you had made for yourself was set on your desk and long forgotten. Instead, you slipped into bed with Tim, who stirred at your appearance. The pillow he was hugging was replaced with you and he snuggled into the crook of your neck. Tim sleepily left a kiss against your skin, too tired to fully wake.

"I love you, Timmy. More than anyone," You whispered. He was already back asleep, unaware of the words you spoke. Unaware of the conversation that you had with Dick. It was best that he didn't know. You and Dick were adults, there was no childish rivalry needed. You didn't want to be the one to ruin a brotherly relationship.

Tim had you, that was all that mattered.

[misskittysmagicportal]

can i request something to do with the thing about vincent having tics while giving oral or just vincent giving oral general i love the way you write things

I Think We're Alone Now

(Vincent Rhodes x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: language, talk of mental health, fem!receiving oral

A/N: With the pandemic keeping you and Vincent apart, he was glad that being alone didn't mean being lonely.

Vincent Rhodes didn't tic as bad or as much in his thirties. He wasn't cured. He didn't take medicine that made them magically go away. He took meds for his anxiety, and the “cure” was still going to therapy with Dr Rose. He didn't go daily or weekly or even monthly anymore. He managed every other month. Sometimes, perhaps, every three to four months. Yet it took twenty-five to finally accept a cliche: Tourette's wasn't Vincent, Vincent simply HAD Tourette's.

Don't worry though, cunt is still his favorite word.

Vincent also did all the things he told Marie he wanted to do. He finished school and went to college online. He found himself rather good at computers and a job that required the bare minimum of human interaction. His Tourette's was under control, but his social anxiety never seemed to be. We digress!

He had a job, and a place to call home that wasn't a treatment facility or a hoarder’s house bogged down by sadness and alcoholism. Vincent didn't find it shameful that his father bought him a condo. He and his roommate had an agreement to pay utilities and work on the re-election campaign.

Vincent finally had a dog. A dog he had to fight for because his roommate had.. Rituals. Rituals that also weren't as bad as they used to be thanks to the same therapy and right medication. Just like you can't get rid of Tourette's, Vincent couldn't get rid of Alex either. That was his first, and really only, friend. As tumultuous as they started out, if you survive a road trip with two neurodivergents, you're pretty much bonded for life. Alex was sometimes more work than their dog.

Vincent and Alex did things in their late twenties and early thirties they never thought they'd do. They went out. They dated around. They had awkward sex and one night stands that the two of them could finally laugh about. Vincent could hide, or save his tics from popping up during his dates. He could even manage to hold them off when he had sex. He was relaxed and focused on the woman beneath or above him.

But then he would spasm, or twist and pop his mouth. He would unintentionally squeal or swear, call her names or flip her off. Instead of understanding Vincent, or talking to him, whoever the girl of the moment was would leave and never come back. Fuck her, Vincent would think. I can't help that I have Tourette’s; she can help being an asshole.

-----

There could not have been a worse time in anyone’s life for you to meet quite possibly the single hottest guy in your neighborhood. At least, you thought he was in your neighborhood. You kept running into each other at various stores to the point you found yourself quoting an old movie from college.

“Are you stalking me?” You boldly questioned him one afternoon as he pondered Mcintosh versus Fiji apples. “Because that would be super.”

The man jumped. Then to your shock, he spasmed almost violently. His neck twisted to the left as his hand held on to his chin and yelled out, “Brown haired cunt! Grass licking big tits.”

You laughed. It wasn't malicious or in jest. You were nervous and stunned. Still you replied, “Normally a guy has to date me for a while before he calls me a cunt. Now as for grass licking? That was only once, but I was high and we were playing truth or dare.”

He stared at you, mouth agape. A violent spasm rocked his body again like an aftershock. It caused him to excessively blow a dark curl back from his forehead several times before his body relaxed and he appeared to sink in on himself. Embarrassed. A pink hue spread along his cheeks and angled jaw as he gazed at the apples again with large green eyes.

“You ok? I wouldn't say I've got big tits. They're more like medium sized. Unless you were talking about the melons.” You held up two cantaloupe in front of your chest. “I’m y/n”

Again with the mouth open staring. Then he came to, “Vincent. I've never had someone react to Arthur that way.”

“I'm from New York. That was a Saturday night in the village. Who’s Arthur?” You looked around. “Are you being held hostage? Scream cunt for yes. Vagina for no.”

Vincent laughed. It was almost a giggle that you weren't sure was a laugh or his thing. “Arthur is my Tourette's. He's the clown who shits in between my thoughts. My tics. You scared the piss out of him.”

“You named your Tourette's? You can't do that, they never go away once you name them.”

Vincent rolled his eyes, “ DAMMIT! I'll take away his bowl of food and dog bed too. Maybe I'll finally be cured!”

You didn't want him to think you felt something was wrong with him. “Mostly with all of this, I meant I keep seeing you around. Thought I'd say hi.”

“How about we exchange phone numbers, and you can say hello more often?” Vincent cocked an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to assume calling me a cunt is flirting! But you got it out of the way now instead of down the line. Give me your phone.”

He obliged and you put your number in. As you handed it back you joked, “Should've told me you had a much sexier friend.” You indicated Alex on the phone’s wallpaper.

“He's gay.”

“Damn! Lucky for men. Anyways, I work most days. Don't know how long with everything happening out there. Call me sometime?”

Vincent twitched and wolf whistled. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, but promised he would nonetheless. But then pandemic happened, so all you had for the next six months was your phone

-----

You met Alex and learned his rituals and empathized with his panic to follow or abide by heath guidance. His OCD aggravated by everything going on. Vincent couldn't even go for a run without his friend completely freaking out, so he just didn't. Their balcony was it for fresh air.

You took tours of each other's apartments. Had dinners and breakfasts together. Shared what books you were reading and watched movies together. Vincent teased you about your fat, lazy cat and you did likewise over his ten pound shih tzu. Although, you admitted, it was because she got to share a bed with him.

Somehow in month 5 you were roped into a three way phone call with his dad. Senator Rhodes and Vincent seemed to have an easy relationship, but you were filled in later that it was anything but for a very long time. So you turned the tables one night, and introduced him to your entire family.

Forgetting about his Tourette's, because you had really grown used to it all. To the tics, the whistles and excessive use of the word cunt (Pandemic drinking game, Vincent’s idea) that his biggest episode since you met stunned not only you but your clan. Vincent had buried his face, you were terrified of your mistake. But you got it from somewhere.

“Sure you ain't from Brooklyn, kid?!” Thank Christ for meathead brothers.

“This is dating right?” Vincent asked after their dinner. “Pandemic, COVID, for now dating. Even though,” he paused to twist his neck, “One of my coworkers has uh, dick appointments all the time?” He snapped a finger several times and shouted something about a whore and syphilis.

“Hey! Tell Arthur to fuck off. Sexual liberation. She's not a whore, she's in her twenties!” Vincent laughed. “Are you nervous about something? Usually the bedtime part of our phone calls are the least tic-ish.”

“Wanna have sex?” He was straightforward.

“Right now? Facetime sex?” You scrunch your nose but more to be cute than creeped out.

“Here. Alex is asleep. Come over? We've been isolated for months.”

“God, I love you.”

“What?” Vincent laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

-----

Vincent opened the door and implored you to take your shoes off at the door. You expected nothing less as you complied and followed him in the stillness of the apartment to his bedroom.

The moment the door was shut, Vincent was on you before you could even adjust to the dark. Only street lamps from the neighborhood below showed through as his mouth consumed yours.

Your tongues at war with each other as the two of you scrambled to undress. Your lips broke apart long enough to throw shirts over heads and step out of flannel pants or yoga pants. Then they crashed together again as Vincent let his hands splay out the length of your back and shoulders.

Your one hand ensnared by his messy hair. The other under the waistband of his boxers and over his ass. You drew his body to yours to melt into. His erection strained and throbbed against your hip as you hungrily pushed your tongue as far inside him as you could.

The both of you eager like teenagers shot with adrenaline. Anxious and hoping Alex caught you as Vincent twitched and his shoulders shrugged up to his ears. His fingers fumbled with your bra made worse by his tics. Tics that frustrated only him; you reached and undid it for him. Your breasts were free for him to look at.

Vincent attempted to choke back his words but failed. “Tit fucker,” a sour look on his face as his eye involuntarily clamped shut, “huge nipples.” He swallowed his lips, mortified.

“Hey!! They make up for yours being the tiniest nipples I have EVER seen on a dude.” You took Vincent’s hand. “We can slow down if you want. I don't know what's up, do you tic like this every time you have sex?”

The two of you laid side by side on his bed, hands traced over inches of bare skin. Vincent was silent for a while as he let his fingers trail over you, his lips not far behind.

“I don't. I'm usually too focused. The last time I loved someone, it fell apart immediately. It's making me anxious.”

You held his head to your body with a tenderness. “I loved you first, didn't I?”

His mouth made its way amongst your breasts as he gently laid you on your back. His lips warm on your stomach and hips that he exposed by tugging your panties down over your knees and off. Vincent laid down between them and almost nuzzled his nose in your soft pubic hair before his tongue dove inside of you.

Your hips rocketed up into his mouth as you grabbed the back of Vincent's head. He licked and sucked on your sex. Small tics caused him to push his tongue and lips in further than before. They closed in on your clit. His tongue attacked it with a lapping motion that you could only bend to, helpless.

Vincent was insatiable, his mouth in a frenzy. Your fingers caught up in the sheets as the sensation of his mouth on your clit spread along your body. Now your words were a shock as they came screaming out into the quiet of the bedroom.

“Tongue fuck me! Faster!”

Instead Vincent looked up at you with a grin, “I see Arthur came to visit.”

Tag: @robertsheehanownsmyass @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @magic-multicolored-miracle @sean-falco @elliethesuperfruitlover @bisexualnathanyoung @bwritesstuff @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private

[cole-grey-writes]

Different, 70 Years Later

Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Timeline: Post-The Avengers

Character(s): Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Male Reader

Warning(s): swearing, perceived homophobia, mentioned period typical homophobia

Request: Omg hi i miss seeing you in here. Can i request Steve Rogers X Male Reader angst + fluff. Like they had a big fight and then in the end they just forgive each other and cuddle and talk about a beautiful memories together until they both asleep. I love you ❤️

A/n: WOW can i just apologize that it took me literally months to finish this. I’ve just been so preoccupied by another fandom that I started hyperfocusing on (it was my hero academia if anyone wants to know). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and ignore the fact it took me a decade to get it out :)

You and Steve have only been dating for five months when you have your first fight. Honestly, it’s surprising that it took this long to happen.

You wish you didn’t remember what the fight was about, you really wish, but you remember exactly.

The fight had started due to Steve’s attitude towards your relationship. It’s clear that Steve isn’t ready to come out to his friends about your relationship, as you’ve come to realize, but that’s obviously not your actual concern. You’re not at all bothered by Steve not being ready to come out, it’s a subject you would never push. No, there’s a much bigger issue that you have a problem with.

It seems Steve is still being influenced by rotten and outdated 1930s ideology, still thinks that being queer is a bad thing which is very much untrue. You had done your best to explain that to your boyfriend, done your best to explain that there is absolutely nothing wrong with two men being in a relationship despite how much Steve’s time period has convinced him otherwise. Your efforts to help had backfired, though, for reason you can’t even begin to figure out.

Steve had gotten defensive all of a sudden, the conversation getting out of hand and blurry from there. The conversation turned into something else, something bordering on a screaming match. The fact that it was near midnight when the fight began had saved your neighbors from having to endure any interrupted sleep.

You and Steve had broken apart, eventually. Unfortunately, it was not because you were actually done fighting and instead, because Steve had stormed out of your apartment where you both had gathered after a long day (well, more like a week) of work. Maybe it sounded cliche or something, but you realized you wouldn’t be speaking to Steve for a while once you hear the echoing of the apartment door slamming shut.

You were right about you and Steve not speaking because you’re sitting in a local coffee shop called Honey Bean all by yourself by the time a week has passed.

You’re settled down at one of the two-seater tables in the front of the coffee shop so that the sun can bath you in light. You’d ordered a large muffin, although it’s not your favorite kind because apparently they don’t make more batches after 10:00 a.m., and are also half-way finished with your second venti cup of iced coffee. It’s not much of a lunch, though you don’t really care because you weren’t paying attention to your food all that much.

Your mind is still preoccupied with the fight, unable to force the thoughts revolving around it away.

“Want some shop with that coffee?” the voice breaks through the constant replay from behind your eyes. Your eyes snap up to Clint who has taken a seat across from you. You and Clint have both worked for SHIELD for years so you are very close, working as partners on missions many times. Actually, missions are where you and Clint grew closer, Natasha Romanov as well, which lead to your inevitable friendship.

You press your lips together, putting your coffee down as you refrain from rolling your eyes. “How’d you find me?” Clint’s mouth opens as if he’s going to say something but you interrupt him at the last moment. “Why am I even asking? You had Nat track my phone, didn’t you?”

Clint smiles too sweetly for the conversation you have no doubt is fast approaching. “You got that right.”

“Well,” You sigh heavily, “have at it. Say what you want to say.”

Clint hums, clearly appearing amused is the smile he’s failing to hide is anything to go by. “You know, I think I’ll start with the fact that you’re sitting in a coffee shop all alone because you’re too embarrassed to run into Steve in the SHIELD cafeteria.”

You don’t reply to Clint’s spoken truths as you play with the crumbly remains of your muffin. You mumble something along the lines of, “Hate being friends with SHIELD agents,” but your miniscule snip only causes Clint to laugh.

“So,” Clint says, “are you gonna explain why you and Steve are avoiding each other?”

You stare straight at Clint instead of avoiding eye contact, otherwise that would be admitting defeat, but you don’t say anything either because that would also be considered admitting defeat mostly because you have absolutely no idea what the hell you’re supposed to tell Clint. You and Steve are in a secret relationship. It’s bad enough that spilling your guts to Clint would be sharing your relationship without Steve’s permission but you would also be outing Steve in the process, which is completely out of the question disrespectful.

“No?” Clint says in a wondering tone before he shrugs, almost as if he knew you were going to refuse to answer the question. “I guess I’ll just tell you why you’ve been avoiding each other. You two got into a fight, a pretty bad one, not that it was hard to figure out. Bad enough to drive a visible wedge between two best friends who’ve been practically joined at the hip for months.”

You’re even more speechless, more than before, as Clint stares at you knowingly from across the table. Apparently, it’s his turn to sip his coffee pointedly.

You choose to bite the bullet and speak when Clint doesn’t continue picking apart your relationship with Steve after about a minute of complete silence. “Do you have a point to this?”

“There is a point,” Clint confirms. “The point is to make you talk to Steve.”

“Yeah, no shit. But, why?”

“Because you pout everywhere you go,” Clint informs you as if you didn’t already know. “Look, you’re obviously really bothered by whatever the fight was about. You and Steve aren’t gonna go back to what you were before unless you talk to each other about whatever happened.”

Your gaze lowers dejectedly, towards the muffin crumbs that stick to the napkin it sits on. The picture is clichely symbolic of what your and Steve’s entire relationship is gonna be if you don’t at least try to work through your fight. “You really think me and Steve could go back to being what we were before?”

Clint doesn’t even seem to hesitate before answering. “Guess you won’t know until you talk to him.” You roll your eyes more due to the harsh truth behind his words than any actual annoyance towards Clint for saying it.

You chew the inside of your cheek as you wonder if you should say what you’re thinking because you know it’s gonna be a very high ego boost for Clint. Ultimately, you decide to say it anyway. He deserves it after coming all this way so he could get two friends back together.

“You’re too convincing for your own good,” you tell him, Clint only smiling smugly in response. “Thank you.”

Clint shakes his head slightly. “Thank me by tracking Steve down and talking to him.”

Smiling, you nod in agreement. Finding Steve and making up is definitely going to be an immediate priority.

Standing from the table, you pick up all your trash, which just consists of a dirty napkin and two empty coffee cups, so you can throw it out on your way out of the door but Clint is stopping you.

“You can also thank me with another coffee,” Clint quickly adds before you’ve even begun to walk away. You scoff in disbelief before you internally give up.

“I’ll buy you as much coffee as you want when this is all over,” you promise him while grinning at the return of Clint’s playful personality.

Clint grins back at you, saying, “I’ll hold you to that.”

It seems as if the walk back to SHIELD takes forever while simultaneously taking no time at all which makes you even more anxious because now the discomfort and awkwardness that will be accompanying this talk is closer than you would like. But, that thought is quickly shoved away by the other side of your brain. Instead, it presents you with another thought, a fact actually that if you didn’t have this talk with Steve, your relationship would never be able to heal.

You suddenly realize that this fight could very well cost you your relationship with Steve which is even worse than having to deal with some minor discomfort for an hour at most. You don’t want that at all.

You remember how Steve had been adamant that being queer wasn’t right, most definitely from internalized homophobia, but you also remember how painfully upset he had looked while you two were going back and forth. You don’t want to give up on Steve, he doesn’t deserve that, especially not after enduring so much violent discrimination in his day and even some in the current years. Steve deserves to finally have some reprieve, deserves at least a shot at a happy ending.

You waste no more time wallowing in your own side of the story, pushing yourself to find Steve quickly.

Trudging through the halls of SHIELD headquarters seems to be more confusing than usual but you still manage to find Steve before the end of lunch. You spot him through the giant windows that provide a good view into the cafeteria. Steve is sitting with Natasha at a table with half-eaten food forgotten in front of them. Now, you want to march right inside the cafeteria so you can talk to Steve immediately but you don’t want to interrupt his lunch with Natasha so you just wait impatiently in the hallway.

Leaning against the wall across from the double-doors leading into the cafeteria, you watch as Steve finally stands from his table. Steve and Natasha exchange some sort of short conversation before he’s hastily making his way out of the cafeteria. Steve’s in such a hurry that you’re almost worried you won’t catch him before he walks off.

“Steve!” you call out, Steve pausing in his apparent quest to turn towards you. His eyes widen slightly upon recognizing you. As you approach him, you wonder, “Hey, um, can we… talk?”

“Wha– yes, of course!” Steve stutters awkwardly. “I was… actually just looking–”

And then there’s a buzzing noise echoing out from his pocket, clearly coming from his phone. You and Steve stop moving at the same time, the same look crossing your faces because you know exactly what that buzz means.

“You have a mission,” you state plainly as if Steve didn’t already sense that.

Steve sighs sadly, mumbling, “Yeah.”

You had feared this precise situation. You had wanted to make up with Steve before he left for a mission so that your fight wouldn’t stew any longer than it already has.

“This isn’t over,” Steve blurts. You look at him, confused and slightly worried at his phrasing. “I–I mean… I’ll text you. When the mission is over. We’ll talk.”

Managing a smile, you nod your head in agreement. When Steve steps forward, eyeing you questioningly, it takes a second for you to understand why. He’s clearly wondering whether or not it’s okay for him to kiss you goodbye. Kissing goodbye was just something you always did before Steve left for missions, your shared way of expressing that you’re gonna see each other again.

You take a step forward as well, understanding and relief flashing through Steve’s eyes as you do so, and you come together to exchange your goodbye kiss. You stay in the kiss for as long as you can but Steve’s phone is buzzing inside his pocket once again.

Separating reluctantly, you watch as Steve turns and walks away from you as the kiss lingers in your mind. Remembering how it felt, remembering that it felt like every other goodbye kiss you’ve exchanged before, which is surprisingly comforting to you.

The kiss in no way signifies that everything is fixed between you and Steve but it definitely means that you aren’t going to run away from each other anymore.

The mission doesn’t last very long, surprisingly, because Steve texts you around 9 o’clock asking you if he could stop by your apartment after he lands which you immediately agree with. You don’t even have to think about it anymore, the hours you spent alone giving you some time to really think about your fight.

In all honesty, as the hours ticked by, the fight between you and Steve grew to appear increasingly stupid and kinda messed up. You can’t even believe you’d blown up at Steve like you did instead of trying to reassure and comfort him. Steve isn’t like modern day homophobes, he didn’t have an open environment in his days to safely navigate and learn about queerness.

Your mind races with all the better ways you could have reacted to Steve as you impulsively made your living space cleaner for your boyfriend’s arrival. He knocks on your door at just past 10:30 p.m. and you don’t even have the willpower to stop yourself from instantly opening the door so it doesn’t seem like you were anxiously waiting right next to it.

You and Steve nervously stare at each other from opposite sides of the door before you finally step aside and invite him in. Steve smiles and enters your apartment, which is when you notice that he’s still dressed in his Cap uniform meaning he came straight to you after he landed. It’s a little dirtied and has clearly been drug through the mud but it’s not destroyed.

Relocating to the living room, Steve sits on the couch while you choose to sit perched up on the arm of the single seater. “Okay, so I think I should start off by telling you that I’m sorry,” you say, speaking meekly while subconsciously rubbing at the back of your neck. “I know that’s probably not what you wanna hear–”

“No, I’m sorry, too. I didn’t react the way I should have…” Steve trails off, as if he’s trying to get his thoughts and feels in order. “It’s just that I don’t think I’m ready to tell people, yet.”

Your mind stalls at your boyfriend’s words for a moment, your confusion causing you to stutter. “Wha– Steve, you don’t have to be.”

Steve’s face falls as he seems to cave into himself slightly, the sight twisting your guts in circles. You have never wanted to make Steve feel like that, like he has to hide from you. “That’s not what you said earlier.”

You feel your face scrunch up in confusion as your head tilts to the side. “What do you mean?”

Steve shifts around in his seat awkwardly. “Earlier, you know…” he shrugs and waves his hand around a bit, as if to help remind you of what he’s talking about. “when you were trying to convince me to come out.”

“What, Steve, no!” You’re immediately sitting up straight in your seat, your entire face widening in surprise. “That’s-that’s not what I was trying to say at all.”

“It wasn’t?”

You shake your head vigorously. “No, of course not. Me trying to bully you into coming out is just as bad as outing you myself. The only person who gets to decide when you come out is you.”

“Well, then what was I even mad at you for?” Steve wonders, his turn for his face to mold into a questioning expression.

“I have no idea… alright, let me get something straight,” you speak slowly, trying to make sense of the fight you and Steve had a week prior. “Last week, during our fight, you were only telling me you weren’t ready to come out about our relationship.”

“Correct.”

“And… and you weren’t actually saying you that being queer was a bad thing?”

Steve’s eyes darken with worry. “You thought I was saying that?” his voice seems so small, it makes you feel guilty for even thinking what you thought.

“I don’t know,” you sigh heavily, hands coming up to rub at your face. “I thought you were still being effected by your time period’s public homophobic ideals.”

Steve hums understandingly for some reason. “I know I used to internalize that stuff before, but I’ve worked through all that. I know being queer doesn’t make me less than others.”

You stand from your place on the arm of the single seater sofa so you can approach and reassure your boyfriend of the feelings you had previously thought he had. “That’s good, it doesn’t,” you pause before continuing. “I only wish I could go back and actually understand what you were saying. This whole thing wouldn’t have happened if I had just listened to you.”

“We both weren’t listening,” Steve smiles up at you sadly, clearly just as regretful as you are about this stupid fight that obviously shouldn’t have even happened in the first place.

You and Steve sit in silence for a moment, processing everything that’s just come out about your fight. There’s not more words exchanged between you as you both stand from your seats and gravitate towards each other in order to wrap your arms around each other.

You hug tightly for quite a long time, not saying anything, until you finally say, “I know you didn’t say anything about spending the night…”

“… Yeah,” Steve answers your unvoiced question without hesitation.

Somehow hugging even tighter, you and Steve manage to maneuver yourselves into the couch, laying side by side while pressing up against each other. You’re mostly on your back with Steve’s head resting near your neck and unable to stop yourself, you rest your hands in Steve’s soft blond hair in order to play with it despite how much soot and dried sweat lays within it.

It’s a while before one of you speaks. Steve begins to wonder out loud, “You remember how we met?”

You scoff lightheartedly, “How could I possibly forget?”

The memory comes to your mind easily. It was in the SHIELD cafeteria, you and Steve walking with your respective companions when Steve makes a sharp turn and accidentally bumps into you. Steve’s tray of food, as well as your own, spills all over you and your agent uniform. You remember Steve becoming a stammering mess of apologies out of embarrassment while Natasha stood next to him, surveying the scene in obvious amusement.

“You cost me $15 in dry cleaning,” you remind your boyfriend.

“I paid you back,” Steve whines as he pouts playfully.

Pressing your lips to Steve’s forehead, you mumble, “You certainly did.”

And, in fact, Steve did pay you back and he paid you back in the form of a two hour coffee date three days after he’d asked you out with a face as red as the tomato soup he’d spilled all over you.

You and Steve fall into a comfortable silence as you both seem to reminisce about an easier time in your relationship. Not that you want to go back to that time, you’re confident in that because while the first few months were easier, you and Steve have become more connected as time went on. You and Steve are closer to each other than you had been in the beginning and you don’t want to lose that for anything, not even for an easier time in your relationship.

“I know we can’t prevent fights,” you mutter, voice catching Steve’s attention. “But, can we at least promise that we’ll never stay away from each other for that long ever again?”

You feel Steve trying to burrow further into your neck as he says, “Only if we promise not to yell at each other that loud ever again.”

You agree immediately.

(NOT MY GIF)

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