#you can probably tell where i tried to edit his foot back on his body

[namorssideburns]

Baby you're so dynamic

[kitsuga]

PREFECT open the door {Ace Trappola x Reader/MC/Yuu}

Description: 

A fic in which Ace tries to move into the Ramshackle Dorm.

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Tags: fluff, honestly. i feel ace. i too would try to flirt and fail so horribly, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, you can assume reader/mc is yuu!, twisted wonderland x reader/mc/yuu, twst x reader/mc/yuu, twisted wonderland/twst, ace trappola x reader/mc/yuu, ace trappola 

Word Count: 1,899

A/N: Written on: February 12, 2022 

One of my sisters loves him and begged for some ace content so here it is LKJSDFKJSDF 

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“I thought the little punk was getting better—so why the hell is this thing on me again!”  

Ace pushed past the hardly awake MC and flopped down on the dusty couch in the lounge. His long, heavy sigh shook his whole body; he launched into his complaint again, not noticing that MC had barely shuffled into the room behind him. 

“Who told him there was a rule for stepping into the room with your right foot first if it’s past 9 P.M. Who!? I get my head taken for something stupid like that!” 

“Was it that you stepped into the room with the wrong foot, or you argued with him?” 

“How could you accuse me of something like that!” 

MC rubbed their eyes, taking a long sigh before they spoke again. 

“What did you say to him?” 

“...I didn’t SAY anything.” 

“What did you do.” 

Ace’s lips twisted to the side with a huff as he refused to make eye contact with them. Boring a hole in the side of his head, MC sat and waited for him to paint the picture of his own demise.  

“I.... kmcked’m,” he mumbled. 

“You what?” 

“I kicked him!” Ace shouted, throwing his hands up in the air, letting them fall alongside the rest of his body, slouching further into the couch. “He turned around after yelling at me and I just, I kicked the back of his knee—I didn’t kick him that hard!” 

“Ace.” MC held their face in their hands, disappointment completely evident in their voice. 

“It wasn’t even genuinely a kick—it was more of a push!” 

“Ace.” They growled from behind their hands.  

“You know I love hearing my name and all--” 

“Stop talking.”  

The two of them sat in silence for a moment; Ace snuck a few looks over at MC, making sure to retract his gaze if they made a move to look back at him. As though it were their new catchphrase, MC sighed heavily once again and smacked their knees, pushing themselves up off the couch.  

“Well, you dug your own grave, Trappola. Sucks to be you.” 

“Aw, come on, Prefect!” 

“What do you mean ‘aw come on’? What do you expect me to do? You’re lucky there wasn’t a bigger consequence for you—like being kicked from school for violence.” 

“One little kick, really?” 

“You’re talking about Riddle. Yes, one little kick.”  

MC pushed Ace’s head playfully, moving him around on the couch a bit which was met with his protests. They ignored him as he called out to them by name, simply waving their hand to dismiss his words while climbing the stairs. Over their shoulder, they wished him sweet dreams and shut down whatever he was saying by suggesting he sleep by pointing out the extra blanket draped over the armchair in the living room. Ace sat back on the couch with his arms crossed, lips twisted to the side in a heavy pout as he watched them disappear up the stairs, his eyes lingering where they fell out of his sight for a few extra moments. 

The redheaded boy sighed, knowing that MC was probably right—not that he’d tell them, anyway. He made his bed and he had to lie in it—both figuratively and in actuality; dusting off the older couch, he laid on his back and wrapped himself in the blanket all after he had turned off the lights. He lay with his eyes closed, trying his hardest to get comfortable with the bulky collar around his neck. He twisted, turned, and sighed more times than he could count—counting it may have helped him to fall asleep at this point. Ace opened his eyes to stare at the crumbling ceiling above him, his eyes dragging over each piece of the spider's webs that decorated the place. The night would not take him. 

Nor would the shadows. Nor would his mind. Everything fought sleep as his brain constantly moved its gears, but no actual thoughts had come to his mind. Ace was missing something—longing for something. There was a reason Ace had run to the Ramshackle Dorm rather than simply retreating to his room—and that reason had moved to their own bed upstairs. An hour or two had passed since he first laid down, but he was getting too antsy now; he threw the blanket off him and jumped to his feet in a huff. 

Even if he tiptoed, the old wooden stairs creaked and moaned beneath his feet; each one made him wince, so he had given up. He was sure MC would have been up by now anyway with the sounds, so he rushed the rest of the way to their room, throwing open the door. 

A sliver of moonlight illuminated MC. Grim had curled up at the foot of the bed as their back had faced the door; they turned to look over their shoulder at Ace as he stood in the doorway. Their voice had matched their face—emotionless and stoic. 

“What.” 

“Prefect.” 

“Yes, Ace. What.” 

He hurried over to the bed, throwing himself onto his hands and knees on top of it to slightly hover over MC as they turned to their back to meet his eyes. 

“Let me move into your dorm.” 

“...Get out of my room.” 

“MC, please!” 

“No. Good night, Ace.” 

Ace bounced on the bed which was met with groans from both MC and Grim, who was doing his best to ignore Ace.  

“Seriously! Let me move in. I’ll transfer over to your dorm, and I’ll never have to deal with the little tyrant again!” 

“You can’t, Ace. Now go to sleep.” 

“Come on!” 

“No. Now, shut up.” 

“You’re being unreasonable!” Ace shook the bed once again, ignoring Grim’s shout at him to knock it off. 

“Good night, Ace.” 

MC turned to their side to face him and closed their eyes tight in hopes that their friend would take the hint and leave; they smiled slightly to themselves when they felt the weight of his body leave the bed but frowned deeply when they felt a gust of cold hit them. They opened their eyes to find his staring back at them, only a few spare inches between them.  

“Fine, if you won’t let me into your dorm, then let me into your bed!” 

They groaned when he wiggled an arm underneath them and pulled himself even closer; Ace held them close and with a devilish grin, nuzzled his nose against their cheek even as they tried to turn their face away. MC hissed each time the lock of his collar rammed into them. He could almost feel the heat of their blush traveling up their face as he continued getting as close as he could to them, keeping an arm around them to hold his position; they didn’t attempt to free themselves, just drew their eyebrows together and frowned even deeper. 

“You’re already in my bed!” They lightly kicked his shin. “Out.” 

“Okay, then let me into your bed every night.” 

MC was surely paying attention now as it was Ace’s turn to start trying to fight off a blush; unfortunately for him, the sliver of moonlight was showing all his cards. He turned his face away from them and tried his hardest to look annoyed, but it was difficult to turn away as the collar around his neck was pretty bulky.  

It was best to come clean, right? Ace battled with his pride, his confidence, and his now flustered and racing heart. He stammered a bit but tried his best to hold his head up high despite his limited movement and looked down his nose at MC, who was still only inches away from his own face. 

“Well, I mean—yeah. I said what I said. Maybe I want to crawl into your bed every night. It’d be a lot easier to do if you just let me move into your dorm.” 

“Ace--” 

“Look, I came to see you ‘cause I was upset, yeah—but I really like when you comfort me. You’re still so nice under that irritating dismissiveness, and you’re always ready to help me out but still put me in my place. I think you’re kind of dumb but, you know, in a cute way, and I just—arhg!”  

Ace wiped his face with his free hand as though he could wipe off his embarrassment or the crimson colour off of his skin; he felt like the shadows in the room were laughing at him. He opened his eyes back up to find MC’s staring back at him, an unreadable emotion pooling within them. 

“So... how ‘bout now? Will you let me into your dorm?” 

The two of them sat in silence for a bit, the room heavy with emotion; Ace was just thankful Grim was asleep and missed his confession or he’d never hear the end of his embarrassment. He bit his tongue as MC blinked a few times, looking between his eyes and scanning his face for any hint of him messing with them—he knew that look anywhere. He stared at them a bit harder, trying to silently indicate the authenticity of his confession; his eyes started to wander down to their lips, however, and found himself swallowing hard before subconsciously leaning in slowly to bridge the small gap between the two of them. 

“No.” MC pushed his face away gently, playfully. 

Ace groaned and grabbed them by the wrist, moving their hand and returning his face to his previous spot. 

“What do you mean no--” 

“No, you can’t transfer to my dorm. It’s impossible.” 

“Oh, so the no wasn’t for the kiss?” His devilish grin was evident in his voice. His face was pushed away again after another attempt to lean in; he met this action with a repeat of his groan and moving MC’s hand. 

“What you can do, besides move into my dorm, is go apologize to Riddle tomorrow.” 

“Uhg.” 

“I’ll go with you, it’ll be fine.” 

MC brushed a rogue strand of hair out of Ace’s face, softly caressing his cheek a moment before intertwining their fingers with his and placing their hands in the space between their faces. 

“We can go on a date once you get that annoying collar off. Then, you can kiss me the right way.” 

Ace’s eyes went wide before growing hooded, a genuine, loving smile accompanying his gaze on the person in front of him. He knew it was the right choice to come seek comfort in their loving arms, and he was glad he had pushed himself to annoy them; the blanket downstairs wasn’t even a fraction as warm as he was enveloped in the feelings between the two of them, and the couch was certainly not as soft and inviting.  

So, he couldn’t move into their dorm, but he could move into their heart—as cliché as he was to admit it. Ace was thankful for a friend like the Prefect, and even more thankful for a lover like MC. His soft gaze turned back into the person in front of him, watching as they had slowly started to drift back to sleep; Ace knew he shouldn’t open his mouth, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “You never answered about that ‘in your bed every night’ thing. That still on?” 

“Shut up, Ace.” 

[mikobeautifulheart]

Hey I liked that fic you did on pervy megumi ❤ could you do it with yuji but make it a little sweeter ❤❤ty

Ahh I'm sorry this took so long because for the first time in history this is slightly more edited. I tried sweeter but honestly at this point I think i'm incapable of affection. I tried *sigh* sorry bout that.

Pervy Yuji (thoughts)

TW: pervert. Obsessed (Mildly) Some weird non consented touches but not smut. (or spicy sorry guys.)

No surprise that Yuji just can't get enough of you.

Every moment, ever opportunity, he takes it.

Y/N wanna train together? Y/N wanna study together?

Y/N Gojo sensei is making us pick partners for the sister school even, wanna be mine?

Its not just being together but also distance.

The fact that every training session ends a little too close together.

"Yuji your squishing me." You muffled trapped under Yuji's body...again.

"Ah sorry Y/N! I lost my footing there and couldn't keep my balance."

Out of training to.

"Sorry Y/n the train is getting a little crowded" he said trying to hide his face in his collar.

"Its not your fault Yuji"

Every bump of the train you felt his hand on places you usually would hit someone's hand away from... Good thing he looked so innocent or you wouldn't have brushed it off so easily.

But every time you brushed it off. Yuji is just trying his best you know? He's Sukuna's vessel and never even knew about curses until now, you had to cut him some slack.

Even if it had nothing to do with the Jujutsu world.

"Hey Yuji, did you happen to get my laundry by accident? I can't find it anywhere and Megumi said you were there last."

"Oh uh I can check but if it's not here do you need help looking?"

"Uh- thanks but no, its just some...it would be embarrassing I guess. You know what never mind I probably just misplaced it again sorry." You sigh and walk out the room.

It happens more often then you liked. Some clothes of yours would go missing and then you would find them where you last left them or in a basket near the laundry.

If only you checked his lower dresser draw filed with some of you clothes.

When they lose their scent they get put back and so the cycle continues.

"Your sick. And that's coming from me. The king of curses, I kill and eat people and i'm telling you your sick ha." Sukuna chuckled in his head.

"Shut up. Like you would understand." Yuji said climbing down from a tree across from your window.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: Omg I wrote this so long ago but it didn't save. But it's okay because I re-wrote it and it's way better now. Trust me (even tho the ending sucks a bit). Anyways have a good whatever time of day.

[longlivedelusion]

Hiker's Delight

Summary: Bucky takes you on a hike. That's it. That's the fic. Boyfriend! Bucky x Reader. Established Relationship.

Warnings: Just fluff and some mentions of post- Hydra trauma, but nothing too crazy. Will proper edit later!

A/N: Quick lil fic I wrote cause I've been just wanting more boyfriend! bucky, domestic life vibes. I need fluffy and comforting energy rn and this is that. Enjoy!!

Masterlist

I make my way up the hill, huffing as I grab onto a nearby rock to pull myself up.

Bucky's behind me, not out of breath at all, the damn super soldier and his stamina and-

"Hey, you doin' ok?" I hear from behind me, Bucky leaning against a nearby rock.

I nod, looking back ahead as I haul myself up. "This is just a bit more intense than I thought, I'll be okay though." I let out another grunt and I push another step. He's stayed behind me the whole time even though I'm going at a snail's pace, according to him I'd probably drop off and get lost if he lead the way.

"You sure you don't want-"

"No. You are not gonna carry me. I'm gonna finish *grunt* this *huff* damn hike with my own two feet." 

We pull forward, the slopes getting a bit more steep than I expected, which had me nearly sweating by the time we reached the edge. I looked up at the towering cliff knowing my arms were like jello, but I had to, needed to-

Bucky knelt down and held his hands out, a makeshift lift as he looked up at me. He quirked his brow.

"I can-" I start.

"Stop being stubborn and take the help doll. This cliff is a bit of a bitch, if you can't tell." He said waved his arm at the cliff to make a point.

I don't say anything and just sigh, knowing he was right. No use being overly stubborn about this. I prop my foot in his hands, griping where I could on the rock in front of me before Bucky said "Ready? 1... 2..."

And then I was up, the top of the rock pressed against my stomach as I hoisted myself over the rest of the way. I crawled forward, legs starting to feel a bit like jello now that I was on the ground. 

I watched as Bucky followed right after, easily pulling himself over like it was the easiest thing in the world. He stood up with ease, clearly not dealing with same jello legs as I just kind of collapsed on my back and took some deep breaths. 

"Ugh, this damn body. Why must it betray me so." My dramatic ass said.

"Because you just went on a pretty intensive hike with barely any training even though I offered to have you train with me for like 2 months."

My noodle arm managed to raise up and wave him off, "Semantics."

He chuckled, taking a seat beside me and brushing the sweaty strands of hair off my face. "Want some water?"

I nod, eyes closed as my breathing stedied, my body starting to relax and calm down from the overexertion. I heard a bottle cap untwist, making me open my eyes to see Bucky with some water in hand. 

"Come on, you can prop up against me if you want." He said, hand gently helping me upwards. I push myself up and shift over, my back now facing the soldier's chest as he hands me the bottle.

"Oh fuck that's good," I sigh, taking a long swig before passing it back over to Bucky. It takes me a moment, but after I blink a few times I finally realize the view before me.

Directly in front of us is the most beautiful mountain range I'd ever seen-- massive trees lining the edges of the mountainS, an eagle soaring overhead, and a huge, crystal blue lake smack dab in the center. So cut off from civilization, this untouched land surrounded my mountains and only Mother Nature as its mistress.

"Wow, this is-" I start, eyes wide as they tried to take in every detail. The lighting, the shades of green, the textures--all of it... "breathtaking."

"I'm glad you like it." Bucky said softly, his voice a soft tickle behind my ear. His arms wrapped around my waist, tucking me in a bit closer to him as I sat in awe.

"Even though I'm not the biggest hiking fan-"

"Huh, couldn't tell." Bucky joked.

"-oh hush. I was saying, even though I'm not the biggest hiker, I'm really glad you asked me to do this." I reached for his hands on my waist and gave them a small squeeze.

"Thanks for coming. I'd only ever been here alone before, and it was for a mission. So I'm glad I get to actually enjoy it, and with some pretty decent company while we're at it." He kissed the side of my head, a smirk pressed against my hair.

"Oh decent huh? Just decent?" I looked over into his blue eyes and saw they were already looking down at me. That shit-eating smirk plastered on his stupidly gorgeous face. "Says the man who practically begged to take me here."

He shrugged, "I don't remember begging."

"Oh? So all that whining and bribing with takeout was just a lapse in memory then?"

"Probably." He said, the nonchalance to his voice making me wanna shove and kiss his sarcastic ass all at once..

So I settle with a boop his nose and a scrunched smile. "Cheeky." I turn back to the view before me, settling back into Bucky. As I reached into my bag and pulled out the small lunch I'd packed prior, I heard a grumble behind me. "Hungry?" I ask.

"Just a bit." He chuckled lightly.

I pulled some of the sandwiches and some fruits out, grabbing one for myself and handing the other to Bucky. "I can't think of a prettier place I've ever eaten," I said, mouth half full as I took a bite of my sandwich.

He reached for some blueberries, arms brushing past mine as he hummed and popped them in his mouth. "I need to take you out more then. Can't let this be the peak of our relationship now can I?"

"I mean, as long as I can actually physically get to these places ok I'm down. My stubbornness can't handle another hike like this, or I'll try to climb Everest of something next time."

"Eh, Everest is overrated anyways." He said, taking another bite of food.

I turned around in shock, "Seriously? You climbed Everest?"

He had a cocky smile on his face as he nodded. "Yup. Was kidding about the overrated thing though. Impressed?"

"Um, yeah I'm impressed! But when, how, what was it like?" I rambled on. I couldn't believe this man I'd come to know and love still had stuff like this just to learn about. A whole lifetime to know. 

He put the bottle down, thinking for a bit. "About ten years ago, when I was still in..." He hesitated. Hydra. Something we both knew, understood in... Different ways. It didn't need to be said. "I remember bits and pieces, but it was cold as hell and windy. For a second there though, at the top of the mountain, I looked out and was me. Bucky. I didn't remember the last time I had been myself like that, and I just didnt know what to do but take a deep breath in, look out at the mountains. I sat there for... Fuck knows how long."

I set down my food and reached for his hand, my thumb tracing over the back as he spoke. "Is that why you like hiking and climbing so much?" 

He nodded, hand turning and holding mine. He looked at the metal hand below him intertwined with mine before he spoke. "It can always pull me out of whatever headspace I'm in, I don't know. When shit doesn't work and the day feels like hell, being out here just... Helps. It reminds me of who I was or could be. I don't know." He shrugged, looking away at the view.

I squeeze his hand, eyes tracing back to his face. "I think I can sort of understand. Not the hiking or climbing but... Being by the sea does the same for me. Helps me remember that I'm alive and here."

He nods, his gaze still in the horizon. "It's like, no matter how fucked up the world gets or I get, nature doesn't judge. She justs gets it and doesn't care. Doesn't care about who I am or what I've done."

"Because she just sees chaos and order and gets that both are important." I add, fingers still tracing along the side of his face slowly. "The rest of it doesn't really matter."

"Exactly."

We sit in silence for a moment before I shift Bucky's face towards me. His eyes lock onto mine in silent question. 

"Thank you for bringing me here. And sharing this with me."

He smiles as he leans down, a small kiss pressed against my lips before he let his forehead drop to mine. "Happy to."

"So where to next?" I ask, pulling back enough to look at him. "Another mountain? The desert? A tundra?"

"Actually, " he said, that cocky smile gracing his features again. "I got the perfect spot already in mind."

[its-in-the-woods]

Chapter five, Life's Too Short

Chapter one , two, three, four <- if you missed it.

Cooper howard/The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean

Post end of season 1

No beta.. I tried to edit ��

Ninety five percent written just tweaking

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

There will be canonically typical violence and eventually smut. Things will deviate from canon. Angst/fluff, self-hatred so on and so forth.

🚨+18 only - MDN🚨

Slow burn sorta kinda

Please be nice this is my first fic in almost a decade 🫣

Will eventually post on AO3 once I can get access... or where suggested 🤷🏻‍♂️ Like please tell me I am old and don't know things anymore.

“You asshole.” She whispered leaning down to kiss the top of his bald head  “I am not leaving you, I don’t care. You’re gonna wake up.” 

Grabbing a stim pack and painkillers she finally injected herself. The world is fading into darkness. 

***

The Ghoul groaned, a splitting migraine was a hell of a way to wake up. He blinked a few times expecting to find himself outside only to be met with grey and black. He was in a building, blinking a few more times he could see a slit of light from around the doors. He closed his eyes, groaning. What the fuck did he get up to last night, his foot moving to hear the clinking of glass viles. That was never a good sign. Opening his eyes again he tried to take stock of the space. Some kind of military warehouse maybe. 

Flashes of a Deathclaw exploding made his head spin. His left hand went up to rub over the spot where something had hit him. His fingers felt ridges of a good-sized hole that had started to heal over, probably why his right arm was still a little limp. It always took longer for the ligaments and what was left of his nerves to catch up. As he felt the hole his hand grazed over the top of his fingers. Freezing in place he forced his eyes look. Two bloody hands and arms were draped over him almost possessively. He went to push them away only to catch sight of a purple-grey finger. Lucy. Realization hit him as he was resting against her, the feeling of her heart pulsing against his back. She had made it and had dragged his ass the whole way.

Getting himself up proved tricky. The drugs were still making him a little woozy on his feet. Rubbing his face with his good hand he looked down at his companion. It was hard to tell with the lack of light but she looked pale and feverish sweat had broken out across her brow. Looking around he saw a light switch, chances of the lights working were low but he flipped it anyway. A small amount of light blinked on. Had to love fusion cores. It wasn’t a lot but enough for him to get a good look at the women. Crouching down he could see that her vault suit was covered in blood. A lot of blood and it wasn’t all his. 

He needed to lay her down and see what was going on. He eased her down as best as he could with one arm. Her left thigh was full of birdshot, and the top part of her right shoulder had a gaping wound. Getting her wounds clean would be vital if he wanted Lucy to live. He tried the zipper but between the blood and dirt, it wasn’t moving. Rummaging into his saddle bag he pulled out a smaller knife, one usually used for making some ass jerky. Taking the curved edge he ran it down beside the zipper opening it up. Pushing the sticky clothing away from her was tricky, everything kept snagging. Growling he gave up and used the knife to cut the rest of the suit off. It would be useless to her now with all the holes anyway. 

He examined the wounds. The shoulder wound was long and ragged but it would be fine with stitches and some gauze. What was really concerning was the puss-filled, bright red wounds on her thigh. He’d need to dig whatever she’d been shot with out. As he dragged the suit out from her he noticed holes in the back of it, rolling her limp body over he saw that her back was covered in a mapwork of marks. They were just as red and pusy as her thigh. He ungloved his hands and could feel how hot the skin was. 

“Fuckin ‘umb-ass smoothskin’.” Ghoul hissed out. “Gonna end up lookin’ like me.”

He grabbed everything he could, the linen bag full of various meds was also dragged over. He took out a thin metal skewer and the same skinning knife. He cut the rest of her top and bra off so he had better access to the work ahead. At the same time, he hit her with two shots of med-x for good measure. He did not want her waking up while he did this. Torture wasn’t what he was looking to do right now. A non-moving body would be the easiest way to clean up this disaster. He doused everything in some moonshine and began to work. Halfway through the process his right arm finally started to cooperate. Once her back was done he poured the moonshine over the wounds. Grabbing the last stimpak he shot her up with that. Rolling her back over his eyes didn’t stray. Well not entirely. It was hard not to look at the sprawled-out naked women. He licked his lips and went back to the thigh, it had far less shrapnel but it was deeper. Blood seeped out, the smell made his mouth wet. The thought of running his tongue over the wounds made his fingers itch. He grabbed the inhaler and took a puff. 

“Get the job done, fuckin’ monster,” He growled at himself fishing out the next few pieces of debris. 

He sat back on his ass taking a swig of moonshine and another puff of chem. He rubbed at Dogmeat ears, the dog had been watching silently except for a few whines when Lucy would stir. The Vualtie was currently hooked up to some RadAway and covered in several different pieces of clothing. Most of them came off the skeletons that dotted through the warehouse. He needed to take stock of what they had, and where they were. His head spun a bit. He could still smell her blood on his hands. The girl had dragged him across the damn desert after blowing up a Deathclaw. He rubbed his bare head with a clean hand, realizing that somewhere along the way he had lost his hat.

“Should have left me,” He said out loud, still scratching Dogmeat. “What the fuck did I ever do for you to drag me all the way here. Save my ass, again. Stupid girl. Told you to leave me in the sand. Got to start saving your own ass. Cute as it is. Can’t be watchin' you die out there cause of me.”

He looked around the room, saddle bag, Lucy’s pack, the mostly empty med bag, a bunch of empty syringes, and a whole lot of tattered clothes. He had vials, some water, and not a whole lot else. Lucy stirred a bit mumbling in her sleep, they wouldn’t be moving anywhere for at least a day if not more. The Ghoul plus he missed his hat. As silly as it was, he had had it for so long that it felt wrong to not have it. With a reluctant sigh, he got himself up. His right arm still was struggling to cooperate, but at least he had some mobility. He put on a new shirt, slipped his bandoleer over his head, gun placed firmly in its holster.

Walking to the door he opened it, the smell of rain hit him, the sting of radiation tinged on his skin. Storm must have passed over while they were out, at least they had missed that. Looking out over the sand there was almost no sign they had even been out there. If he peered out he could see the edge of the cliff they had run to. He figured they’d probably made a direct line to this building. So if he headed back that way, the chance of him finding his hat and possibly whoever Lucy had pilfered from was high. 

He rubbed Dogmeat’s ears. “You’re going to stay here girl. Watch’er, I won’t be long.” 

The sand was hot as ever, he was still moving a little slower than he’d have liked. At least he was moving. His mind was trying to piece together the night before. Or had it been longer? His hat was stuck to an old dead cactus. Pulling it off he brushed the dust and needles off before placing it back on his head. As he continued to walk he also found Lucy’s shoes. Why she had taken them off was beyond him. Peering back towards the ridge he made out what looked like an upturned cart. Moving that way he came across what was left of the traveler. Bits and pieces of body lay strewn across the sand. Bits of ash were still near the center where a fire must have been. Deathclaw He thought absently, big fuckers were the scorn of the Mojave. Not as many as there used to be, but enough to make them a giant pain in his side. He rubbed at the scar, he could have looked like these poor unfortunate souls. 

Scouring the place he found a couple of canteens of water, and a bag full of dried fruit and meat. Whoever these folks were, they had been well stocked. The wagon was covered in blood and gore, he tangled up some rope. It was always good to have on hand. As he went to go a long call came out of the waste. Standing about a hundred yards from him stood a Brahma. Tail flicked back and forth as it ate some scrub grass. 

“You got to be the luckiest damn cow alive.” The Ghoul chuckled, he wandered over to the creature. Making a makeshift halter out of some of the pilfered rope. “You are going to come in handy.” 

***

The Ghoul slipped inside the warehouse, cow was tied to an old lamp post. If all went well they could trade it when they got to the next outpost. Brahma where not common and often fetched a fair amount of caps. Caps meant lodging, food, and most important chems. 

He sent Dogmeat out to watch the thing, the last thing he needed was their food ticket to get eaten by a roving critter. Walking over he took a look at Lucy, the girl was still pale but not nearly as bad as when he had left. 

She stirred a bit, her eyebrows furrowed together a wretched cough spilling out of her. The Ghoul crouched down at her side. She had gone from being on fire to being cool to the touch. He grabbed the bed roll from her backpack, laying it on top of her. He smoothed the hair out of her eyes, it had grown longer since they started walking. Lucy stirred her eyes looking up at him, those big damn eyes. Her hand slipped from under the fabric and grabbed at his. 

“I am so cold.” She whispered out, her voice sounding raw and cracked. He grabbed her flask of water, it was almost out. He pressed it against her lips and let her drink. 

She coughed again, her hand not letting go of his. Lucy pulled at his fingers, her eyes flickering shut as the young thing fought to keep herself awake. “Don’t be so stubborn.” She choked out trying to meet this gaze. “Please, I need to be warm.”

Cooper blinked at her, his drug-addled brain finally processing what she was asking. He let himself lay down on his better arm. He unbuttons his shirt some so she could lay directly on top of him. It wasn’t like he felt the cold much, but he could feel how cold she was. He moved the material and dragged the Vault-dweller against his chest. Her shuddering breath made him hesitate for a moment before he felt her cold hands wrap around him dragging herself closer. He bundled up some torn-up clothes and stuffed them under their heads. The girl sagged against him humming slightly as she pressed her lips against his scared chest. 

Maybe he had died. The Deathclaw had to have eaten him, or he was still high on drugs or needed more drugs. More drugs could never be a bad thing, right? No way in all the wasteland, in all two hundred-plus years of being on this damn planet did he think he’d have a Vualtie curled up against his chest giving him. Tiny kisses? He did his best not to laugh out loud at the ridiculous situation. Too scared to move and wake this living daydream.

He couldn’t sleep, even with Dogmeat standing outside the door. If he let himself sleep it would mean he’d wake up with her gone. He was a no-good bounty-hunting piece of shit. He had done some fucking terrible things to just about anyone who had crossed him. Fuck, he regularly ate other people. He used the Vaultdweller as bait, cut off her fingers, and sold her for Chems. But as he felt her breath against his chest, her heartbeat with his. None of that seemed to matter. He knew he should slide out from under her, let her rest and recover. But when something good in the wasteland came it was better to hold onto it, even if it was only for a second. 

***

Everything ached, a deep well of ache overflowing like the water she desperately wanted. The warmth she was currently surrounded by helped with that. It was the first time she could remember being somewhat comfortably warm. Even at the hotel, she had not felt comfortable like this. It wasn’t like being out in an irradiated wasteland under the sun. No this felt like being in a hot shower or cuddled under a blanket with hot tea. Her fingers traced over the rough surface of-. Her brain connected the like plugging in a lightbulb. Eyes opened just a crack to see that, yes, she was lying on top of the Ghoul. No, not the Ghoul. Cooper. The man she had dragged across the desert. The man she thought had died because she decided to throw a grenade that she stole from a vendor without telling him. She closed her eyes again. Part of her wanted to stay right here. But part of her also needed to move so that her aching bones would possibly stop yelling at her. 

She opened her eyes and drummed her fingers against his bare chest. In an attempt to gain his attention without him shoving her away. She looked up to see him looking back at her. Those gold eyes were not blown wide like before, they were focused on her. If he had had eyebrows they would have been raised. 

“Warm ‘nough yet?” The man growled his voice rumbling against her. 

She shook her head, biting her lip and looking away as her cheeks flushed. The man chucked his leathery hands rubbing against her bare shoulders. Another lightbulb. She was stark naked. 

“Where are my clothes?” She whispered quietly, almost trying to hide herself underneath the pile of material.

“Had to cut them off,” He said as if it was no big deal. “You soaked them with blood, I couldn’t get the zipper down.”

Her stomach flipped at the thought of him cutting them off. Part of her wished she had been able to see that. 

“Didn’t think you were going to make it for a little while,” When did his voice get so soft? 

“I thought you were dead.” She whispered her fingers, finding the now healed wound. “It didn’t want to heal. I kept giving you drugs and nothing would happen. Thought for sure I had killed you.”

The Ghoul chucked a small smirk crossing his face. “Can’t get rid of me, that easy sweetheart. Pretty sure you blowing up a Deathclaw saved our asses. Was good aim.”

Lucy smiled at the compliment, “I will give you more of a heads-up next time. Maybe you could teach me about what other monsters are out here.”

He grunted a reply shifting slightly. Lucy realized he was probably uncomfortable, she had no clue how long she’d been out. She moved a bit sliding off the man’s chest, she grabbed the bedroll and covered herself as best she could. Cooper groaned a bit, his joint clicking and cracking as he sat himself up. The same crooked smile plastered on his face, it was near predatory. 

Lucy looked down at her bare feet. Damn, she had forgotten to grab her boots. Cooper had stood up stretching his slim body. His skin looked closer to lizards, tight but it still stretched as he groaned, twisting back and forth. She longed to feel that textured skin under her hands again. Instead, the two of them turned away Lucy grabbing clothes that kind of fit and pulling them on. They’d need to get something better at the next outpost. Her jumpsuit on the other hand was completely done. Between mud, blood, and hundreds of holes it wasn’t worth trying to save. Her boots clattered to the floor beside her. 

“Found them with my hat you conveniently forgot,” Cooper grumbled as he buttoned up his shirt. 

Lucy was moving before she thought about it. If she thought about it too long she’d stop herself, right now it didn’t matter. Her fingers ran over his back and he stood up looking down at her. Lucy’s hands came up cup his textured face leaning up on her toes she kissed him. His whole body went rigid. Lucy pulled back his eyes wide. Oh, she had messed up. 

He immediately pulled away from her, his eyes covered by his hat. Lucy went to move towards him again but he puts up a hand between them.

“Stop.” The Ghoul growls. “It’s just the drugs. Give yourself time to wake up.”

Lucy scrunches up her face and pushes his hand out of the way. “Do not tell me it’s just the drugs.”

She gets right up into his face, forcing herself to stare up into the hollows of his eyes. “You are all I have. I thought you were dead. You giant-t-” Lucy grumbles her fist clenching at her side. “I thought I killed you. And you know what, I didn’t want to keep going. I don’t care what you think of me, or what you think of yourself. But this-” She gestures between the two of them, “Is what we got. We got each other, and gosh darn it. I want to kiss you.”

Cooper looks down at her, his face tight as she stares him down. “You don’t want this Lucy. I am glad you’re alive. But you don’t want this. I am no good, I’ve been around longer than most have been alive. I’ve done things that would make you want to put a bullet between my-"

“Fuck you.” Lucy spits, she can see his shock at the curse. “I killed four men saving you, and probably an animal too. I didn’t even hesitate, I cut them open and shot them up so that-that thing would eat them instead of us. I don’t give two mating pigrats what you’ve done.”

He looked down at her his face falling at her words. “You should have left me in the sand."

“No. No. You don’t get to tell me what I do or want anymore. I may be some greenhorned Vaultdweller but I am sure as heck not taking any of that from you.”

“Lucy-” He whispered out, she could see he was trying his damnest to hold back.

“I don’t care what you did. I care about what you do right now. If you want I will leave. Go on my own. But you and I both know that neither of us wants that.”

She can feel his body relax, and take the moment to move herself closer to him. Her hands reaching up to cup his face. “You don’t have to be strong with me. ”

His eyes close and he leans against her hand. She can feel how warm he is under her touch, she rubs her fingers over his rough face. It feels more like melted wax than callouses.  Cooper sighs and looks down at her. 

“If you want this-” His eyes scanned her face, looking for some kind of disgust. “I don’t know if I will be able to let you go.”

Lucy’s face breaks into a grin, “I’d like to see you try and keep me.”

Last chapter

-I thought about ending it here but decided to write some smut cause fckit

-I think the next chapter will be the last.. as I have some other stuff I want to play with

-Let me know if you enjoyed it! if you have ideas whatever strikes your fancy

[griefabyss69]

WIP - teach me how 2 kill a bad guy

Hey! This is my most recent WIP, I thought I'd share a piece of what I have so far : ) I plan on completing it and posting it to my ao3 when it's done.

I've tried a different kind of narration where it's more of an Eddie stream of consciousness than a third person telling a story, but I also haven't edited any of this yet so I'm not sure how much that comes through.

------

Stranger Things - Steddie - Rated: E (for sexual content, though this post actually doesn't have any in it)

Themes: D&D, roleplaying, LARPing, getting together

Summary: Steve gets Eddie to show him how to play D&D and takes Eddie's introductory campaign in a direction he's never gone before.

------

He goes and wrings his hands where he stands at the kitchen table, a big one now that they live somewhere with more space, his big D&D Manual and a few other books and a lot of paper neatly aligned across it in a way he never does.

He hates the waiting. Steve's not even late yet, he's just unable to go and do something else and focus on it while he knows he'll be showing up soon. So all he has is his mind, the one that's dutifully catching him up on all of the crazy shit his life has done lately, giving him the worst time to start actually freaking out that Steve's coming over and Eddie's sharing one of the biggest loves of his life with him.

If Steve's a dick about anything he knows he can just make him leave, but he knows it'd still hurt a lot. He can take the rejections he creates himself, the logical conclusion to acting and dressing in certain ways, but this is something Steve asked him to offer up on a platter, like offering up his neck to a vampire, and he said yes to Steve's vampire bit- he said yes to uh, Steve and D&D, not any sexy neck stuff-

Reign in your fucking metaphors, Christ.

This is more like a cat rolling over to show it's belly to someone it trusts, hoping that they don't get attacked for it, anyway. It suits better because Eddie knows exactly what it's like to have his guts gnawed on, but the bats never really seduced him into being a human juice box. Go figure.

And in the back of his mind, he knows he'd like it if Steve bit his ne-

The doorbell rings and he jumps, feeling more like a Halloween cat now, fur all pulled up and ready to hiss in his surprise. Maybe if he keeps the cat metaphors coming he can get through today without thinking about Steve's nice hair or whatever his greatest feature is supposed to be.

He tries to do that breathing thing Robin taught him that apparently works for her, but he just wheezes every time. It's probably not for smokers, or he's doing it wrong or something.

Get the fucking door, Eddie. You can do it.

So he practically rips the door off of it's hinges, except he's still got weirdness in his body from beating death and months of big injuries, so it bumps against the wall pathetically. He shakes out his hands and opens the screen door carefully, forcing a smile onto his face so he can greet the guy making his stomach regret it's existence.

"Welcome, welcome," he says, stepping out of the way and gesturing for Steve to come in. "Shoes off at the door, otherwise make yourself at home."

Steve shoots him an amused look and kicks his shoes off, using a foot to knock them together neatly.

Eddie closes the doors in a really normal way, which is a fucking relief.

"Hey," he says, always sounding so cool despite the fact that he stopped being cool like at least two years ago.

Eddie nods back at him, counting two seconds to take in how he looks before he forces himself to head back into the kitchen.

"I figured it'd be easier to set up at the table, even if the chairs were made by Satan himself," he says, looking up once he's standing by the seat he already chose.

Steve's fucking backlit by a window again, the sunset shining in on him beautifully like a blessing from an angel of hairspray or something. Bastard.

He laughs, another beautiful thing that beams out and washes over Eddie. He doesn't even need to roll over, he's already done for.

Ever since the anniversary party, it had been too hard to keep placing denial up around himself like a brick cabin, especially when Steve came around and turned it all into wet cardboard anyway, and so he's really just taking him in unfiltered, a horrible decision he didn't really get to make.

"It's not Satan's fault he only knows how to make chairs that torture people," Steve says, choosing to sit right next to Eddie. It's fine. Now he won't have to try to gaze into his beautiful eyes a totally normal amount. "I think it was nice of him to give you a housewarming gift."

Eddie chokes on a hysterical giggle, super happy to sit down and cough instead of let that come out of his mouth, shifting around to try to get comfortable on the hard wooden chair.

"You're right," he says, distributing some paper and a pencil and some dice to Steve. "I'm being ungrateful."

Steve's smile is even gorgeous when he's got his mouth closed, nice lips curving up in a complement to the rest of his nice face.

Eddie's like two seconds away from taking the largest book on this table and trying to knock himself out with it. Fucking focus!

"So, I'm sure you've picked up on some of this stuff by now," he says, pulling the manual closer and flipping it open to the first useful page. "But we're going to pretend you've only just heard of the game a minute ago and begged me to teach you. That way it'll all be linear and understandable, instead of whatever convoluted super-genuis way of describing it you've heard from the gremlins."

Steve looks at the book warily, panic briefly flashing over his face before he seems to collect himself. He's about to say something friendly and reassuring when he opens his outrageous mouth again and shoots Eddie in the dick.

"I don't remember having to beg for it," he says, smirking.

Horrible.

Maybe Steve's getting cold feet and now wants to distract him with one of the only things that possibly could draw his attention away. But Steve's not supposed to know that, so he drums his fingers on the book and desperately ignores the heat in his face.

"What can I say? I'm a generous guy," he replies, watching the edge of Steve's mouth twitch before he forces his eyes back down to the manual.

"So for learning purposes we're going to use characters I've already got, but if you like this then I'll teach you how to make one yourself. It's one of the best parts of the game, I think."

Eddie feels it when Steve stops looking at him, making him relax a little bit in relief. His stare isn't a burden but it's heavy, and makes him feel like Steve's reading his mind. Before, he would've thought that's impossible and it would've been reassuring even if the weighty stare of a hot guy was still enough to get him flustered, and Now, he knows that anything is possible if the government tortures enough people about it.

He hands Steve a character sheet and doesn't think about the ones in his room, hidden away from him because they're all a bit incriminating, both about gay shit and about Steve in particular.

"So you've played this one before?" Steve asks, looking down at it.

"Hmm?" Eddie looks up from where he was looking over the character he'd be playing, shaking his head. "No, I made that for today, just as an example."

Steve nods slowly, eyebrows furrowing as he looks over the numbers. Eddie has a bunch of photocopies of a template for this, but he's written all of the names for the abbreviated stats underneath them. Normally he wouldn't, and normally he certainly wouldn't have written other little notes on the page to give more context for what everything is for, but���

He really wants Steve to get it, and for him to like it, and maybe like Eddie. Sue him.

"Thanks for doing all of this," Steve says, putting the sheet down so he can do something cruel, like give Eddie his full attention again. "I do really appreciate it, and I know I'm going to probably be the worst you've ever seen at it."

"Nah, that's a high bar, honestly," Eddie lies, winking at him. "As long as you're patient, I'll be patient."

He's not about to fucking discourage him from this.

Steve's smile is like the sunbeams all over again, and in an act of self preservation, he gets to work, starting to explain things for real.

-----

Let me know if you enjoyed it!

[astorythatwritesitself]

You mentioned wanting to flesh the crew out more so your choice of Normandy crew for 🌱🖤 ✍️ & 🍄

Normandy crew:

🌱 Nature- Kaiden, sadly, never saw very much ground action during the SR1 days- similar to Liara, when it came to combat teams, Shepard provided solid biotic capabilities and either needed heavier fire backup or dedicated tech expertise. But, he did appreciate that she kept him in mind, often bringing back samples from non-radioactive mineral deposits- they always got a laugh over her handing over a chunk of gold or platinum in particular. While Kaiden had spent a good bit of his life on earth, his experiences on Jump Zero left him particularly sentimental to keeping reminders of... maybe not Earth, specifically, but solid ground nearby; he was pretty good at identifying various rocks and minerals, and often assists ship-side on the surveys.

(When Mordin shares about his time on stage, Shepard actually gets a little... not weepy, but it's not a completely happy laugh, when she says 'a friend of mine tried teaching me the elements to that tune')

🖤: yeah actually I've been here for like an hour, I got nothing lol. I'll try to work on one & will edit/reblog and tag if I do?

✍️ Education: Wrex was among the last generation of krogan who got an education that halfway included anything beyond hard combat focus, and his favorite subjects as a whelp were history and literature; particularly where the two came together in epic sagas, and he has extremely strong opinions on word choice and structuring damn it. He tries to keep reading after leaving Tuchanka, but it gets pushed to the backburner: most surviving older krogan regard it as a waste of time, and the few children born just... don't get the point of it. So he's... really surprised when, on the Normandy, Adrian extends what is clearly a token invitation of 'hey, Ash is starting a book club, want to join', and he figures why the hell not?

It's part of what kicks his conviction to return to Tuchanka- human literature was surprisingly nice, but then he got the chance to share something. Chose the story of a small, loyal band protecting their clan leader from a hostile uprising- not a major battle, but he liked it because it was one that was verifiable and was just plain beautiful, exemplifying a true leader fighting honorably at the head of the battle, demonstrating strength of will to survive over complete brute force, something that seems to have been lost over time.

The humans loved it (Ashley immediately suggested he check out some Tennyson), but it was also the first time he'd really felt that kind of... passion, again, turns out a long life just means longer depressive funks. And goddamn it, the krogan were better- are better, whatever anyone may think- they have culture, they have beauty, and like hell is he going to let that get pissed away.

(After Grunt is officially welcomed into Clan Urdnot, Wrex sends him a few books- a personally curated collection of krogan works of course, but there's ultimately a novel or collection of verse from every major species, just to make sure the kid has variety.)

🍄 Cooking/food: Jack spends a ton of time around the mess early in. She's- look even before prison, she was not well cared for and she was probably never fed enough, especially considering the toll her biotics would take (in fact, Chakwas puts her foot down on Jack doing any groundwork for a solid bit of time, because her body is basically on the verge of eating itself alive for a while). It evens out though, but she's still often raiding whatever eatables she can because there's that very loud, distinct instinct that it's not going to last and at least she can be in good shape before getting kicked out.

Everyone notices, but it's Rupert of all people who takes action first. Tells her she can at least make a sandwich instead of stealing energy bars. (Jack thinks, why not both, because she's been targeting Miranda's favorites and it's hilarious seeing her get frustrated.)

But she also, with plenty of complaining and name-calling on either side, decides fuck it might as well, and it might be a good skill- if she makes her own food, with her own ingredients, she can be extra sure it's not going to be drugged or something. And then it turns out to be fun (she's encouraged to set something on fire? Fuck yes), and it's great to lord over Commander 'I can save the galaxy but am banned from kitchens for life and death' Shepard. And she can threaten the crew with getting thrown across the entire second floor if they don't eat what she's made! Which is, of course, the only reason they do so, and the ones saying it's actually good are just brown-nosing. Sucks for them, just means she's going to keep doing it until someone cracks!

[mercy-burning]

Good Little Helper

Pairing: Season 5! Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader gets assigned to be Spencer’s personal assistant of sorts after he gets shot in the knee. Category: SMUT(18+) Content Warnings: fingering (female receiving), blowjob, praise kink, dirty talk, blink and you’ll miss it cumplay Word Count: 4.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: So, remember yesterday when I posted about how I wished new ideas would stop distracting me from everything I’m currently working on? Yeah. This wouldn’t leave me alone, and I couldn’t work on anything until I got it out of my head, so here! Have a fic! (It was supposed to be a blurb, but I got a little long-winded so now it’s too long to be a blurb oops 😙✌) Also, I apologize for any editing mistakes, I just wrote this out in one go, so hopefully it’s alright!

***

Being assigned to assist Dr. Reid with practically his every need after he was shot in the knee wasn't exactly how I expected to spend the past few months.

And that's, like... a huge understatement.

In fact, when Agent Hotchner came up to me in the break room and said he'd like me to do the job, I dropped my coffee and shattered a mug. I could tell he was a little impatient with me, even through his kind reassurances that it was quite all right as he helped me clean it up and waited for an answer.

In the end I'd said yes to the job, though the more I thought about it the more I wondered how much lust and naivete had clouded my judgement when I did.

Because there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to survive weeks, possibly months, as Spencer Reid's assistant. Not only because he was intimidatingly intelligent and there was almost nothing I could offer him in decent conversation, but also—and more prominently—the fact that I was pretty sure I was in love with him.

Maybe that was a stretch. I definitely had a stupid major crush on him that felt more like we were in middle school, but I could barely look at him without going warm all over. In fact, I think we had only ever made eye contact once and I averted my gaze immediately, afraid I'd give myself away. If I'd have held it any longer, I was positive I'd have burst into flames.

He'd tried talking to me once, a few months after I started working at the Bureau, and it was only to ask if I'd send some files over to their tech analyst, Penelope Garcia, but when I tried answering, I stumbled over my words and ended up only getting out a squeaked, "Uh huh," before taking the files from him and scurrying off.

I almost cried that day.

Basically every time I was in his presence, I was a total wreck. Even more so than I was on any other given day.

Being his assistant did get fairly easy pretty early on, though. I mostly just stayed out of his way while he worked, and if he need anything that he could've gotten himself if not for the injury, it was my job to get it for him. I worked on my own paperwork most of the time, and he was always busy working on geographical profiles and whatever else, we only ever really had to talk when he asked for something. And that only required a, "Sure," on my end, so I could just get up, get what he needed, and then go back to work.

Still, it didn't help that sometimes I'd get distracted.

He was very distracting.

I usually waited until I was sure he was so busy in work that I wouldn't get caught. And that's when I'd peek over my computer or hide behind a book and stare at him. I know that sounds creepier than it is, but if you had to spend almost every hour of the day with him, you'd have done the same. Even though for months he was put on rest from the field, he always showed up looking more like a college professor than an FBI agent. Which, I suppose suited him more anyway. Regardless, it was a damn fine look. His hair was decently long and extremely pretty, and when he got the cane?

I was a goner.

It was at that point, though, when I started to realize that he probably wouldn't need my help anymore. He'd been allowed back into the filed by then, and even when I went with them on cases it still felt like I was more out of place than usual. Sure, I'd picked up on some minor skills that aided in profiling and otherwise, but at the end of the day I was still only a desk clerk. Sooner or later, I knew there would be a time where Agent Hotchner would inevitably tell me that I'd done a good job and could return to my menial day job.

So, even though Dr. Reid and I had gotten into a pretty regular, non-awkward rhythm, I was being a little more squirrely than usual.

And of course, he noticed.

"Y/N, are you doing alright?" he asked, looking up from his stack of paperwork. That was another thing we'd ended up doing— late into the night after everyone had gone home, we stayed late in the conference room and quietly filled out paperwork.

I barely looked him in the eye when I answered. "O—Oh, mhm. I'm fine."

"Oh... You just seem... a little different today."

On any other day I would have freaked out on the inside like a teenager, excited that he'd noticed me at all enough to notice a difference in my behavior. But that was his job after all.

"Actually, you seem rather... sad."

I did look up at him this time, and the soft glow of the table lamp lit up his features— features that looked me over with concern. I could feel my face grow warmer with every second I looked at him, until I quickly looked back down at my paper and shook my head.

"N—No, I'm okay. Promise. Just a little tired, that's all."

Usually he would have left it at that, given we didn't ever really have longer conversations than that that didn't pertain to whatever case the BAU was working on. But he pushed further, and I swallowed.

"Are you sure? Because... You can tell me if there's something wrong. I'm a good listener..."

Did I dare tell him what was really plaguing me? That I was scared I wasn't going to be able to spend time with him every day, thus most likely giving away my crush? That is, if he hadn't already figured it out by this point... Truthfully it wouldn't have surprised me.

The thought made me go warm again, and still, I kept my head down.

"I'm sure..."

And then I did something I probably shouldn't have. I looked back up at him, just a quick glance, but under his intense gaze I crumbled, flitting my eyes back down and playing with my hands.

"Is it... because of me?"

Afraid suddenly that I'd made him feel bad, I straightened a little. "No! No, not at all I... Um... I—I guess I'm just... A little sad that I'm probably... not going to be of any help to you anymore. You know, now that you're healing up."

A small smile flashed over his face, and I inwardly melted.

"Oh... In that case I... I guess I'm sad, too."

"Really?" I asked softly, my heart jumping.

"Mhm," he answered back in earnest. His features were softer than they'd ever been, eyes wide and kind, smile inviting... "You've been a great help. And you're fun to be around."

I couldn't help but smile shyly at his confession, completely bewildered that he'd think of me as someone he'd enjoyed being around, though I'd offered just about nothing interesting to any conversation we'd had. "Y—You don't mean that..."

"I do."

"C'mon, really? I... I—mean... coming from you that's... that's too generous."

He laughed a little. "How do you mean?"

"I... Well, y—you're you... I mean, you're... smart, and nice, and cu— uh,... n—nice..." I stumbled hard on that last one, squeezing my eyes shut at the thought of almost calling him cute to his face... And then I realized I'd called him nice two times... in a row.

I hadn't even realized he'd gotten up and walked over to me until I felt his cane gently tap my leg. I jumped, looking up at him and almost crumbled again right then and there. He stood over me, tall and clearly amused, and I wanted to just curl up and hide where no one would ever find me.

I also didn't want to be craning my neck so far up to see him, so I stood up, sending my chair rolling back a foot or two. The added height was better, but he was still fiarly taller than me, and with the way were standing so close to each other?

Maybe I'd made a mistake...

"I—I'm sorry," I stammered.

Still amused, Spencer tilted his head a small amount. "What for?"

"I... I don't know, m—making this awkward?"

"It's not awkward."

"It... It's not?"

He shook his head, quiet for a few beats before he nearly whispered. "What were you going to say?"

I paused. "I... What?"

"Before... You said I was smart. And nice... And... What else?"

It sounded like he was trying to get me to confess something, and quite honestly I couldn't tell if it was for humiliation or amusement or clarification purposes. I mean, it was probably safe to assume he wouldn't go out of his way to humiliate me, but... it still made me nervous.

"I—I didn't... I..."

"Y/N... Tell me?"

I'd been cornered. Quite literally, too, as my lower back hit the edge of the table. My hands shook anxiously at my sides as I contemplated what to say. The truth? Embarrassing for me. A lie? I was no good at telling lies, and I'd still end up embarrassed, because he'd be able to tell.

So, after a very long silence in which he waited on me to answer, I blurted out, as quietly as possible, "Cute."

The word sounded juvenile coming from my mouth. Right now, standing under Dr. Reid's intense scrutiny, it didn't even feel like the right word to describe him. Not that it wasn't true... But it just wasn't an elegant enough descriptor for him.

And that alone probably proved just how different we were. How out of my league he was...

"That's what I thought you were going to say," he mused, slightly breaking me out of my self-deprecation.

I would have asked him something then, anything to keep myself from looking like even more of a fool with a childish schoolgirl crush, but all words escaped me entirely. All I could do was look up at him, slowly growing warm under the intensity of his eyes and praying he wouldn't think of me as silly.

Though, it wouldn't have mattered, because he kept talking anyway, his body taking up even more space around me as his arms came around to well and truly trap me against the table.

"You're right, you know... I'm almost completely healed, and pretty soon I think I won't need an assistant anymore."

I was scared that maybe I was wrong before, and he'd actually humiliate me now, though the look in his eyes suggested otherwise. I wasn't sure what to make of all of it. SO I just stood there, trying to breath steadily as Spencer studied my face.

"And I meant it... That makes me sad. You know why?"

I shook my head, afraid to make a sound.

His head dipped lower, close enough that I could feel his breath on my mouth as he spoke. "I probably won't get to see you every day."

"Y—you want to see me?" I couldn't help but ask.

He scanned my eyes, amusement and something else lingering there as he did. "Yes."

And then he kissed me.

It was a short distance, but it felt like we went far. And I hadn't even registered that I whimpered into his mouth until he returned it with a low groan that boiled my insides and absolutely melted me. I was helpless against him as he pressed himself further against me and used his hands to keep my back steady.

The whole time my mind was swimming with dizziness. It felt like my body was covered in butterflies from head to toe, particularly strong where his hands pressed into me and his cane rested firmly along the inside of my thigh.

I leaned forward when he pulled away, because I was afraid that he was saying goodbye. But one of his hands came up to my face and my eyes fluttered open, immediately taking notice of how messy his hair was now that I'd had my fingers in it.

I must have looked scared, because suddenly his eyes changed, and he removed his hands away from me altogether, putting distance in between us. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you without asking..."

The relief that rushed through my body must have gotten to my head, because I breathed out a demand I'd never have had the courage to get out before.

"Do it again."

One second I was staring at him, admittedly afraid that he'd regretted all of it, and the next I was seeing stars as he came forward and kissed me again. His hands cradled my face as he did so, coming on to me with gentle care while still maintaining that hunger that surprised and excited me.

I hadn't realized how much I missed his touch until he'd given it back to me, my body once again melting into him and allowing him to do whatever it is that pleased him.

Apparently that was lifting my leg off the ground and making me sit on the table.

My body went along with it easily, and I was glad for it because my brain was nothing but mush, unable to process fully how he'd decided that I was worth kissing. All I really knew was that I wanted him. Anything he wanted from me, I was willing to give. And that must have come across very clearly, because when he pulled away and spoke to me, I whimpered at his words.

"Y/N... You've been such a good girl, helping me with whatever I needed these past few months..." Meanwhile his hand danced along the hem of my skirt, the tiny brushes of his skin against mine sending me into a mess of shivers.

"I think it's about time I've thanked you for all your help, don't you think?"

The implications in his tone made me whine again, and I pressed my forehead into his, our noses brushing as I answered. "Please."

I was so taken by the way he groaned as his lips connected with mine once more that I almost didn't realize that his hand was now fully up my skirt, his fingers drawing gentle lines over my panties and practically making me melt again. His hungry kisses contradicted the softness he took to my clothed cunt, a fact that warmed me to my core and made me want him more than ever.

When he slipped the fabric aside and ran the pad of his finger through me, I whined hard against his mouth, something that must have excited him— He nipped at my bottom lip and took a deep breath.

"How long have you wanted this, Princess?"

If not for the kissing and the finger slowly sliding up through my arousal, the nickname would have done me in. By now I was an utter wreck, but I somehow still managed to answer, even through a little stammering. "F—Forever."

It was the best I could come up with.

He breathed a laugh as his finger circled my clit. "That's a long time..."

"Uh huh," was all I could manage in response. My body and my brain were too focused on the things his finger was doing to my body, involuntarily rolling my hips forward for more. I needed more.

Thankfully he picked up on my urgency and reciprocated with slipping his middle finger inside me, one knuckle, then two...

I cried out as my head lurched forward, connecting our mouths once again. My hands clutched around his neck and my fingers tugged at his hair to keep myself from falling, because the slow, searing pace at which he fingered me made me wonder how I'd still been able to breathe.

He added another finger soon enough, picking up the pace and rendering me practically useless in his embrace. Meanwhile I registered the sound of his own little whines, still deeper than mine but little enough to tip me off that he was enjoying this just as much as I was, and that alone helped get me further along in pleasure.

I pulled my mouth from his reluctantly, squeezing my eyes shut as I allowed my forehead to rest against his. "D—Doctor, I'm c... I'm so close."

"His honorific falling breathlessly from my mouth seemed to do something sinister to him, because his fingers sped up and his breathing got heavier.

"Yeah? You gonna come for me, Princess?"

My stomach tightened and I nodded as best as I could, relishing in the sounds coming from below us, wet and downright filthy.

"Go ahead...Be a good girl and come for me... You deserve it..."

Each little sentence was punctuated with a slightly faster pace, each one bringing me closer and closer until I squeaked into his mouth and shook violently around his fingers, my vision going white. My legs had been open wide since he'd started teasing under my skirt, but now they threatened to clamp shut from the intensity. But I wanted nothing more than to be good for him, to make this as easy as possible, so I held out and kept them open as wide as I could stand as my orgasm rocked through me.

Spencer whispered praises into my skin as his hand slowed and his mouth trailed down to my neck. And even though it was more than nice feeling him lick and bite over my skin, I felt rather sad when he removed his fingers from me.

That sadness didn't last long though, not when he pulled back and studied me for a moment, eyes lust-blown and purely ravenous before he brought his glistening fingers up to my mouth.

I didn't even have to think. I brought my tongue out and let him slip his fingers over it, closing my mouth around them and sighing as I sucked them clean. This only seemed to excite him more, his features displaying all sorts of desperation until he couldn't take it anymore.

He kissed me again, bringing both his hands to rest at my waist. And with his hands so low I wondered if maybe he'd take to ridding himself of his own pants, but it never happened. Rather, he pulled away after minutes of more kissing, and sighed quite sadly as his upper body pressed firmly into mine.

Something else pressed firmly against me as well—right along the inside of my thigh—and I gasped, mind running wild through all the possible outcomes of the night.

But Spencer only stood there, occasionally nudging his nose against mine while his hands gently kneaded my sides.

"D—Do you want to stop?" I asked softly, afraid he'd regret what we did.

He proved me wrong. "God, no... It's... It's just that I'm still not cleared enough for any... strenuous activity on my leg, and I don't..."

I didn't want to push him, obviously, but I thought I could make the mood a little lighter. "O—Oh, well on the bright side... I could stay your assistant for a while longer."

The laugh that rumbled in his throat made me smile, though from the way he stood there, I knew he wouldn't risk it.

"Um... Raincheck?" he whispered.

On the one hand, that meant he definitely wanted to see me again, and I was more than happy with that. But also, that meant our fun for the night was done...

Yet... Maybe not...

"Sure," I answered, pecking his lips once more. Then I brought my hand to his chest and slid it down until I reached his belt, and I leaned back to look him in the eye, a boldness I never imagined coming from me in a million years.

"But I can still help you..."

I watched the desperation and disappointment in his features slowly dissolve into a newfound hunger—and an amusement—that grew my confidence tenfold.

"Oh?" Spencer mused. "How do you suppose you can help me this time?"

He wanted me to say it. So, without second guessing myself anymore, I grazed my finger over his erection. "I'm very good with my mouth, Dr. Reid."

He grabbed me by the hand then, dragging me along to the chair I'd kicked back before and sat himself down, one of his hands still gripping the cane. Matched with the desire in his eyes and the swollenness of his lips and the tousled strands of his hair, the sight was truly something to behold. It was something that only ever existed in my dreams, nd now it was real.

Not wanting to waste any time, I sunk to my knees and nestled myself in between his legs. He reached out and caressed my cheek before lifting my chin with his middle finger.

"You like being my good little helper?" he drawled.

I tried to nod, but he clicked his tongue and held my chin in place. "Words, Princess."

"Yes. I—I'd do anything you asked. Anything you want, it's yours..."

He hummed then, removing his hand from my face and moving to undo his belt swiftly with only one hand. The action, the sound, everything... it was enough to make me wet again, and I subtly ground down onto the heel of my foot as I watched him pull himself free from the confines of his pants.

I didn't have time to marvel at him before I was drawn forward like a magnet, my hands crawling up his legs and my eyes batting up at him, ready and eager to please him however he wanted.

"Eager, are we?" he mused once more, gently stroking himself with his hand.

"Yes, Doctor," I breathed, inching closer and kissing the outside of his hand.

His movement stopped then, and it didn't take longer than a second for him to decide to let me work on my own.

"Then have at it, Princess..."

I started by kissing my way up the length of him, taking my time to gauge his reactions as I did so, occasionally darting my tongue out to taste him. Once I reached the tip, I sucked on it gently, using my tongue to swirl around it until I could taste the saltiness of his precum.

And then I started taking him slowly into my mouth, watching above me as Spencer's eyes started to shut, obviously debating whether or not to lay back and enjoy this or watch me intently.

Either way, I was more than happy to keep it up, finally getting him to the back of my throat. I flexed my tongue and held him there as long as I could, promptly gagging over him and blinking tears from my eyes as he let out a loudest sound I'd heard from him yet. His head flew back and his tongue quivered along his bottom lip as he cursed my name.

The act made me proud, so I retreated for air, sucked at his tip again for a few seconds, and then repeated it, taking him down my throat again and watching through teary eyes as he visibly swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so... Such a good fucking girl..."

The praise caused my insides to burn hot, and I ground down onto my heel again, lifting my mouth to start bobbing up and down.

His eyes opened then, and he looked down at me, using his hand to brush stray hair from my face and the other to grip onto his cane for dear life. I looked up at him the whole time, making sure to convey through not only my actions but also my eyes that I loved this. I thrived off of his praise, I enjoyed the feel of his dick gliding over my tongue and hitting the back of my throat, and I longed to feel him coat the inside of my mouth with his release.

I was so entirely into him in every capacity, it wasn't even funny.

I was so glad he could tell, a smile grazing his features as his hand gently gripped some of my hair. "So eager to please, Princess... And so fucking good at delivering..."

I whined onto his dick as he held me down, rendering me immobile. The only thing I could do was look up at him and choke, and of course, I was more than happy to do it. In turn, I was met with a deep groan and a tug of the hair.

"Hold it, hold it... Atta girl..."

My cunt throbbed at his words, and my throat continued to burn, tears falling down my face at ten-speed until finally, he let up and pulled me off of him.

I coughed a little and blinked away tears as I caught my breath, Spencer's fingers combing hair from my face as he smiled proudly.

He didn't even need to say anything then. I wanted to give him more. So I leaned down again and took him in my mouth, quickly making work of his tip while my hand came up and stroked the rest of him.

"Fuck, Princess, just like that... Make me come just like that..."

Rather than just continuing, I offered him a high whine and a wide gaze, hoping to exceed expectations.

I guess it worked, because he came right then, his dick pulsing over my tongue and in my hand as his warm release shot down my throat and over my tongue. I hummed around him, fluttering my eyes closed at the taste and the feeling, probably enjoying the fact that I'd done this to him more than I should have.

It was worth it to see the look on his face, though, after he'd given me all he had and I purposely spit some of it out onto the tip of his dick so I could lick it up and give him just a little more stimulation after the fact. His mouth hung open, eyes heavy and unwilling to leave me, even as I finished and sat back to wipe the tears and saliva from my face with a satisfied smile.

Though, the longer he looked at me, the more shy I became. Funny when I'd just had his dick down my throat, but I'd never been good with people staring at me for long periods of time.

"Was that... Was that okay?" I asked, suddenly worried I hadn't done something to his standards. "I know I don't do this a lot, so I'm sorry if it wasn't that g—"

"Y/N..."

I blinked up at him, still on my knees and unwilling to move. Not that I wanted to, but I couldn't even if I had.

"That was fucking perfect... I meant it, you're... so good."

I knew he was capable of better words, but after having the life sucked out of you, I could imagine 'better words' were hard to come by. Still, I laughed a little, playing with the hem of my skirt. "Good. I'm... glad I could help."

He smiled at me, readjusting his pants and then moving to help me off the ground.

"Hey, uh... Even when you go back to your regular job after I get better, I... I hope you know you're always welcome to come visit me if we're not busy."

The words warmed me in a different way, my heart swelling as well. "You... You mean that?"

Spencer nodded, grabbing my hand and dragging his thumb over my wrist. "Of course. I mean, you're more than just a good helper, you know. You're also kind, and smart, and cute..."

I laughed at his emphasis on cute, heat warming my face. "Ha-ha..."

"I really mean it, though," he said softly, removing his hand from mind and bringing it up to lift my chin, so I'd meet his eyes. They were swimming with sincerity, the epitome of warmth and comfort and kindness— the kind that always drew me to him in the first place. "And... If you'd want to maybe ditch the paperwork one day and grab a coffee or something, maybe—"

"Yes," I interrupted without thinking. My heartbeat picked up upon seeing the look in his eyes when I agreed, a mixture of amusement and relief. "Y—Yes, I'd love to."

"Good. Then it's a date?"

"Definitely."

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[miekasa]

call me (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: fluff, humor? you can be the judge of that i suppose, levi is quiet and often practical, but you cannot convince that there’s not a small part of him that doesn’t enjoy having shit to hold over people lol

↯ notes: this is also cross-posted from another blog, but i tweaked it a bit to fit levi and rewrote/edited parts i wish the world had never seen </3 also i’m reposting bc i was an idiot who accidentally deleted it on mobile rip 

↯ word count: 1.3k

↯ summary: drunk you is not amused by the man who keeps trying to coerce you into his apartment; even if that man is your boyfriend and that apartment is his apartment.

“Alright mister, I’m trusting you for now because you’re Erwinnie’s friend, and Erwinnie is my best friend,” you hiccup, wagging your pointer finger as threateningly as you can in your current state, “So if he says you’re a good person, you’re probably a good person. Or good enough.”

Levi holds back a knowing smirk, and loops his arm through yours to steady your balance. He doesn’t know how or why Erwin let you get this drunk, but he’s at least glad the blonde was sober enough to call him to pick you up instead of letting you get in a cab; or worse, attempt to take the bus.

“I’m so very glad you trust me,” he says, voice flat as your wrap your other arm around his bicep. You hum back, a little spacey and like you maybe didn’t hear what he said.

You’re honestly pretty cute when you’re drunk. It’s not something he gets to see often, as you don’t allow yourself to let go frequently; nor do you usually have the time to. And it’s not that he particularly wishes for you to be drunk to the point where you can barely stand, or remember his name, but all things considered, Levi is happy that your general drunk disposition is happy, too. 

He waves Mike goodbye as he wrangles Erwin into his car, not holding back his smile this time as you wave over-excitedly at the blonde in the passenger seat, calling his name loudly to tell him goodnight and that you’ll miss him, like you hadn’t already told him goodnight three minutes ago, or spent the last three hours with him drinking. Yeah, you’re cute. 

Thankfully, Levi doesn’t live too far from the restaurant you and Erwin were at, so the both of you are home after a twenty minute walk—what should have been fifteen minutes, but was prolonged by your drunken fascination with a squirrel on a public bench.

You start to wobble more when Levi unlaces your arms to get his keys out of his pocket, and he moves his right hand to rest against the small of your back so you don’t fall. However, drunk you is not so entertained by the idea of his hands anywhere near your waist as sober you would have been.

“Hey, hey, hey—hold it right there, mister!” you stutter, words a bit too loud for the confined space of Levi’s hallway at three in the morning, “I am not going in—into that suspicious apartment with you.”

You stumble as you try to remove Levi’s hand from your waist, and he tries to steady your balance again, but push him away more forcefully, staggering into the wall behind you.

“Ah, bitch,” you curse, holding your head and groaning. The pain clearly isn’t enough to stop your accusations against Levi, as you’re back to wagging your finger at him, even hunched over from your drunken stupor, “See, this is your fault.”

Levi sighs. He doesn’t know why you’re holding your head, because you hit your back, and from what he can tell, you shouldn’t have hurt yourself that badly. He’ll take a closer look at you once you’re inside. That’s if he could get you inside to begin with.

He can’t wrangle you and open the door at the same time, so he goes for the latter, finally pulling his keys from his pocket to unlock his apartment door, then attempts to move you inside. Keyword: attempts; because anytime he puts his hands remotely near you, you slap them away.

“Come on, we have to go inside,” he grunts, trying again to get a hold of your arm, but you whack him away harshly. For a drunk person, you seem to have the strength and dexterity of a pro-athlete all of a sudden. Where was all this coordination when he was trying to get you up the stairs five minutes ago?

“No!” you growl—once again, too loudly for the time and place. “Haven’t you heard of the saying no means no, mister? I might be drunk, but this is not my apartment, and I am not going in there to have sex with you!”

“I’m trying to help you go to bed. I’m not going to try and have sex with you.” Levi takes a deep breath. This could sound really bad if anyone else woke up and heard the two of you. 

But you’re not having it, crossing your arms and turning your body so that you’re now facing the wall, your back towards a less-than-impressed Levi. “Well, I don’t believe you. I’m going to call Erwinnie tell him you’re being a bad friend, and then Erwinnie is going to call my boyfriend and he’s going to come and pick me up.”

“Oh yeah?” Levi drawls, leaning against his door frame, watching your silhouette as you clumsily search for your phone in your pockets, “Why don’t you just call your boyfriend then?”

You turn on your heels as best you can, and muster up your most menacing glare. It’s not menacing in the slightest, and it actually makes Levi crack a smile, which you do not take lightly; but that only makes him smile further, because sober you doesn’t like it when he’s not fazed by your self-proclaimed intimidation tactics, either.

“Fine,” you huff, finally putting your phone to your ear, “But you’re going to be sorry, because Levi is going to come here and kick your ass.”

Levi chuckles, feeling his own phone ring in his back pocket, “I bet he is.”

“He is,” you insist, stomping your foot for dramatic effect, “He might not be that tall, but he’s strong as hell, plus he’s handsome, and he doesn’t let people fuck around with me, so say your prayers, mister.”

The following afternoon is far less than pleasant. You feel groggy, tired, and like everything is moving in slow motion. Piece by piece, your memories of your night out with Erwin start to come back to you, but you can’t seem to recall anything beyond your fifth margarita.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Levi calls, sarcastically, upon entering the bedroom.

His voice and presence surprises you, but then the realization washes over you that you’re in his apartment and not your own. You’re not sure why yet, but you could probably take a guess.

“Did you take me home last night?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement, nodding his head towards the bedside table, where you find a bottle of water. Levi watches you as you move to hang your legs off the side of the bed and reach for the bottle, groaning in the process. He mentally notes that he should make you breakfast—or, well, at this point, brunch—after you go shower, so that you can take an Advil for the pain.

He moves across the room to sit beside you on the bed, careful to not disrupt too much as to make you spill the water on the sheets. “You know, for someone who’s so happy-go-lucky when they’re drunk, you put up quite the fight yesterday.”

“I did?” you turn to him, capping the bottle, eyes wide with surprise, “You were probably sleeping and you had wake up and come deal with me, I’m sorry, Levi.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures you, an almost uncharacteristic and sly smile playing on his lips, “You always say something interesting that keeps me entertained. It makes up for it.”

“Dear god, what was it this time?” you groan, throwing your head back, “I didn’t confess my feelings for you again did I? This is, what, like the sixth time since we’ve been dating? I’m such an embarrassing drunk.”

“Not a confession this time,” he chuckles, “The opposite. Maybe worse.”

Levi fishes his phone from his pocket, and pulls up his voicemails before handing it to you. Curious—and a little bit scared—to find out what could possibly be worse than confessing to your boyfriend of almost four years that you’re in love with him and sad that you’re not dating him? You’re not sure that it could get more embarrassing than that until you click on Levi’s most recent voicemail and hear your own voice crackling through the speaker of his phone.

“—What, hey, fuck off, mister! I don’t want to go into your scrubby apartment! I am happily dating Levi Ackerman, and when he gets here he is going to grand slam your sorry ass into the ground!”

[abarbaricyalp]

Broken Wings

Written for @samtember2022 prompt: angel/wings. (omgggggg I've been writing this for weeks I'm so tired of looking at it. No edits)

The first time Sam saw James, he was ten years old and James had appeared next to him on the top of the jungle gym just as Sam was about to leap off it into a pile of leaves. Sam had no idea how James had managed to get beside him at all, much less so quickly. It had taken Sam about ten minutes to climb his way to the top and he was a very good climber. He was jumping into the pile of leaves because no one else could get to the top of the jungle gym.

But then there was a hand on his arm, gripping onto him so tightly the other boy's fingers had gone a sickly kind of white. "This is a really stupid idea," the boy said levelly, though his eyes were wide and Sam kind of thought he was shaking a little.

"You shouldn't say stupid," Sam answered.

The boy stared at him unamusedly. "I can say it when it's true."

Sam considered this, but he had enough practice ignoring rational arguments between having an older brother and a younger sister, so he just shrugged and got his feet under him again, turning his attention back to the leaves and his chanting friends.

"Too bad," he said. "This is the fastest way down."

The boy sputtered some kind of argument but it was lost in the roaring of the air around Sam as he leapt from the jungle gym and soared towards the leaves. For a second, it really did feel like flying. Then, all at once, the roaring of the wind became the roaring of blood in his ears as pain thrummed through his whole body.

"Uh, should his foot be pointed that way?"

"Hey, does your elbow always look like that?"

"Sam, your nose is bleeding."

"I'm going to get a teacher!"

Sam couldn't find the breath to tell them not to get adults involved, so he tried to find the kid who'd been sitting next to him. He must've been older than Sam, because Sam didn't recognize him at all and the school wasn't big enough to miss someone your own age all year.

It seemed he'd only get one lecture that day, though. The boy was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was worried he'd be in trouble since he was up on top of the jungle gym too. Sam was just happy not to have to hear 'I told you so' any more times that he had to.

---

He kept showing up at all of Sam's worst decisions, like running into the road to catch a baseball or telling a friend to toss a pair of scissors at him from across the room or trying to take on a half pipe before he'd really even learned how to move on the skateboard.

Sam had learned his name was James. He was still confused about how he got on the playground because he was pretty sure James did not go to this school. He figured maybe James was one of those kids who vacationed at the beach and always got into things he wasn't supposed to be in. Or maybe he was homeschooled and lived out in a swamp. Or maybe he was a ghost.

All Sam knew was that he had a nose for trouble. James' warnings worked about half the time. Usually the half where he caught Sam's arm and yanked him away from a bad decision. He was almost never successful at telling Sam to stop doing something. There really wasn't anyone who was. But as they got older and James seemed to lose the knee jerk reaction to scatter when Sam got hurt, they got to spend more time nursing bruised limbs and egos over ice cream or pizza.

Sam hadn't realized how odd a relationship like that might be. He hadn't realized he'd come to expect James around when hurt showed its face. Not until he was sixteen and had just been dumped in the middle of lunch, under an old moss tree that probably harbored more bugs than bark, and James wasn't there when the tears came. Wasn’t there when Sam climbed along divots and branches and the path marked out by decades of people before him. Wasn't there when he skipped his last four classes in favor of hiding in the branches so no one could ever see him again.

He wasn't there when Sam decided to go to the house party that weekend either, but he was there when Sam climbed out of a third story window and stared down at the pool below him. It seemed smaller from this high up. He was almost glad when he felt familiar fingers wrap around his wrist, then smooth over his forearm until James had a hold around his shoulders and was pulling him close.

Sam let him, resisting for just a second before he let himself collapse against James' side. He hid his face against James' neck and clutched at his ribs as sobs that had come out of nowhere rocked through his frame.

"It's alright," James soothed softly. "Let's not make a rough night worse because of broken ribs and a crushed skull," he murmured. He didn't scoot them back into the window but he moved them further along the roof to sit against the wall of the little alcove. "I've got you."

"She just broke it off and left," Sam said to no one in particular, just because he hadn't said it out loud yet. "She said I was 'the one' two weeks ago!"

James nodded and held Sam tighter. "I know. But teenagers are fickle things. You are too. Just give it a few weeks and you'll be okay."

Sam shook his head. "I'm never going to be okay again," he bemoaned dramatically.

James sighed. "There are many things in this life that will test you and change you. This isn't really one of them."

"How could you possibly know that?" Sam asked. "You don't know what it's like."

He didn't have to raise his head to know James was rolling his eyes. The deep weary sigh that shuffled his head was enough to get the point across.

"Because you're sixteen and very little about being sixteen matters in the long run."

"Right, you say with all the wisdom of a seventeen year old," Sam scoffed.

"I'm not seventeen," James argued. Sam was pretty sure that didn't make it better. But the smooth motions of his hands against Sam's back and side did.

He pressed he face against James' neck again and tried to breathe.

---

Sam wasn't trying to be dramatic, but he was pretty sure James wasn't human by the time he enlisted. His daddy was a preacher. He believed in things that existed above and below the earth, always beyond human. He didn't think James was a demon. If he was, he was the worst one Sam had ever heard of. But guardian angel seemed to fit the bill.

It would explain James' ability to appear out of thin air every time Sam was about to make a bad decision. It would explain his determination to keep Sam from getting hurt. It would explain how James had been there to steady Sam on the free-climb rock wall during a training test but hadn't been around for the rest of basics.

It did not explain why James was solid and warm and sweating behind Sam as they moved to the music. James was always half a beat off. Sam was trying really hard not to think about it. The angel thing, but also the music thing. That was going to drive him nuts.

He'd graduated basics four days ago. He was supposed to be on his way back to Louisiana, but he'd decided to stay in Texas for a few extra days. It was only something like ten hours to back home.

He'd been surprised by the vibrancy of the city, had half fallen in love with it, even confined to base. He had expected a decent night life--hell he wouldn't have minded a honky tonk dance hall either--but this club was beyond his expectations. Or maybe his expectations were biased after months without getting to have any fun.

He'd been about ten seconds from joining with another group to hit up other clubs when James had appeared with an arm around his waist and a murmured congratulatory, "Hey, Warhawk."

And, well, Sam hadn't left.

He didn't ask how James was here, just like he hadn't asked how he'd been there when Sam slipped on the rock wall. He just dropped his head back against James' shoulder and reached back to curl his fingers in sweat dampened hair. He'd forgotten how good it could feel to brush through someone else's hair.

James' hands were broad on Sam's hips, covering half his waist. And he was so warm. Sam could feel him through his clothes and the muggy air. It still wasn't enough and he moved James' hands under his shirt. He could've been making it up--it was loud in the club--but he was pretty sure some strangled sound got choked out of the other man when his fingers hit Sam's bare skin. But he didn't let that deter him, groping at Sam's abdomen and chest as soon as he realized Sam was really going to let him touch.

Then again, Sam couldn't judge too much because the sound he made when James kissed his neck was even more needy. He wasn't sure that what they were doing could really be considered dancing, not when James seemed to be incapable of just grinding his hips and Sam was continuously distracted into shivers by James. It was heady though. Sam had already forgotten what the weight of the world felt like. He wasn't chasing a mistake or looking for validation. He was just a young guy dancing in a club in a hot night.

"Will you follow me?" Sam asked against James' cheek.

"Anywhere," James promised.

That sent more shivers through Sam and it was getting ridiculous at this point. He pulled Bucky through the dance floor, skirting around groups and a dance circle that was looking very competitive. There were a few people loitering around the entrance to the bathrooms, but they were all too preoccupied to do more than glance at Sam and James.

James had the forethought to close the door behind them, but he managed to do that with one hand while catching Sam around the waist with the other arm. He opened up under Sam's mouth with an ease that surprised Sam. Like he'd just been waiting for Sam to make a move.

Still, he said, "We shouldn't," as he kissed Sam back against a wall.

Sam hooked his leg up around James' hip. "Why?" he asked, reaching for James' shirt hem. "Because you're, like, an angel or something?"

"Doll, you're the one who flies," James laughed softly. He lifted Sam up like he weighed nothing and mouthed at his collarbones. "No, because you're drunk."

"I know what I want," Sam assured, hiking James' shirt.

"I know you do," Bucky agreed. He dragged his mouth over Sam's jaw and back to his neck. Sam moaned again. It was entirely unfair how good this man's mouth felt.

"What if we went back to my room? I'll drink water the whole way. Be totally sober by the time we get there," Sam tempted.

James' hips rolled against Sam's ass and nodded against Sam's neck. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, alright, let's do that."

But it still took them too long to leave.

---

James was around a little more consistently in Louisiana, like he always had been. But when Sam shipped out for South Carolina first and then London and then Afghanistan, he disappeared. Not for lack of trying on Sam's part. There was many a bad decision to be made and Sam usually ended up with a bloody nose or unofficial reprimand or concussion because his safety net wasn't there to yank him back.

It also didn't help that the gap in Sam's life from James' absence was filled by the direct opposite of a guardian angel. If anything, Riley was the devil on his shoulder, always egging him on to go higher and faster, or try the terrible drink that really tasted like straight gasoline, or to go ahead and start that fight, I totally have your back. Sam loved Riley. Self recognition through the other and all. Riley felt like the other half of his soul.

It was only natural that they were the two chosen for the EXO-7 program. The wing pairs didn't need their wearers to be in each other's back pockets, but Sam was pretty sure it helped a whole hell of a lot. Everything in the air was intuitive with Riley. Once they got used to flying--really flying, if only James could see him now--they were untouchable. They never crashed into each other, never outpaced each other, moved in sync like they could read each other's minds. They had the same morality and together they veered the program towards a search and rescue operation.

Which is why Sam was not thrilled to be running a 3AM mission with an added termination component. It was dark and it was cold and Sam's stomach was tied in knots that he couldn't breathe his way through. In hindsight, he should've found some way to ground them and shut it down. He should've listened to himself.

He wasn't sure what alerted him to the RPG. A noise, maybe. Maybe some slight shift in the air that his body clocked without Sam fully realizing it. A violent set of goosebumps that made him jump towards Riley. He still wasn't sure if he was trying to knock Riley out of the way because he realized Riley was the target or if he was just trying to get them both down.

It didn't matter. Just as his fingers were almost close enough to grab Riley’s sleeve, another body hit his and sent him straight into the ground faster than Sam thought should've been possible. For a blissful moment, for the last moment in his life that wouldn't be marred by tragedy, Sam thought the explosion of color and light was just from his own impact. Thought he was just seeing a concussion take hold, or his body dealing with the pain of broken bones.

And then the debris, the carnage, began to fall around him.

"Riley!" he cried, because at this point their cover was blown anyway. When no response came, he took to the air again, ignoring the pain blooming along his body. There was no one in the sky with him, but there was really no one on the ground either.

Sam's head swam but he turned desperately, searching for where Riley was hovering, waiting for him so they could go back together. Together. They were supposed to be together. He was almost in Sam's hands. Sam almost had him. And who had hit Sam? Who else was in the sky?

Sam felt his altitude drop. He couldn't concentrate well enough to control any of the fine mechanics of the jet pack, and he didn't really care either. The wings engaged a few meters later and Sam came up short in front of someone else.

He wasn't in wings like the EXO-7. They were... real? Huge and dark and full of feathers. Some of the feathers were singed too, still simmering. Sam couldn't pay attention to any of it.

"Help me find him," he cried, spinning again and beginning to dive and rise over and over, trying to see as much of the area as he could. But it was dark and there were tears in his eyes and pain was beginning to settle into his bones. He knew Riley wasn't in the air. He knew even if he did find him on the ground, there'd be nothing he could do. Still, he searched and his heart ached and dark feathers floated around him. It was as if they were pressing him down, making the air heavier around him. He struggled against the weight but his heart hurt and his ribs hurt and he was so confused. He hit the ground and crumbled into a heap.

"Sam, you can't stay here," James said, landing beside Sam and covering him with those impossible wings.

Sam burrowed into the darkness they provided. He wanted to curl into a ball, hide his face behind his ribs, tuck his elbows beneath his knees, remove his heart to make space for anything else, anything that wouldn't hurt so much. None of this made any sense. He wanted to wake up and forget this deep ache in his chest that he knew he'd never be able to carve back out.

"Sam, you're hurt and you can't stay here," James repeated. But he wasn't touching Sam, except for his heavy wings, so Sam didn't bother coming out of hiding.

And then suddenly they were in Louisiana. Sam fell back into damp earth and blinked at the overcast sky. The kind of overcast that only managed to make the sun brighter, a gray that hurt to look at. He could picture what the ocean looked right then, the choppy waves and dangerous blue-grey tinge of a sea before the storm. But he couldn't see the ocean, couldn't even hear it. James stood in front of him, his wings drooping behind him.

"You are the most reckless thing I've ever been tasked with," he said with a weird level to his voice. "And the last guy I had put a plane down in the Atlantic Ocean."

Sam blinked at him. Partially because the sky was making his head hurt and partially because it was getting more and more difficult to see James as more than a glowing shadow. "What are you? What's happening?"

"What's happening is that your lungs are filling with fluid and there's a slow bleed in your brain. You're dying. Lucky for you, I'm very good at my job." James came forward but didn't get much clearer. Occasionally, a single feature would suddenly come into focus but it'd be gone as soon as Sam saw something else.

"What are you?" he repeated.

"A guardian angel," James said as he reached over to run his hand over Sam's head. The slight pressure sent pain racing through his skull. "An exhausted guardian angel. You're welcome."

"I have to find Riley. Why would you pull me away? I almost had him," Sam accused, the terror of the night creeping back to him. No amount of Louisiana storm would keep that at bay.

"Your friend is gone. It's too late. You weren't meant to save him."

"Bullshit. You were there. You could have helped!"

James shook his head, turning his attention to Sam's chest, repeated the delicate series of movements there as he had on his head. "He was not mine to save either."

"That's bullshit! Where was his guardian angel? Why have I seen you my whole life but his couldn't be around for the ten seconds he needed it?"

"Because you're meant to live, Sam. And all the good things you're meant to live for--that spirit and big heart and ability to make friends and leadership abilities--all of that makes you much more prone to getting hurt and cutting your time short. I had to be there to keep you on the path."

When James pulled his hand away, some pressure eased from Sam's ribs. Nothing happened to the pain in his heart. "He's just like me. You should have saved him too."

"That's not my decision to make. I'm in charge of you. And, trust me, that's enough."

Sam shook his head. Thunder cracked above them and rain was about to split the sky open. Sam wanted to dig into the ground and never come up.

"Sam, let me save your life," James said softly. There were hands on him, urging him upwards, up to his feet. There were wings behind him then, propping him up. His wings. The things he had fought for for so long.

"Why?" Sam asked, and the wings became dead weight on his back, yanking him over.

James held him tightly and kept him on his feet. "Because you still have so much to do."

These things we do.

Sam nodded and clutched onto James' arms. "Okay. Okay. Let's...let's go back."

James smiled at him and nodded. "Yeah. Let's get you home."

There was only the rest of his life ahead of him.

---

"Yeah, I thought you might show up here," Sam panted, squinting up at James as he gasped in breaths without being too obvious about it.

"You're not dying," James said. "And even if you were, there's not much I could do about it." At the furrow of Sam's brows, he ducked his head and gave a sheepish smile. "I'm kind of between jobs right now."

"What?" Sam asked. "How can you be between jobs? I'm standing right here."

"You are collapsed in a heap right here," James corrected. "And I know. It's pretty unheard of for a guardian angel to lose their charge. But it's also unheard of for a guardian angel to have two charges walking the earth at the same time. Which really isn't my fault. I didn't decide if he was dead or not."

Sam glanced over his shoulder, but he couldn't find the sprinting form of one Steve Rogers anywhere on the Mall. Probably three miles gone by now. Should be back in a minute or so. "You know, I didn't assume Captain America when you said plane crash."

James shrugged. "You didn't have to know. I was all yours at that point."

"What happens now?" Sam asked.

James sat next to him under the tree and tilted his face up to look at the leaves. "I guess I get to kind of just exist for a little while," he hummed. He closed his eyes as the sunlight fell over his face. "I've never really felt this. The sun and the wind and the grass."

"No?"

"No. It's all too grand for angels to understand."

"I would've thought it was the opposite. That you guys were too important to notice something so small."

James shook his head. "All of this, it's only for you. For humans. God loves you so much, they made a whole world just for you. And I get it now."

Sam reached over to trail his fingers over James' hand and up his arm, then laughed when goosebumps followed his touch. "So who's in charge of me now?" he asked.

"I can't tell you. But he's already got a lot of practice watching your back. He'll do anything so that you may live."

Sam felt his heart stutter in his chest. No matter how much he tried to tell himself not to read too much into it, he already believed. "Then what do you want to do first, James?"

"Well, I want food. I've never been so hungry. But first, I think I want to start going by--"

"Bucky?" Steve Rogers asked, staring at the two of them.

James grinned. "Yeah, that one again. And then I guess I have to figure out some other way to keep the two of you alive."

Sam knocked his shoulder against Bucky's with his own grin. "Or, y’know, I could show you how good it feels to be human and still fly."

"Nah, I think that one's all for you, angel," Bucky laughed softly and then leaned over to kiss Sam. Judging by the noise he made, it felt just as good as it did to Sam.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Sugary Sweet Apologies

Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)

A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.

“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.

“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.

“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.

“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.

You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”

Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.

“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.

-

David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.

He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.

“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”

Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.

“Excuse me?” David asked.

“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.

“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.

“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.

“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”

David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.

Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.

“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.

Spencer never checked on you.

-

You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.

However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.

During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.

“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.

No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.

“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.

“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.

“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.

“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.

Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.

Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.

“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.

“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.

The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.

Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Dear Reid,

Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.

Thanks again,

Y/L/N

Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.

You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.

He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.

Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

��You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.

“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.

-

You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.

You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.

You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.

“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.

“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.

“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.

“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.

“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.

You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.

“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”

“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.

“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.

You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.

“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.

“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”

“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.

Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.

“It’s okay,” you understated.

You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.

“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.

“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

Spencer muttered something incoherent.

“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.

“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”

“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”

“In what way?” he curiously asked.

“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.

“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.

When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.

In typical elementary school fashion…

Will you go get coffee with me?

Check:

Yes

or

No

Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.

“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.

“It’s a date,” he smiled.

[karmic-toast]

A day with your sibling (Childe edition)

Imagine yourself in Liyue harbor. I wasn't really sure about what type of story you wanted so I made Y/n Childe's younger sibling.

"Higher! Higher!" you say as your big brother, Ajax throws you high into the air.

Ajax catches you in his arms.

"That's it for today. I don't want you puking on me." he says as you pout.

Your eyes trail over to a young woman and a older man walking. The female was making weird faces as the man tried his best not to smile.

"Hu Tao, Zhongli!" you excitedly wave your arms towards them.

"Y/n!" Hu Tao runs to you.

You squirm in Ajax's arms trying to get out of his strong grip.

"Oops sorry Y/n." Ajax says and put you down on the ground.

Once your feet hit the ground you bolted over to Hu Tao. She opens up her arms and you accept her hug.

The woman smelled of fire and cinders but you didn't mind.

"Hello." Ajax greets the two. "Can you take care of Y/n for me Hu Tao? I have to talk to Zhongli about his recent transaction in my bank account."

"Okie dokie! Ya hear that Y/n? We have the whole day to ourselves, so what do you wanna do first?"

"The kites!" You say.

"To the kites then!" Hu Tao says.

"Wait before you go, here." Ajax hands Hu Tao a bag of mora. "Be careful with Y/n, she can be quite the handful."

"Bye big brother and Zhongli!"

"Bye." Ajax responds to you. But Zhongli simply waves a hand halfheartedly. He was probably dreading the 'talk' he and Ajax were going to have.

・・・(How your day went)

You watched in delight as the big red kite in the shape of a butterfly fluttered in the air. You threw your kite which was a (f/a) into the air. Instead of flying beautifully in the air it did a 180 and charged back right down onto your head.

"Waaaaaaahh" you cry out as you hold your head. It was now forming a large bump.

Hu Tao runs over and examined where you hit your head.

"Hmm no fatal injuries... Congratulations Y/n! You won't be dying soon."

You look up at the funeral directer with puppy eyes.

"Can we get icecream?"

"Of course Y/n!"

・・・

"Ajax over here!"

Your brother immediately recognizes your voice and walks through the bustling streets of Liyue trying to get to you. He stumbles over a foot and almost squashes a child flat.

"Hey!" the child's mother scolds him for not being careful.

He finally reaches your side.

"Whew, I'd never want to go through that again." he said.

"Oh look Zhongli's over there. Let's go!" Hu Tao says looking mischievously.

Ajax glares at Hu Tao.

You easily slipped between legs and cracks, quickly reaching the other side.

Ajax sighs and starts to walk across the street again. "Y/n don't go too far without me!!"

・・・

It was almost the end of the day and Hu Tao and Zhongli had left already.

Ajax had your room set up a couple days before you arrived. It had (f/c) walls but other than that it was pretty plain. Ajax sits on your queen sized bed which was way too big for your small body.

You stare at your hands trying to muster enough courage to ask your brother a very important question.

"Hey, is something bothering you? 'Cause if there is you can always tell me." Your brother says sensing your distress.

"Can I ask you something?" you whisper.

"Yeah, come sit here on this bed."

You join Ajax on the comfy bed.

"I've been wondering... Will you ever quit from the Fatui and come back to Shneznaya?"

Ajax stiffens his shoulders. "What do you-?"

"Cut the act big brother. Just because you can fool Tuecer with that stupid excuse of being a toy seller doesn't mean you can fool me!" Tears threatened to fall out of your eyes.

"Y-y/n......"

"I just want to be more involved with you. You rarely ever come home. I miss you... And I have to leave tomorrow too." A wet blob trickles down your face.

You brother wipes the tear off your face.

"I always knew you were the smartest out of all my siblings. I'm sorry I left you out on many things... I just wanted to protect you."

You reach out and give a warm embrace to Ajax.

You cuddled with him on the bed for the rest of the night.

・・・

The next day you stood at the port of Liyue harbor, getting ready to ride a ship home.

Hu Tao,  Zhongli, and Ajax waved at you from the distance.

You wave back as the boat starts to sail off into the distance.

The End

Sorry if this seemed rushed. I was trying my best to get it done by this week. I hoped you enjoyed it!

[yandere-wishes]

⭐Yandere Joestars⭐

(Parts 1-7 + Bonus Charcter: Joseph and Johnny’s characterizations are based off @dear-yandere​ ‘s interperations) I tried to write this mostly in the Joestars' POV. Their respective darlings resemble lifelike dolls rather than human beings to further illustrate how out of touch with reality the Jojos have become.

Warnings: Gore, kidnapping, dehumanization.

Edited: By the amazing Peri!! (@tealyjade-libran )

⭐Jonathan Joestar is possessive. ⭐

It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it...

It's an old saying, one that Jonathan remembers from an antique storybook his mother use to read him. It didn't mean anything back then, when he was still an infant too young and new, to fully comprehend what "owning" and "losing" was. But as the years ticked by faster than any clock could keep track of, things started to change. What had once been a passing quote in a chivalrous story about knights and dragons, soon turned into the epitome of Jonathan Joestar's life. 

Soon love wasn't about saving a princess or impressing the neighborhood girls with his boxing skills. No, all too soon love became about own and guarding. 

There may have been a time -long before "Jojo" and Dio met- when Jonathan was just like any other gentleman. Tender and sweet, flirtish at gatherings and charming in ladies' companies...but that was a Jonathan from a could-be-past that had been demolished the minute Dio Brando stepped foot onto the Joestar estate. From then on things depleted all so quickly. Everything Jonathan had come to unconsciously cherished had been so easily stripped from him by his beloved new "brother". 

Everything he loved had been killed, destroyed, or broken in some inhuman way. His friends had abandoned him, his lover had distorted him, his father didn't even notice him...

"It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it". The second time he hears that phrase, it freezes him to the pavement, his body star-struck like he just received a message from the heavens. Although it's rather peculiar, why "heaven" would convey a message to him in such an unholy place. 

With Dio having practically kicked Jonathan out of the mansion and countryside. Jojo had no other place to go but the back allies of London. Sure he still tried to be home for supper and bedtime and any other time his father may get an inkling of his absence. But when there was no need to 'appear' Jonathan took to the London streets away from Dio and his lackeys. 

In fate's bizarre game, it's in a backstreet that reeks of days old licker and rotting flesh of paupers that no one has bothered to bury. That Jojo hears that life-defining idiom once more. His dulling sapphire blue eyes follow the mist of those melodious words. Staring until they're practically itching to cut through his sockets and run after those little words. But they stop right before they can leave their eyelets, they stop and stare at the figure that strolls out of the shadows, in such a way, that would make Jojo's father slap him across the face for being "barbarous".  

It's luck or fate or maybe even destiny that leads the heir of the Joestar legacy to meet his darling in the slums of England. 

"How my heart resonates when I lay my weary eyes on your enchanting face..."

There's an odd sweetness about the naivety that surrounds his little friend. A sort of innocence that comes with not knowing about the hell that he's gone through. It's charming in a moderate way, his darling can't come to despise him if they haven't got a clue who he is. Keeping both his worlds as far apart as possible is really the only option left. Dio and his friends can't hurt his new friend? Lover? Companion? In actuality, Jonathan really doesn't know what you are to him. At first, you're merely a distraction from his crumbling, lonely shell of an existence. A sort of invisible pillar holding up London's bridge before it collapses into the  River Thames. Sure he views you as another person, unlike the other noblemen Jonathan has no desire to treat you as anything less than a respectable young lady despite your social statutes. 

 Dio can have the noblemen and ladies, he can have all of George's affection and favor, Heck Dio can have the whole goddamn world for all Jonathan cares. So long as he has his darling, his sunflower, his only means for living, then he will be content. 

Jojo lost everything he once loved, but he swears it to every star in the night sky that'll preserve his darling from the wickedness that runs this cruel world. He'll cherish her while she's still in his arms...

He'll protect her, just like the knights did in the old bedtime stories his mother would tell him. 

"...I swear on my honor as a Joestar that I shall never lose you to the likes of anyone, I'll be a true gentleman, a true knight and I'll protect you from any who wishes cause you harm."

⭐Joseph Joestar is Protective and all so patronizing.⭐

Why must Love hurt so much?

It's solitude, pure utter solitude that attracts Joseph to his darling. Oh sure, he must have known them from an earlier time in his life, back when the words Hammon and Ripple just sounded like fancy dessert names. Back when he was still a naive kid wishing on every goddamn star that he could just meet one of his parents for a fraction of a second. Back when life was easy when everything made sense. That's when he first met his darling. Although all so many years ago he probably just thought of them as the little sister he never got a chance of having. 

There's a numbness growing inside him now that his life has slipped off its axes, hurling into unknown darkness that plagues him in the form of Pillarmen and red gems. 

Everywhere he looks there's a reminder that nothing's going back to the way it used to be. No waking up to Granny Erina's voice calling him down for breakfast, no running around chasing Old Man Speedwagon. Everything is gone, replaced by Lisa Lisa's brutal training and Ceaser's endless taunting. 

Day by day nothing changes, but once he looks back every little thing is different. Ruptured and mangled into something unrecognizable. 

But then there's his darling. Someone -or rather something- that's still the same. Just like before. Her smile is still the same as ever, bright and cheery as she runs up to him wrapping her arms around his abdomen muttering about how much she missed her "Dear Big Brother".

(Y/N) is a comfort, a familiarity in a strange new world. She's something so frail and vulnerable, not to mention naive. Thrusted into a world where horror writers don't dare venture into. It's so likely that she'd be captured by one of Kar's zombie vampire things or -even worse- charmed by Caesar’s silver tongue. 

It's thoughts like these that haunt Joseph at night, keep him up and wandering into her room just to gaze at her sleeping form. He's lucid enough to know how it might look. Like he's the bad guy trying to take advantage of a defenseless little girl. But he can justify his actions, he's her big brother, he has to watch over especially when she's at her most vulnerable. If Ceaser ever tried anything or some vampire freak snatched her away in the dead of night, Joseph would never forgive himself!

But what does he get for all his efforts? What does he get for all his sleepless nights and hours upon hours of worrying? Just a small smile and a fleeting kiss on the cheek. No sincere, "Thank you big brother," or, "You're my hero Joseph!" Nothing, nothing worthwhile anyway. 

Now it's a competition, a battle to the death if it has to be -funny how he takes this more seriously than his match against Wamuu.- He's competitive by nature and he's willing to do anything to earn his darling's affection once more. He doesn't care who he has to beat within an inch of their life so long as he can have his darling back in his arms.

There is an aftermath to all of these, once all the fighting has ended and the battle's won. Once Joseph has finally claimed his prize. There's a certain way his darling has to act. She’s got to smile and play the role of the dotting little sister once more. Just so Joseph can justify his actions...

"And your next line is, 'I love you more than anything else big brother Joseph!'...at least I wish it was." 

⭐Jotaro Kujo is cold and sadistic.⭐

Never learned how to love...

A lover by Jotaro's book is nothing more than a walking, talking doll. Someone who cooks meals, irons clothes, and kisses him on the cheek before he leaves for the day. Sure they have other uses, in flares of passionate moments, they're something to hold onto, another pair of limbs to get tangled in. Something hot and solid, someone to push down, to weigh his force on. 

That's it, that's all there is to it...

A lover and a convenient toy are one of the same. 

He knows it's wrong to think about someone that way. To deprive a living thing of all their thoughts and feelings just so it's suitable for him. But at the end of the day who wants to hear idle chatter and gossip or go outside for walks in crowded areas. All too social, it's all so troublesome. All Jotaro wants is a closed-off life, away from the scums of the earth...away from people in general. 

It's such an inconvenience to seek out a lover, to hassle through dates and meetups in hopes of finding someone that clicks. Jojo would even go so far as to call it wishful thinking. So it has to be a pure accident that he even meets his darling. They're just someone who gets tangled in with the crusaders. A perfect living perception of 'wrong place, wrong time'. Someone who's life gets blown to bits and shambles just because fate decided to play a cruel joke on them. 

And that's what piqued Jotaro's interest. The desperate, depleted look of pain cemented over their face. The sparse dying gleam of determination that blazes within their eyes. Oh, what Jotaro wouldn't do to snuff that little ray of hope. To watch as what little purpose they have is ripped from their arms. What he wouldn't do to see them in pain...

Pain is submission, that's really all Jojo wants. A darling submits, not out of their own free will, but because every little thing they've ever loved has been slaughtered, all that they cherished has been stolen from them. 

But it's not enough 

It's never enough

Although Jotaro adores the looks of anguish that decorates his lover's face. There's something more satisfying about maltreating them. About leaving marks all over, about leaving bruises that never lose their violet glow. He's claiming his darling, physically and mentally. Not a single day goes that Jotaro doesn't remind his lover who they belong to. From verbal taunts that plague his darling's mind day and night, to punches that break bones leaving them paralyzed on the floor begging for help, to cuts that are just a little too deep to ever heal properly. 

Even when his darling is behaving, even when the poor little thing does everything her lover tells her to do, there's still going to be some sort of violence directed at her. Some backhanded remark about how useless they are just because they couldn't follow his mother's recipe. Some sort of blow just for greeting him 'too late'. Trivial things morph into punishments, just for Jotaro's sick amusement.

At his core, Jotaro is an unresponsive man, one with no regard for how others feel. He's distant, it's a trait he can't change. He likes how he does things, how there's no room for slip-ups when it's only him. Even his darling isn't someone he'd consider opening up to. Their opinion of him doesn't matter and their feelings are irrelevant. Most days he's gone until the last possible moment, leaving his darling an endless amount of time to mull over every word and scar. 

But here's the catch.

As the clock ticks by, as the nights and days begin to merge into an endless existence, as all hope burns in the pits of hell, darling's mind is also going to stray. Ever so slowly losing its perception of reality. 

'Maybe' spiders begin to spin webs of doubt through darling's empty cranium. The isolation begins to bite at her skin like the razor-sharp fangs of frostbite. They start to crave Jotaro's harsh touches, they start to miss the venom-like words. Every insult and slap to the face is welcomed, all the misplaced anger and death threats start to feel like sweet kisses and flowery touches. 

Poor darling no longer sees big scary Jotaro as a monster. They've lost the ability to see him for what he truly is.

And what happens when Jotaro does finally come home? Oh, how little (y/n) will ravish in the gut kicks and loathsome words. How she'll take every beating with a sweet sugar-coated smile.

Cause this is her life now. A meaningless existence that revolves around Jotaro and his bleak personality. A life that's only worth living when Jotaro is around.

Is it even a life?

"Yare yare daze you're such a hassle, be glad I keep you around...”

⭐Josuke is obsessive with delusional tendencies.⭐

Maybe I'm the one you'll fall in love with next...

Just like his "father" Joseph, Josuke is stuck in a perpetual state between diaphanous and phantasm.

There's something all too wrong with Morioh nowadays. The narrow streets and verbose buildings have started to feel like a transparent cage. The town has always been small, barely reaching a population of 3,000 despite all the new families that keep moving in.

Nevertheless, everything has dulled, faded, and withered into a monochrome collage. The layers of repetitiveness had finally begun to pick at Joskue's nerves...

And yet somehow, by some diabolical twist of fate. In the mists of the oceans of familiarity, Josuke’s eyes grab onto some shimmering pearl lounged into between the crowd of familiar faces. 

Sure he's seen this girl before, but he's never actually seen her. Never stopped to look at the odd way their eyes twinkle like newborn stars or how their skin shimmers with the glow of a thousand suns. 

One second is all it took, a fleeting compliment as you passed by Jojo in the peppermint flavored afternoon. Your hair flowing like a tapestry of the galaxy as you disappeared in the crowd of dead pulsars. Not a care in the world, not for him, not for anyone.  

Destiny was definitely up to its old cruel tricks again. 

He's not stalking. Josuke will swear on his grandfather's grave that he'd never "stalk" a harmless little girl, like some distorted maniac. He just happens to bump into you at the beauty parlor when he's picking up a new brand of hairspray. And it's totally an accident when he meets you out in the abandoned fields! Honest! It's not his fault fate wants the two of you to keep meeting, it's not his fault that you guys are meant to be!

It's not technically a friendship that you two start to build up, it's far from one. Friends don't dream about sugar-filled kisses behind school walls. Or about ice cream that tastes like scandalous touches and candy induced moans. No, Joskue isn't your friend, he NEVER wanted to be your friend. He knows that! He knows what he wants...but with each passing day, he's beginning to doubt that you know that. 

He'd never realized he's been so sensitive on you. So entranced by your out of tune voice that muttered rather than spoke. He's seldom been so eager to throw a punch and crack his knuckles on someone's skull, just for saying you looked "lovely today". 

Whenever his eyes don't land on you, a rage-filled volcano bubbles in the pit of his gut, uncontrollable anger that festers inside of him, like lava waiting to spill out and burn anyone that wanders too close. His palms itch with the need to hold you, to feel your soft skin rubbing against his. 

The jealousy is always there, pricking at his skin like rose thrones. Until they inevitably cut through his flesh and make him lose his composure. He's ready to kick and punch and hurt and kill anyone that comes too close to you, anyone that saunters off their orbit and makes a beeline for you, disturbing the balance of solitude that Josuke so eagerly sets you into.

Sometimes in the dead of night, when the world has finally dozed off, Joskue's mind begins to wonder. He thinks the way he feels about you is the same way an addict feels about his drugs. Maybe to him, you're even more addicting than heroin and ecstasy...and yet he can't quit you, he just doesn't want to quit you. Nothing in this world could compare to your sweet voice that tickles his ear when you lean in, to whisper a secret, or the may your full lips move when you throw another honey-filled insult at him. 

He prefers when you're alone when he's the only one you talk to. 

Sure there are exceptions like everything in life, although in the end  

there's a sort of backhanded irony.

It's those exceptions that are going to hurt him in the. 

Josuke trusts his friends, he knows that Okuyasu and Koichi would never do anything to hurt him...

But you're not on that list and to be fair you're surely the only one who can truly hurt him.

You fall for a friend of his. Not him, not the boy that's been driving himself insane just to earn a smile from you, not the boy that let you get away with insulting his hair and poking insults at his look, not him never him, it just can't be him.

"You're like an older brother to me"...Did you wash your mouth with acid before you spat those words at him? Did you intend to lace your words with knives and blades and rubbing alcohol before you stabbed him? It's figurative, sure. But it might as well be literal. No pain, no cut, no punch from any stand would ever hurt so much! You really don't know what you do to him, do you?

"I'm happy for you," it's a lie, blank and simple. Automatic words that he's practiced in the mirror a thousand and one times. He'd rather watch you suffocate on your own blood than in the arms of another man. He'd rather break every bone in your body than watch you kiss one of his friends. 

How on earth had he ever come to love you? Someone as cruel and cold. Were you even human? You resembled some ice stand more than a flesh and blood person. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM.

He really hadn't meant for it to become an addiction, he hadn't meant to get all so used to the crunch of bones beneath his foot, and the bloodied lips quivering, shuttering out apologizes for having the gall to utter your name in his presence. But there's only so much a teenage boy can take, only so much torture that he can bury inside with a moonlight smile. 

Addictions really do funny things to semi-sane people, huh?

It's a split-second decision, done in the heat of an all so regular moment. It's just a simple half-hearted punch when you beat him at another videogame. Then another

And another

And another

Then a crack, another and another, and before either of you knew it you're on the floor screaming out in pure agony. 

Josuke vows he's not being cruel when he breaks your bones so delicately. He can justify every crack, every fracture. Although it's rather repetitive and in certain cases borderline petty. 

Five broken bones on your left leg just for "kissing" your new boyfriend. Your right leg is bent at an angle you're sure it's not meant to be. All because you hugged said new lover before going to class. 

Josuke's once liquidy blue eyes that held the softness of clouds have been dulled over by a sort of thick mania. His once soft touch is nothing but nails digging into already bruised tissue. His lips wobbling as stray tears flow past his eyes. Muttering apologies and stuttering curses at both you and himself.

It's not really like his darling can leave after that incident. Josuke is known around town as the boy with a diamond heart. There's no way in hell anyone will believe what he did to you. It's just better, safer, to stick close to him, to swallow the indignities and paint a loving smile over your face when you gaze into his depraved eyes. 

It's better to pretend to love him, rather than have another limb broken...

"Come on (Y/N), it's just a little crack. If you promise to give me a tiny kiss I'll let Crazy Diamond fix you right up."

⭐Giorno Giovanna is sneaky and manipulative. ⭐

Sono pazzo di te. Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata...

There's a sleekness to Giorno, a cunning that's hidden behind layers of charisma and charm mimicking that of his birth father's. It's so easy for him to fool his darling into believing that he's a charming prince from a storybook. He's the good guy trying all so damn hard to make his dream a reality. He's admirable, he's noble, he's Giorno Giovana, the golden boy.  

It's not like he ever intends to hurt his darling. He'd never dream of laying a hand on them, he's all too familiar with the wounds that come from endless beatings. The bruises and phantom pains, that get worse as the days slip by. He knows real pain, and unlike all so many others on both sides of his family, Giorno doesn't want his lover to experience an uncia of it. 

He'd never repeat what his stepfather and mother did to him. He's going to try and do everything he can to make sure that his darling is safe...

Because isn't that what's important? To make sure the one you love is safe. To make sure they don't get swept off their feet by some masquerading drunkard or taken advantage of by some fanciful sadist. 

Giorno will do anything to keep his darling safe, even if it means tampering with their mind a little. Nothing too serious, he'd never even considered changing anything about them. Although isolating them isn't completely off the table and a few verbal threats are fine from time to time. Just for precaution...

Giorno is a rather determined boy, he'll go to any lengths to isolate his lover. Scaring away friends by letting Gold Experience give them a small out of body experience. If they're persistent then he can't guarantee that that out-of-body experience will simply remain an experience much longer. It's not out of malice, but it's what must be done for the sake of his darling, the only other thing he cares about.

There's a shift, a difference between the young naive Giorno Giovanna, the golden boy with starry eyes, and the new boss of Passione, the Mafioso who holds the whole country in the palm of his hand. 

Oh sure, as a simple Soldato Giorno was dangerous in his own right. But Don Giorno? He's the sort of monster written about in the grimmest fairy tales. Wearing the appearance of a true king but underneath the luxury suits and priceless watches, he's just another greedy, fire-breathing dragon.

As the Don of Italy's most influential gang, Giorno's manipulation tactics have gotten rather ....hazardous. He doesn't have time to waste getting rid of every single person that poses a threat to his darling. If someone looks their way, he'll send some goons to take care of them. 

Although it's so much easier to keep his lover locked away, he even has the perfect excuse now. He's the head of the mafia, he has all so many enemies who jump at the opportunity to hurt him in some way. So he has to keep his defenseless little lover locked away in some mansion that's all so far away. 

He's also a bit more violent now. Giorno's more physical, ready to break a bone just for a wrong word or a cracked jaw from a punch for even asking to go outside. He blames it on the stress of running an organization...although it's more likely that all the power from passion has begun to rinse away Giorno's caring side. 

"Cuore mio, Resta con me per sempre"

⭐Jolyne Kujo is clingy and obsessive and delusional.⭐

I can't stay away from you...

Jolyne is a rather condescending yandere. Her rough ragged exterior does little to hide the clingy neediness that writhes inside her shattered heart.

She's soft, dependent, desperate at best. Wanting her darling to approve of every tiny trifling thing she does. Needing their words of praise and approving smiles to have the courage to live another day. 

At times it seems like the only thing keeping Jojo alive is the  "good girl!" and "I'm proud of you!" her darling throws her way. Chanting the words of praise with closed eyes and fluttering smiles of anxiety. 

It's difficult to make her sweetheart realize how virulent this relationship is, far too hard to call Jolyne a Yandere. The derogatory term applies to someone who ceases all control from their lover, who locks them in a basement, and throws away the key. It applies to murders and 

stalkers and lunatics that roam the streets in the dead of full moon nights. It applies to those who were thrown into Green Dolphin for a reason.

 Not to some girl whose life has been demolished over and over and over again. 

Not to the girl with a star birthmark that follows her darling around like a lost puppy in the freezing rain. 

But even Jolyn has her limits. She's been let down time and time again, abandoned and framed by those she thought she loved unconditionally. From friends to boyfriends to even her own father, everyone leaves, they take what they want, and then they leave. 

Flesh like strings, stitched into a web of antithesis and distraught moods, act as a  solid, interchangeable reminder of who really holds the power in this relationship. Of how Jolyne can go from needing her darling to controlling her darling in just a fraction of a heartbeat. She loves them, she swears she does...but they need to stay close to her, they need to only think about her. 

Her addiction gets worse as the days tick by. It's less romantic, less loving. Morphing into a dependency, a compulsion. Rotting thoughts of her darling suddenly leaving, plague her every waking moment. The once semi pleasant conversations between her lover and her friends, get cut off like a severed limb. 

Even Hermes and Foo Fighters aren't "good enough" to be around Jolyne’s lover. She's all so, scared they'll try to take them from her. Stealing the ONLY good thing in her life.

There's a certain degree of control that Jolyne's willing to give to her darling. A sort of freedom to make, revolting appalling choices, so long as they include her. A freedom to boss her around and make her submit. Her darling is free, so long as that freedom revolves around Jolyne.

"(Y/N)~ don't look at them! You should only focus on me! I'm supposed to be your world!"

⭐Johnny Joestar is sadistic and manipulative.⭐

Arrogance disguised as affection...

It's all degradation, all harsh words that sting worse than bullet wounds. Glares from dull wicked blue eyes that might as well kill, cause it's better than the alternative. Smirks that make being alive so damn distasteful. Kisses that engrave the lingering taste of rotting lead into your tongue.

Johnny isn't sweet, he doesn't smile at his little sweetheart. He doesn't pat their head and kiss their temples while uttering sweet nothings into their blushing ear. No, his lover doesn't deserve a honey-coated life. They don't deserve to have what was stolen from him by his so-called "loved ones". Instead, he uses them as a living dart board, for both his acid-laced words and bullet-like fingernails. 

There's no love when it comes to Jojo. He doesn't want to waste time on something so frivolous as a "significant other". But he does like having someone -or rather something- to play with, a form of entertainment that bends at his will. Not a pushover, not someone who's too proud either. But a living doll that can take a few verbal spats and survive an armada of fingernail bullets through the stomach. 

Oh, sure he wants to break them, having a toy that's so conflicted, that questions their own sanity is so much more fun. But it's the intervals that count. Johnny wants to be the one to break his darling. To engrave the helpless look of distress into his memory. He wants to preserve every scream, every tear. That's the whole purpose of even keeping a darling. 

Johnny rarely lets his darling out of his sight. It's so much easier to play with their mind if he's the only one they ever talk to. They'll become so easily dependent on him if he's their only companion. Although sometimes Gyro can get a little too touchy and friendly. And there will be occasions when Hot Pants start to pry into the darling and Jojo's personal life. But the incidents are few and far between. Not like Johnny minds, if anything these minor secondary "meetups" are useful to the paraplegic jockey. They refill his darling with the most precious thing..." Hope". Just so Johnny can beat it out of them all over again.  

There's a darkness that resides deep within Johnny. A toxicity that laces his actions. His life is miserable and he's damn well sure it'll always be that way.....

So why not take his lover down with him?

"Don't you love me darlin' ? Cause I certainly don't love ya."

⭐Jorge Joestar is delusional and obsessive.⭐

What if we lost our minds, together?

A love story better than his parents, that's all Jorge wants. Flower field dates, and quick lingering kisses before midnight. Something sweet, that doesn't have a macabre end. A romance without body-snatching vampires and zombies that shed their flesh. Something normal, gentle, lovable. 

Although with the family he's been born into and the kind of things that keep finding him. Jorge doubts he's ever going to get such a hopeful love life. He's all so desperate to carve a life for himself outside of his family's shadow, but in the end, it's simply eager wishing. 

He's not exactly sure what he's even looking for in a lover. Someone sweet but strong-willed, an average answer. Someone who bears a sort of resemblance to Lisa Lisa. Not physically but rather mentally, he's not a coward, he swears he's not, but he just wants someone who can protect him. A fair exchange in his eyes. His lover will guard him against the bullies and freaks of the island and in turn, he'll protect them from the grim ghouls that run amok through the world. Although when push comes to shove he isn't sure if he'll really be 'protecting' his lover or running away and hiding somewhere with them.

He just wants to fall in love and not go insane, a reasonable request, if he hadn't seen the worst that the world has to offer. It's just wishful thinking, sweet dreams for a boy designed to attract trouble. 

He doesn't want to have conversations with his dead lover's head. He doesn't want to wear their skin and waltz around town. He doesn't want any of that creepy, supernatural stuff that destroyed his parent's love. 

He just wants normal. But as the years slip by Jorge's grip on "normal" slowly begins to decay.

Normal is something, but what that something is has become a blur. Normal isn't vampires and zombies and ghost clowns that throw nooses around people's necks...Yet on the other hand maybe it is? 

He's so far gone that he can't even differentiate between methodical and irregular. His brain's capacity to understand the difference has gotten so altered and broken.

Once he finds his darling he does try to act like the ordinary people of the Canary Islands or England, depending on where he's residing at the time. He tries to follow the mode, just to impress his lover. It's a façade, a bloody masquerade that's bound to deteriorate once he and his lover have settled down.

Although a poetic, domestic life had always been Jorge's dream, he soon comes to learn that it just doesn't suit him. Jorge's paranoia starts to increase. It's comical at first, the way his eyes dart to closed doors, half expecting a killer to emerge. Although the same paranoid tendencies can become rather smothering at times. He's all so certain something is going to jump out of the shadows, some creature with sharp fangs and knife-like claws is going to rip his lover's body to rags. 

He's gotten rather umbrageous now that he's the one who's married and living in the Joestar estate. His tendency to run away from any form of conflict has morphed into a rogue-like sense, much similar to a rabid dog barking at anyone who gets too close to its territory. He keeps his darling locked away inside, triple-checking the locks to make sure no one or thing can get in. He avoids the probing disquieting neighbors who still speak ill of his widowed mother and murmurs about the "curses" bestowed on the Joestar bloodline. Sometimes even getting physical when the insults shift towards him and his new lover. 

Punches are thrown.

Insults exchanged.

And then the door and windows are locked once more.

Leaving both Jorge and his darling in the chilling company of the semi alive shadows.

It's safer in the basement. It has to be safer down there. After all his mother kept his father's severed head down there for decades before anyone found it. So it's only sensible that his lover will also be safe, tucked away in the darkness of a brick room some few meters under the earth. He's not acting like his mother -and deep down he prays that this isn't something his late father would ever even consider doing- It's a thin line of justification, but he can reason with himself so long as he knows it's not something his other family members have ever done. He does try to keep his darling comfortable down there. Buying them the most luxurious furniture and comfortable bedding. Constantly bringing them new forms of entertainment. 

Keeping them in this preserved state is what any reasonable person would do. Not just another insanity driven Joestar.

"It's for your own safety" he's repeated that phrase an umpteenth amount of times, although every time the sculpted words leave his tongue, Jorge becomes less sure of who he's really trying to convince. 

Jorge is all so sure that he's doing all of this for both his lover's safety and to erase whatever misfortune follows around the Joestars, like an airy plague. Even his enrolling for the great war is done with this mindset...

Even though in the end it's also this mindset that gets him killed. Leaving his darling a wide window to freedom. 

"Darling, what do you think when you look at me?"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[shadyteacup]

A Different Fate

Rengoku Kyojuro x gn!Reader

Angst to Fluff

Word count: 1213

I edited the ending... the story follows just as it did in the show, and the movie, only the end of the movie has been tweaked a bit by me...

This is an apology fic for my bestie Jess @jessbeinme15

Gah, Im so sorry!<3 I hope u like it!

You shivered as the wind gushed past your exposed arms, biting at your skin. You knew you shouldn’t have been so stubborn and should have brought a sweater or at least a cloak along. But you were mad at him, and hence had denied anything and everything he had said.

You sighed, cradling your arms in your palms, curling into yourself as you continued your ascent. Your nichirin laid securely by your side, and your kasugai hid in your pant pocket, fluttering its wings ever so slightly to brush off the bits of snow that got caught in its feathers.

Your Kasugai wasn’t the typical crow, but a tiny sparrow, much like Zenitsu’s. It was very easy for you to plop him in your pockets when he got tired, or at times like these, when the freezing temperatures of the hills made him shiver.

Your mission was to hunt down a demon on top of this pathetically enormous hill and save the small village that resided on a flat section of the rock, from the atrocities committed by it.

The village was very far away, and you had to travel for weeks on foot to reach the damn hill, but it was a fairly easy mission, unlike Rengoku’s.

You knew something was off with the train he was going to board. Your sixth sense was remarkable; almost at par, if not better, than Tanjiro’s nose, and Zenitsu’s ears.

You knew something was fishy with the train, and you were unfortunately right. The message had arrived via Rengoku’s Kasugai, and you were aware of the dangerous situation. The group: Tanjiro, Rengoku, Zenitsu and Inosuke; had encountered two demons, the upper rank three and lower rank one. Defeating the pair is no joke, and this was proven by Rengoku’s condition after the battle. You were heartbroken when you found out that he had suffered major injuries, and that he was missing. He had dashed behind the upper rank demon, and the group lost him in the woods. Neither the demon, nor the hashira were found. The others returned safely, but it had been three weeks, and Rengoku was yet to return.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Kyo.”, you had said.

“I will be fine! Don’t you worry, y/n”, Rengoku had assured you.

“Just listen to me, Kyo, something is not right about your trip! I- I have a very bad feeling about this,”

“It’ll be fine-”

“And you know my intuition is never wrong! At least take another hashira with you!”

“I’m going with three very talented slayers, y/n, he had smiled at you reassuringly, “Don’t you worry, we’ll all be fine. Plus, it will be a lovely learning session for them!”

“Why won’t you just hear me out?! Don’t go! I’m telling you, it’s dangerous, and-”

“I’m going, y/n You’re just being paranoid.”, he said in a gentle but firm tone, ending the conversation.

You huffed in frustration and stomped out of the room, making sure to grab your nichirin in the process. If he was going to be a stubborn oaf, then you weren’t going to waste your breath on him anymore. You had a mission, too, and talking to him was just wasting your time.

“Take a coat along, y/n it’ll be cold up there!”, you heard him shout to you, but you simply marched away.

Not before flipping him the bird, that is.

You furrowed your brows at the memory. It was the last time you had talked to Rengoku, and you sincerely hoped that it wasn’t the last.

Tears stung at the corner of your eyes, but you swallowed thickly and tried to avoid having a breakdown in the middle of a snowy forest.

Just as you were about to turn towards the village, a little voice inside you told you to turn left. You frowned in confusion.

The way to the village was on the right. So why is your intuition telling you to go left? You pondered for a second, before turning left. Your intuition was never wrong.

You mindlessly walked through the snow, letting your body take over your actions. You went where your feet took you.

You travelled quite a distance, until you came across a pink patch. An entire section of the snow had turned pinkish red, a sick color created by large amounts of blood seeping into the multiple layers of snow. You gasped in terror. Whoever had lost this blood, was probably dancing on the edge of death. There was still a chance to save them, however, so you ran in the direction of the pink splatters. You passed various twigs and broken branches, and you let them scratch at your skin, because saving this person was your top priority. You ran and ran, until you heard a muffled groan on your right. Turning, you followed the sound. It was coming from behind a large rock. Maybe they were trying to take shelter from the snow. As you walked over to them, you froze.

There, lying on his side, was your favorite hashira. His fiery red-orange hair, and white coat were unmistakable. You sank to your knees, unable to hold in your emotions.

“Rengoku… You’re..”, you managed to croak out at the man. He smiled warmly at you. One of his eyes was bleeding, and there was a major gash in his torso. He was losing a lot of blood. But that didn’t faze you. What mattered was that he was alive, and that he can be saved.

You dived into him, burying your face in his chest, while ensuring that you didn’t hurt him.

He held you close to his chest as you cried, muttering assurances and words of encouragement.

“Shh, I’m here now.”, he said, pulling you close.

You clutched onto his bloody cloak and sobbed into his warm embrace.

“I told you… I told you! I- I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do! I-”

“Shh, I know.”, he said, smiling sadly, “I should’ve listened to you, is what you’re thinking, ne?”

You nodded.

“If I hadn’t gone, then those boys would’ve been severely injured. They are, in a way, my students. I couldn’t have abandoned them, now, could I?”, he explained.

Your eyes widened in realization. He went because it was dangerous.

You shook your head at his bravery and his protectiveness. He had always been like this. Ever since you had first met him, his warm and bright aura had pulled you to him. His protective personality, unending determination and the natural urge to help others had astounded you. You hadn’t encountered such a kind and genuinely nice person before.

You were truly an idiot. You should have seen this coming. Of course, he would go if the situation was dangerous! He was and always has been ready to die for a good cause. Rengoku was a true hero, one who worked hard only to sacrifice himself for others.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”, you mumbled, pulling back and smiling at him.

He grinned and patted your head lovingly. You leaned into his touch, before helping him up.

“I know. But that’s why you’re with me, right?”, he kissed your head.

You smiled, “Yeah. Now, let’s get you home.”

tagging:

@anarchy-black-cat @707xn @evalynanne @b-i-t-t-i-e-s @kuraxmasha @syynnaaah  @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan-account @alittlesimp @greenshirtimagines @paradise-creator @kiyokoxd @ranposlover @the-foreigner @sakikoshi@h3xa413a @sukunas-cult-leader @ilOvedaydreaming @del1111 @craftypeachmoneyhound @notquitehereorthere @mikasa-stan-account @kenmasbbygrl @alphaofdarkness @duhsies @cees-sims @the-foreigner @uglapuglamuglafugla @sugarandsoft @jadegreenimmortality @flanelsantito @shiny84244 @one-hell-of-otaku-is-here@missrown @requiem626k @sukunas-cult-leader @ilovedaydreaming @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan

@ukiyoo0430 @boineko @missrown @munakara

[evakuality]

Matteo - Episode one

Okay bear with me.  I know I’ve talked about this season a LOT over the last couple of years but I’m not going to do a rewatch (or first watch in some cases) of the Druck seasons and not include this one.  And knowing me, I will be very verbose about this one because I do just love it so much.  Even though I already talked about it at length.

So, to mix things up, I decided to watch this one in real time mode.  Which has been both lovely (revisiting what it was like to follow along with everything back then) and really frustrating (revisiting what it was like to wait for clips back then).  But it’s been a good exercise, particularly with this episode because I didn’t get truly involved in the show til a couple of weeks later so there’s a lot I missed in terms of social media etc the first time around.  So let’s start there.

Social media: It was nice to get the stuff leading in to this season which I hadn’t seen before.  The decisions around moving into the new place and getting Matteo involved etc were all super cute.  I liked the stuff with Sam after her party and how they kept that story - at the time it must really have felt like an immersive thing moving from Mia’s story to Matteo’s.  The stuff around the flatwarming party is interesting too.  Matteo and Sara’s posts make it seem like they’re at two different parties.  Matteo’s has barely and hint of Sara at all whereas hers makes it seem like they were joined at the hip all evening and super happy together.  And then even through the week her things were much more focused on Matteo (and on Leonie’s crush on David) whereas again, with his Sara only comes up if he’s asked about her.  I know it’s very clear in the clips as well, but honestly, the texts and instagram posts etc really make it clear how much she had built this up in her head vs how indifferent he is to it.  One really interesting one is where she asks Leonie not to spread it around that she and Matteo are together.  It suggests that she already knows this isn’t what she wants it to be, but either through desperation or naivety or by lying to herself, Sara doesn’t allow herself to see it.  It’s very sad for her and I do feel for her a lot more than I ever did for Emma.

Clip one: I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again now.  I really really love this clip.  It’s a perfect introduction both to Matteo’s PoV and to all the themes of the season.  Matteo is surrounded by people through the whole thing, and on the surface and from the outside it probably looks like he’s slotted in and having a great time - he talks, he dances, he appears to be having a good time and his social media is curated to make it appear that way too.  But it’s clear since we’re in his PoV that he’s actually isolated and on the outskirts of what’s going on.  That’s done both in the music and sound (the way he fades in on the discordant, out of place note will always always get me as well as the way that the chatter and ‘reality’ of the party only comes into focus when Sara makes him kiss her) and in the conversations that are held.  The way the boys really do just focus on sex sets us up for Matteo’s explosion later where he accuses them of only talking about sex - which is sadly fairly true in these earlier episodes.  And Matteo tries to join in but all he manage is ‘that looks exhausting’ and ‘you bet’ when asked about him and Sara.  The fact that his contribution is about how exhausting sex (and by extension relationships) must be is really telling of his mind set.  Everything is too exhausting for him and he’s not ready to put in much effort at all.  The isolation goes deep with this boy and it’s all already so well shown in this first clip.  I like that we got hints of that through Mia’s season as well (and the seeds were planted in Hanna’s - what with his tagging along to the cabin and his stuff with his family etc etc), and so while this is a much more closed off and sad Matteo than we’ve seen before it’s not come out of the blue.  The fact that he’s still curating his social media to look like he’s happy and connected also reminds us that what we saw before isn’t necessarily what the truth was.

Clip two: I like how Matteo, unlike Isak, is clearly already very well aware of his feelings and his attraction to boys.  His pining over Jonas is both obvious and very sad.  He’s well aware that he can’t let anyone know, and the reminder with the number on Jonas’s arm is gut wrenching for him and for us to watch.  And then scattered through the whole episode is a lot of reminders that Jonas is a ‘player’ now - it’s shown by Jonas himself, by the boys teasing him, by Hanna’s sad little ‘I’m happy for him’ message etc etc.  And all of it serves to remind Matteo that he can never have what he’s wanted for so long.  So it’s no wonder that he removes himself from the situation to go get rolls or whatever it was that he bought.  The ‘I’m waiting for you’ banter would absolutely be the last straw.  Jonas can joke that he wants a guy, but Matteo knows that he’s not going to ever be able to have it be true for real.  As an aside, I can see why a lot of people thought Jonas might be GerEven at the time because a) Matteo’s thing has always been a lot more obvious and b) Jonas seems much more open and willing to consider the ideas.

Clip three: Well, I don’t have a lot to say about this one.  Except that !!!!! this first ‘meeting’ with David is so good and so well done and it works to rock both of them out of their little ruts and makes them both ‘wake up’ in a way.  It’s nothing, just a chance meeting in a hallway, two boys passing then looking back at each other.  But we can see just how much that one glance affected Matteo as he walks off and while we don’t see it in David as yet, he also makes reference to how knocked off course he felt when he met Matteo.  I have always liked that they’re in the same year and so on a real equal footing from the start and this is all part of that.  This moment affects both of them equally, knocking them out of their complacency, and it’s such a perfectly framed and filmed and edited moment.

Clip four: One thing I hadn’t noticed til this time around is that the girl who ends up sitting next to Jonas was at the back of the classroom, already sitting at a desk, earlier.  She obviously saw her moment and scrambled to take it - the second Matteo was out of his seat, she was in it.  Perhaps news of Jonas’s new ‘player’ status is getting out and she wants some of that action.  I really like that Matteo and Amira already clearly have a much more friendly history than Isak and Sana.  They’re both forced to work together by circumstances and a teacher, but here there’s already more of a history.  Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but Sana came to Isak but here Matteo goes to Amira.  That’s because of course Matteo more obviously stashed the weed on Amira and so he immediately knows who has it and where he has to go to get it back.  But it again makes him more proactive than Isak was at this early stage.  Amira is rightfully pissed at him - Sana was defending a friend from Isak’s shitty behaviour, Amira was herself affected and so she is much more firmly involved and has more reason to be cold.  Which works because in general Amira is softer and less aggressive and cold than Sana is so it fits for her to be directly angry for herself.

Clip five: ugh, so uncomfortable!!!  Sara is trying really hard to actually communicate with Matteo, and kudos to her for actually using her words, but it’s so painfully obvious how awkward and artificial this conversation is.  It’s not really a surprise that she doesn’t feel like this is totally settled as yet and asks Leonie to keep it to herself.  On the one hand, he agreed that they’re together (after making her make the decision) but on the other hand, he broke away from kissing etc so they could watch something together.  His words may be saying what Sara wants to hear, but his body language etc is saying something entirely different.  She deserves a whole lot better than Matteo and the way he’s using her, but I guess this is how it can be - he’s cute, he’s not totally rejecting her and so she lets herself believe.  

Clip six: well, again.  This clip does such a good job of properly introducing David with several hints to what’s going on with him but no actual answers.  It’s another example of two people talking at cross purposes, but where Sara lets it drop and the conversation dies out once she hears what she wants to hear, here David picks it up again once Matteo backs off.  Again, they are a good pair - equally invested and equally willing to set and respect boundaries and try to make connections in a safe way.  Imagine how this must look to David - this boy who did shake his world up a bit in their one small moment together (as another aside - ugh the wait between that first sight and this one is so long in real time!!!), is intriguing and interesting and asks him to go smoke with him.  Which is all very cool and David wants these connections and to make friends and this boy clearly appealed to him in some way at that first meeting.  But also, this boy is asking all kinds of invasive question which threaten the things David is trying to keep private, for example the pressing of ‘you’re new’ and how ‘weird’ it is to change schools at this point.  It’s no wonder David goes cold and distant and does his best to stay aloof.  But then of course Matteo respects that boundary and pulls back and so then David is able to make connections in a safer way, talking of things that matter to him but which aren’t quite so confronting for a first chat.  Detroit, running away etc and Matteo shows that he gets it and understands those impulses.  And so by the end they’ve fairly quickly established a connection and a rapport and so Sara’s intrusion is unwelcome to both of them.  Given that David literally runs away when she appears, I wonder how much he knows of her from their shared class.  She certainly doesn’t seem to know much except that he’s the guy Leonie likes.  Speaking of which, Matteo’s ‘I think that’s someone else’ is so bizarre in this situation.  He’s talking to a ‘new’ kid at school and Sara made it clear that Leonie likes the new kid, so he shouldn’t be surprised.  But it’s obvious he already wants David for his own and acknowledging that Leonie may also like him is too much, I guess.  After Jonas and his string of people hanging off him, I doubt Matteo wants to be caught up in something similar with David.  We’ve already seen how painful a crush on an uninterested guy is for Matteo and how much of himself he has to hide away - no wonder he wants David to be ‘someone else’ and actually be someone he can think about in that way after they started to make a connection.

[rhysismydaddy]

Casual Ruin Pt. 5 (Elriel)

Elain's part of the Damnation series.

Last part! I know I said this would be 6/7 parts, but I realized I have no idea what the fuck I had planned to write in those parts, so it's 5 instead hahah. didn't edit the ending whoops

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

__________________________________________

~Elain~

It's three in the morning when I hear it.

We're laying in bed, and even though I should asleep like the man next to me, I can't stop thinking about how little time we have left.

How has the past month gone by so fast?

It feels like yesterday I was standing on my stoop, watching Azriel open up and tell me things he's since admitted he's never told another person.

It feels like yesterday since I decided that I care for him more than I care about what he does.

But it wasn't yesterday; it was a month ago.

A month that's been filled with dinner dates, soft smiles, laughter, and enough tender moments my heart feels full. He's a

The plane ticket hidden in the bottom of my purse is a constant reminder that this is just a summer fling, that it isn't supposed to mean anything. Two weeks from now, I'm supposed to get on that flight and never look back.

Except it feels impossible.

It broke my heart when I walked away from him a month ago, and that was before he told me the details of his life.

Now I know him.

I know about the way he smiles in the morning and how he shakes his head when he laughs, like he can't believe he's doing so. I've learned how ticklish his ribs are, how he likes his coffee, his favorite type of cigarettes.

I know about his family, how his mother died giving birth to him and his father resented him from the day it happened. I know about the first man he killed, how it made him sick. I know what his tattoos really mean.

And what I never could've expected is that everything I've learned, the good and the bad, have tied me to him in a way that feels permanent.

How am I supposed to just walk away from that?

The thought of never seeing his smile, never feeling his rough hands cup my face with a gentleness he doesn't show the world... it feels like missing a part of me.

And it worries me enough I haven't been able to sleep for the past two nights. Like I'm incapable of wasting a minute, I spend the nights watching him sleep.

Which is why I'm perfectly awake when he pulls me close in his sleep and whispers two words that ruin me.

Ti amo.

Tears well in my eyes as I stay perfectly still, replaying the moment over and over.

He loves me.

It's something I knew--something we both probably knew--ever since that day in the rain, but I think we both never said it because we knew our time is limited.

It's been in every touch, every kiss, every moment where we get caught up just staring at each other.

But I want to tell him, I have to tell him, because however good it makes me feel to hear that from him... I know he needs it more.

He's never been loved--never been anyone's first choice, but he's mine, and I want him to know. And I don't want to be just one more person that leaves him and makes him wondering if he'll ever be enough.

So I start to plan.

~A week later, Azriel~

Well, the worst has happened.

I love the fucking woman.

Now my biggest weakness now walks outside my body, with soft brown eyes and dirty blonde hair and bright smiles that light up the world.

And she's leaving in a week.

It scares the shit out of me.

She scares the shit out of me.

Honestly, I hadn't even realized I was in so deep until she said the words "We're done."

All I remember about that day is feeling I'd been stabbed in the chest and looking down to find the blade but not seeing anything but my own hands.

One moment I was convinced I was dying, the next I was in front of her on her stoop, telling her shit I've never told a living soul.

It wasn't then that I realized I love her, but that was when I realized something maybe even more important. I trust her.

Rule 3's been thrown out the window, and I don't even remember when it happened. Was it when she told me I'm not a monster? Or the first time I noticed the way her lips turn up every time I tell her she's beautiful?

Or maybe it was the first time I laid eyes on her as she stumbled into that opera booth, looking like everything I never knew I wanted.

Either way, I'm about a mile up shit's creek with no fucking paddle.

I trust her, love her, and I've only known her ten weeks. Which reminds me, she's leaving.

Which is irritating, because while the mere thought of watching her leave makes me want to level a building, she's currently acting like nothing's wrong.

She's in the bathroom, putting on red lipstick in a slow, taunting way that makes me want to mess it up. I'm sitting in the chair next to my bed, trying to stay calm.

She's watching me watch her in the mirror, and her eyes meet mine for a split second before she looks away, making me suspicious.

That look... I've seen that look before, more times than I can count.

But never from her.

It's a secret.

She looks like she's hiding something.

"Something you need to tell me?" I ask, putting a hand behind my head to prop it up.

Nodding, she comes to stand at the foot of the bed. "Yep."

I raise a brow. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you tonight if you meet me for dinner."

Suspicion and curiosity make me ask, "Where?"

"La Rosa," she responds casually, making me narrow my eyes. It's outside of the city a bit, a small place on the coast I've never had an interest in owning or visiting.

"I've never been there."

"New experiences are good for the soul," she quips, sliding on her sandals. "Just say you'll meet me."

There's a hint of nerves in her voice, so I say, "Of course, dolce mia."

She smiles, victorious. Then she's bounding over, taking my face between her palms, and pressing her mouth to mine.

Before I can ask what she's up to, she's out the door, calling over her shoulder, "Seven o'clock! I'll meet you there."

I get up and slide my jacket on, slipping my hand in the pocket and toying with the piece of metal I've been carrying around for a month.

Sighing, I take it out and throw it on the counter, knowing that if this life has taught me one thing, it's that it won't make a difference.

~

When seven o'clock rolls around, I'm seated at a table, frowning at my surroundings.

I've definitely never been here.

No man has, I'm willing to bet. At least not on his own volition.

There are flowers everywhere. Spilling out of vases, growing on the vines surrounding the open windows, lining the doors that are open to the patio out back.

Besides that, I guess the place isn't too bad, actually. The lights are soft, the weather's nice, and by the smells coming from tables around me, the food will be good.

Elain's running a few minutes late, but she called and told me to go ahead and order.

Apparently, she's come here before, because she told me what to order her. Odd.

A few minutes after I relay the information to the waitress, I spot her coming in the front door and wave her over.

She's a little flushed, her eyes are bright, and the smile on her face gives no doubt she's excited.

I stand up when she reaches me, kiss her, then ask, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she says too quickly. "Did you order?"

"Yeah. Have you been here before or something?"

She nods, diverting her eyes down and to the right in the classic tell of a lie.

I sigh, frustration getting the better of me. "Elain, what are you hiding from me?"

Before she can answer, the food comes. Two plates of pasta are set in front of us, and I know instantly I was right about the food being good.

But no matter how good it looks, there's only one thing on my mind.

"Elain."

She waves a hand. "Just eat, Azriel. I promise I'll tell you in like five minutes."

"Why not just tell me now?"

"It's more dramatic this way," she explains, making me sigh again.

Women.

She's going to give me a fucking heart attack with her drama.

A little aggressively, I stab the fork in the pasta, taking a huge bite.

I feel her eyes on me, watching me eat, but I act like I don't notice, mentally counting down the seconds until five minutes is up.

I'm at 263 when she asks, "Do you like it?"

"What?"

Rolling her eyes, she gestures to the plate in front of me. "Do you like it?"

"It's good," I reply honestly, a little surprised. I've lived here long enough to know the best places to eat, and I've never heard more than a decent review about this place.

"I'm glad," she says, full lips tilting up. "Since I made it."

I don't get it. Did she bring it with her? Is that why she was late?

Also, why did we come to a restaurant if she was going to cook?

"What? Why?"

She tilts her head, smile growing.

Right as my still-counting subconscious gets to five minutes, she explains, "Because I work here."

~Elain~

He stares at me, bite of pasta halfway between his mouth and the plate.

I've been almost bursting at the seems the past four days trying to keep the secret.

I mean, given what the man does for a living, I didn't think I'd make it more than an hour. And while he's definitely been suspicious, I made it.

"What?" he finally asks, dark brows furrowing as he leans in.

"I have a lot to say," I tell him. "So don't interrupt me."

His eyes narrow like they always do when I tell him what to do, but I ignore it and start listing off the different secrets I've been keeping.

I start with the most important.

"First, I love you."

The fork clangs against the plate as he drops it.

I smile, biting my lip and trying not to cry at the look on his face.

"I think I have since that first night when we danced in the bar. Or maybe when you took me to the beach. I don't know." Taking a deep breath, I say, "I tried to stop, when I found out... everything. But it was useless, because I was as in love with you then as I am now."

He shakes his head, almost like he's panicked, but I keep going.

"I love you, Azriel. I want to be with you more than I've ever wanted anything. And I can't bear the thought of leaving you. I don't want to."

Gesturing around us, I say, "I got a job here, and my landlord said she can draw up a lease. And before you say anything, I'm not giving anything up. The past months have felt like paradise, and I love it here. I liked my job in New York, but it wasn't anything I'll miss."

His eyes are so wide, it'd be a little funny if I wasn't so serious.

I take a sip of wine and try to puta brave face on. A lump forms in my throat, but I manage to say, "But we never talked about anything long term, so if this isn't what you want... I'll go. I promise. I just wanted you to know that you're... it for me. You're everything to me. I choose you."

He shudders, closing his eyes, and I take in how tight his jaw is, how close he seems to coming unraveled.

Is he freaking out? I definitely am.

After a few moments, I realize he's still waiting on me, so I laugh and say, "You can talk now."

He doesn't.

He just opens his eyes and stares at me, the shock in his gaze clear to read.

Nerves blossom. I was so sure he'd be happy, but maybe he isn't ready. Voice turning shaky, I ask, "Is this what you want?"

Slowly, he shakes his head, but before I can panic, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, holding it out between us. "I want you to live with me, not at the townhouse."

All the nerves fly out the door, and I laugh, not quite able to believe it.

How long has he been carrying this around?

The tears finally spilling over as I take the key from him. "Okay."

He brushes my cheeks off with his thumb, looking at me like he's never seen anything more beautiful.

Azriel's quiet for a moment, and I give him time, knowing that whatever he wants to say is hard for him.

"Ti amo. Mi spaventa così tanto."

I love you. So much is scares me.

"You? Scared? I don't believe it."

I'm trying to joke and lighten the mood, but he's completely serious as he shakes his head, cupping my jaw with his hand. "You scare the shit out of me, Elain."

My heart clenches, and I fight a fresh wave of tears as I lean into his touch. "You scare me, too."

"But you're not leaving."

It's said like a hopeful promise, like something he needs to hear again and again to accept it's true.

I shake my head. "I'm not leaving," I whisper.

He finally smiles, that big smile I'm positive he only gives me, and leans over the table to kiss me softly. "Say it again."

"I love you."

He kisses me again, and I slide my hands in his hair and kiss him back, feeling like everything before now has led up to this. He's the grand finale, the one I didn't know I was waiting for.

I pull back a little, just far enough to see his reaction as I whisper, "Meet me in the bathroom."

His eyes flare and his mouth drops open, and I laugh as I get up from my seat and try to walk nonchalantly towards the back.

This hadn't been part of the plan, but I've told him I love him, and now... I want to prove it.

Plus, I don't know what it is about him, but he feeds the adventurous side of me like nothing else.

I can feel him watching me from the table as I make my way across the restaurant.

Thankfully, the place is busy tonight, so I don't think anyone notices when, as soon as I shut the bathroom door, he rises to follow me.

A moment later, he slips in with me, taking in the dim lights, closed stall, low music. He flips the lock, and it's like it snaps the thread between us, descending us into chaos.

He's on me in a second, arms wrapping around me and lifting me. My legs bracket his hips as he pushes me up against the wall and traps my hands above my head.

"Say it again," he demands breathlessly, eyes bright and full of heat.

I nip his lower lip, then kiss it softly. "I love you, Azriel."

His mouth crashes into mine, unrestrained and demanding and deep enough I lose myself in him.

My hands are in his hair, his are pushing up the hem of my dress.

There's a brief moment of adjusting, and then he's easing into me. His eyes are on me, his lips are parted, and as I tighten around him, he makes a deep rumbling sound. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

"You're mine," I tell him, tilting my hips to take him deeper. "And I'm yours."

He shudders, eyes going black. "You're mine."

His hips claim mine, then, pulling out and thrusting back in, moving me up the wall. I tighten my fingers in his hair as he hits a spot deep inside me, and he groans.

Moving his hands to my hips, he brings me down as he thrusts up, and I moan, then slap a hand over my mouth.

I work here, for God's sake.

"This is not very professional," I mutter, smiling when his lips twitch.

"No," he agrees, thrusting into me harder. "And it's definitely inappropriate."

I clamp my lips together, pressing my hand to my mouth again to stifle the involuntary whimper I let out.

Azriel grins, tugging on my earlobe with his teeth and whispering, "You might need to go to confessional again."

Rolling my eyes, I move my hands to his shoulders, then lean in to lick up the column of his neck. "Between the two of us, I'd say you're more likely to end up on your knees tonight."

He laughs, tugging my head back to kiss me again. His tongue meets mine in a wet, deep slide that makes me shiver. His hips brush mine. His hands hold me just right, keeping me against him.

Pulling back, he brushes his lips over mine and whispers, "I love you."

The easy, conversational pace is abandoned, and we're moving harder against each other, the only sounds our labored breathing and muffled moans.

He brings a hand to cover my mouth, and I cover his with mine, and we're in tandem, both of us lost in the other.

He comes when I do, driving deeply into me and stilling, his head buried in my neck.

We spend a while like that, and when I eventually slide down the wall, we take our time adjusting our clothes. He keeps stopping me to kiss my shoulder or brow, and I waste too much time just looking at him.

When we're both ready, he extends a hand and grins. "Let's go home."

I smile, unable to help it. "Let's go home."

_____________________________________________

Thank you for reading! This is the last part, although I might do an epilogue one day (don't hold your breath lol).

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