#hes a terrible person in every single sense of the word and nobody here fucking likes him

[jerma85]

i want this man at work to die he is so disgusting and disrespectful and he just fucking burped in my face and hacked a loogie afterwards i genuinely hate this man and feel so much violence towards him he so fucking grotesque

#hes a terrible person in every single sense of the word and nobody here fucking likes him #his boss doesnt even like him but hes a fucking bitch and wont fire him #because it costs him more money to fire someone wnd to have his other coworkers #do over time to cover his share of the workloaf #even though he doesnt do shit at work he doesnt even do any work at fucking all #and he constsntly messes up every single thing he touches #i genuinely hate this man #sorry i just hate him so much he says and does the most rancid shit ever #i hate him so much #i feel like a crazy person over how intense i get about him but honest to god hes the worst #op

[fvllingcamellia]

𝐈𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘

seeing your roommate's instagram posts can't lead to anything.. right?

suguru geto smut, masturbation, substance abuse mention, reader on rehab, reader has a rly bad mental health, at first it's some kind of philosophical shit and then i just went wild so enjoy! btw!! my inspiration was yunonoai's art on twitter, so i'll leave the link here.

you've been feeling terrible lately. you missed the feeling of your brain being stimulated by dopamine. the feeling of happiness was so distant and so unknown lately which caused you to question your entire existence. what's the point of it? you had a good job, nice salary, pretty apartment that you shared with another roommate. but does any of it have any sense? for the world, it doesn't mean anything. you're no one. nobody would remember you if you suddenly disappeared one day. those thoughts were corrupting your mind every single day since you were on rehab. it was supposed to be helpful but it was worse. but you promised, right? you promised to change – for him. suguru geto was the man who almost begged you for this. you didnt know each other for long, but when he moved into your apartment you both understood ourselves well. he wasn't a close friend of yours, just a regular roommate but he helped you to get out of drug addiction. and even if you were feeling shitty, you were extremely grateful for this.

the amount of stress you were experiencing lately was insane. during the rehab you became really sensitive and the slightest words could made you furious or sad. you've been experiencing a lot of mood swings that were exhausting in some way. the frustrations were so unbearable that you found yourself on your bed wondering how could you let all of those thoughts and feelings get away from you. you've been scrolling down on instagram checking those stupid posts and photos of your so called "friends" that doesn't even bother to text or call you to check if you're still alive. but as you've scrolled down the page you stopped. one post where geto was tagged caught your eye. this picture made you think that your roommate was actually incredibly attractive. you've never been interested in him in any romantic way. he was just a guy, a roommate to you. but as you were admiring the photo.. the more excited you felt. you didnt even realized that your hand was slowly sliding down on your abdomen. instead of looking at only one photo you started checking his entire social media activity to find more posts. and he looked so good in every photo he uploaded. you put down the phone. it was enough for you.

your fingers were moving dangerously down to your panties. at first you were hesitant about this. fuck what kind of a person masturbates to their roommate's photos. but you didn't care. it was something you NEEDED to feel right now. you slowly moved the material away and brushed your finger over your clit. you squeaked. you haven't touched yourself or had any sexual intercourse in a long time so you needed to explore your body again. you brushed your finger again, but this time over your inner lips, and oh my god since when you were so wet? you were desperate now. this feeling made you slid down your pants along with your underwear completely exposing your lower parts. suguru wasn't at home yet, he went out for some groceries about 20 minutes ago so you could be as loud as you wanted to be. you took a deep breath before touching your folds again. you started from rubbing your clitoris. your head was turned towards the phone on which still appeared suguru's photo. you looked at him imagining it was him who was pleasuring you right now. you imagined his fingers working on your pussy, abusing your sensitive clit.

gaps were leaving your mouth and free hand moved up to your chest you slid it under your bra and while stimulating your pussy you also took great care of your boobs. squeezing them, massaging, pinching your nipples doing almost everything to them. slowly you moved your fingers down, to your hole. you bit down your lower lip and you inserted one finger, pushing it slowly further. but it wasn't enough. you wanted to feel more inside, so you added another one. stretching yourself while moaning and whinning geto's name seemed like something unreal. but it was real experience, fingering yourself while fantasising about him.

– just got home satoru, cooking for y/n tonight. – suguru answered as he was opening the door to the apartment. he was on line with gojo who was complaining about his life for 45 minutes straight. – ill talk to you later.

– you fucked her finally? – the white haired man asked with a curiosity. he always had some weird speculations in his head and one of them was the theory that geto was banging his as satoru said "sweet roommate"

– dude don't be ridiculous. im hanging up. – suguru frowned and ended the call. he closed the door and started walking towards the kitchen. he placed the groceries on the counter and wanted to get changed to he went into the direction of his bedroom but he stopped midway. he couldn't believe his ears and the sounds he was hearing. whines and other octaves of moans coming from your room. most of them were his name in many varieties or words like "fuck," "i want more," "faster."

geto was completely confused. he was standing next to your door wondering who was more perverted – suguru listening to your sweet moment, or you who was pleasuring yourself while screaming his name without shame. but he decided to not make any moves and he simply went to his own bedroom as he had originally planned. but he couldn't stop thinking about you. listening to you made him hard, and geto could only imagine how you look right now and what you're doing to yourself. he had many visions of you right now. how would you look under him when he would fuck your brain out? how would you taste if he had a chance to eat you out someday? how would you look with your lips around his cock? all those thoughts lead him to the one most important question – maybe he should finally fuck you just like satoru theorised?

#fumiswritings #jujutsu kaisen #anime #jjk #manga #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut #jjk smut #jjk geto #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

[primasveraas-writing]

"the holy or the broken" -Ted Lasso

I'm so sorry.

WORD COUNT: 2401

XXX

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and they’re all defined by the same woman.

The third echoes the first: Roy Kent, angry at the world with no one to pull him out of his frustration. It’s also worse, though, because before, Roy lived in blissful ignorance of the joy and sorrow that laid ahead.

Rebecca and Ted express their surprise at Roy’s anger. They thought him changed, or perhaps that grief would prevail over rage, and they were wrong. Because Roy Kent, when stripped of everything he is -his athleticism and grim humor and the love of his life- has anger. Nothing less and nothing more.

At first, he can’t say her name. He doesn’t even think it, because every reminder of her is a reminder that she’s gone. Despite her mark on everything- the furniture they picked out together, the bed they shared, her usual seat at the dining table, the compliments she gave his hair and clothes- Roy doesn’t think of her. Which means he doesn’t think at all, so he becomes his anger and his pain, and nothing else.

He stops coaching, obviously. Nobody asks him if he’ll keep going, nor does he announce his departure. His absence, professionally, personally, emotionally- is expected fully. Though people still coming to the fucking house. He tolerates her parents, and Phoebe once or twice, but eventually the visits dwindle, and Roy doesn’t check his phone or answer the door. There’s shouting, sometimes- inevitably Ted Lasso- but Roy has soundproof headphones for a reason and he’s perfectly fine with calling the cops on Ted. And he does, more than once.

His sister begs him to talk to her, or at least to Phoebe, and Roy, in all his anger, doesn’t have the heart to turn his niece away. So it’s just her and Roy, a few days a week, and they order food directly to the house and Phoebe tells him about school, and he grunts in acknowledgment. She cries sometimes too, and that’s when he holds her. No words are exchanged, but he comforts her, enough so that the sobs stop. The numb feeling he has remains intact.

The yoga moms scout his address, somehow, and drop off a wine basket- they drink in relative silence, and clean up his house and make a few casseroles. He picks at the food, but they slowly disappear, and it’s almost nice to eat more than once or twice a day.

It doesn’t get easier. People tell him it will, that the pain will start to lessen, but it doesn’t. Not three weeks after, or four, or five, or when summer emerges and the lilies bloom.

Roy’s not particularly good at adapting. He never wanted to be. And it’s bullshit that he’d have to start now, for some shit fucking luck and life-alerting occurrences he never saw coming.

Because he never expected that there would be an “after” regarding Keeley Jones. It’s not something he planned for and certainly not something he ever wanted. It’s just: one breath she’s there and the next, she’s not. Gone and the house empty, her office too, and suddenly every space at Richmond is filled with flowers because Roy doesn’t accept a single bouquet.

He does start to say her name, although only to his sister- the only adult he talks to. He spits it out, with venom, and he suspects that it’s this habit that prompts Rebecca to show up at his house.

She sneaks her way in, the stubborn shit. Apparently, she hid down the street until he ordered food, bribed the deliverer with an obscene amount of money, and rang his doorbell herself. Rebecca slips into the entry before Roy realizes it’s her, and slams the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses, and to her credit, Rebecca doesn’t flinch. She gives her best businesswoman smile, the one that so directly contradicts the flint in her eyes, and straightens.

“Someone informed me that you made developments in your grief-

“Fuck you-”

“-so I thought a visit was due.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Somebody told me once that I was always welcome in her home. Has that changed?”

“Yeah. She’s fucking dead.”

Rebecca does bristle at that one but she doesn’t challenge the statement. Instead, she clears her throat, setting Roy’s food down on the table in the foyer.

“Your sister told me how quiet you’ve been. And that any time you talk about Keeley, you do so with an incredible amount of anger.”

Roy doesn’t deign to respond, glowering at Rebecca instead. She takes a look around the room, in all its dusty glory. Lights off, trash piling on the floor, clothes strewn over backs of couches. It matches Roy, in terms of appearance. Unkept. Uncared for. Unloved.

“I’m calling the police,” Roy decides, scanning the room for his phone. “You can’t fucking impersonate a food deliverer. Or fucking be here when I don’t want you to be.”

“I paid him handsomely-”

“-illegal. And fireable.”

“-enough so that his salary for the next few months should be covered.”

“Get out.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you’re here to fucking do or say. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“And leave you to stew in your anger and your filth? I don’t think so.”

And Rebecca struts into his living room and seats herself on a sofa.

“Dr. Sharon proposed to me that your anger had legitimate grounds. Not just your usual brooding about playing and coaching a game for a living, but you know,” Rebecca gestures to Roy. “Real reasons to be so surly.”

“My fucking wife died.”

“Yes, well. My best friend died yet I’ve been outside over the past few months.” She gives Roy another placid smile. “Despite the fact that I’m mourning.”

“It’s different.”

“Undoubtedly, yes. You’ve been much unhealthier in your habits.”

“Fuck you,” Roy growls. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“No.” Keeley would refer to that as Rebecca’s scariest tone. “I came to talk.”

“I don’t care.” His hands clench into fists.

“You’re angry at Keeley.”

“I’m fucking pissed at you and your fucking break-in habits. Did you fucking compare notes with fucking Lasso?”

“You need someplace to direct your anger, and since fate dealt you both such a terrible hand, the only thing you can think to do is blame Keeley.”

“That makes as much fucking sense as you impersonating a takeaway driver. Fuck you.”

“So you go from not being able to say her name to saying it like a curse because you’re much more comfortable with your anger than sorrow.”

“I can say Keeley’s name.”

“Can you say it without sounding like the angriest person on the entire planet, Roy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Well?” Rebecca stands. In heels, she towers over Roy, who glares right back at her. “Show me you can, Roy.”

“I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“No. But I asked you to.”

“I’m not fucking angry at my dead fucking wife.”

‘You’re angry at someone.”

“Yeah. You.”

“Come on now, Roy. Do better.”

“I’m NOT fucking angry at Keeley!”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Fuck you.” Roy paces before her, ignoring how every step makes his knee throb. “Fuck you, fuck off. Fuck you.”

“Are you even sad?” Rebecca says quietly, and Roy freezes, his muscles clenching painfully.

“Ask me again,” he dares, his tone low. He takes a step closer to Rebecca, who remains unfazed.

“I said: are you sad your wife died in your arms, Roy?”

“Fuck you!” Roy bellows. He spins away to upturn the coffee table, sending dishes crashing to the floor.

“Do you miss her? Do you wish she hadn’t died?”

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

“So I’ll see Keeley again. How lovely.”

Roy roars, using the full force of his body to punch a hole in the wall. His fist comes out covered in plaster, bright red blood leaking from his knuckles dusted white.

“She fucking died in a freak fucking accident. There’s nothing- nothing- she could have done differently.”

“But she left you.”

“She fucking- she-” Roy’s chest heaves as he looks wildly around the room, at anything but the woman in front of him. “She was supposed to get her fucking nails done. We were going to get Thai for dinner. We had a sexy fucking weekend planned, and she was going to come home and it all would have been fucking fine.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“We can’t do any of that shit. Can’t fucking fall asleep next to her ever again. Or hold her fucking hand. We had fucking plans-” His words catch in his throat, and he looks away, examining the new damage to the wall. “We had plans.”

“Roy-”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes. “You riled me up. Is that what you fucking wanted?”

“Yes,” Rebecca admits, and she retakes her seat on the couch, disregarding the surrounding wreckage. “Since the one person you want to talk to is gone, I figured I’d substitute.”

Roy glances around the house, at the forgotten groceries by the entrance, at the overturned table, and at the destroyed wall. “Good fucking job.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca says swiftly. “I figured I’d be better at it than Ted.”

“I’d have fucking killed him.”

“I thought so.” Rebecca sighs, massaging her temple. For the first time since her arrival, her bravado fades and her shoulders slump. It’s a familiar sight, one Roy witnessed the last time he saw Rebecca- at Keeley’s funeral, where all traces of the usually confident woman had faded away, and a grieving shell stood in her place. “Is that it, then? All the anger is for what’s never to be?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“And this is the first time you’re realizing it?”

Roy’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, it is.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Okay.”

Silence prevails for a long while, then Roy sighs and takes a seat next to Rebecca.

“You know, my office has quite literally never been quieter. Even with Ted bursting in at all hours, it’s just… not the same. I started to get frustrated at Higgins trying to coordinate with me simply because he’s not the person I want to see. And then I woke up angry, too. Absolutely pissed at the sun just for rising. Because every day that I experience is one I should be sharing with her.”

She looks down at her hands, which tremble slightly. “It’s not fair. And I have nowhere to put all my anger and blame.”

Roy wordlessly gestures to the wall, and Rebecca gives a soft laugh.

“There’s one option.” Then, she swipes at her eyes, and sniffs.

“Keeley would have never forgiven any of us if we gave up on you, Roy.”

“I know.” He clears his throat. “She told me as much. About me.” He rolls his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “I’m not supposed to give up on myself.”

“Good job,” Rebecca retorts, and Roy growls, but Rebecca gives another breathy laugh. “You didn’t call the police on me. I’d say that’s a good sign.”

“Don’t let it go to your fucking head.”

“No. Of course not.”

“Thank you,” Roy says very, very quietly. Rebecca takes his hand and squeezes it briefly. Her palm comes away coated in dust and blood.

“Clean up, Roy,” she tells him, standing. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

-

Rebecca leaves, but she sends over a team of cleaners and a fresh batch of groceries. For the first time since Keeley died, his fridge is fully stocked with food for him to make into meals, and the house is spotless. He sends a text to his sister, telling her to fuck off in a way she’ll know means thank you, and showers. He trims his beard and dries himself off with a freshly laundered towel, then he falls asleep ass naked on the bed and sleeps for twelve hours.

He goes to see Phoebe and the rest of his family. They catch him up on all the petty bullshit he doesn’t give a fuck about, and it’s nearly normal, except that he drives home alone to an empty house.

He goes back to yoga, and every stretch feels like he’s never done a downward dog before in his life. Still, the wine after is good, and he ends up going home with a spare bottle and another casserole, and so another part of his life resumes.

It’s a slow process. Richmond is a hard place to face, with Ted trying to be casual as he checks in on him, and the boys stepping around him like glass, and Jaime Tartt in tears when he first catches sight of Roy. Her office, the lack of visits from his wife during the day, and the plaque commemorating her on the wall hurt like getting that phone call all over again. But it’s the beginning of the mourning process, Dr. Sharon will tell him, and now that it’s started, the hurt will eventually lessen.

With every end, a beginning.

Roy takes his first steps.

-

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and a thousand different Roys.

There’s the prodigy footballer, eight years old and scoring goal after goal in every match. There’s the Chelsea player, a championship winner, then the Richmond player, bittered by age. Injured Roy Kent, retired, coaching his kid niece’s football team. Then, briefly: professional commentator. Richmond coach.

Roy Kent, who fucking hates Jaime Tartt except usually his girlfriend is nice at least. Roy Kent, Keeley’s boyfriend. Roy Kent, Keeley’s fiancé, husband- widower.

Roy Kent- a bastard luckily enough that Keeley loved him too. Roy Kent, who lit up when she walked into the room, who smiled more during their time together than he ever had before in his life. Who wanted to start a family with her. Who doted on his wife and promised her the world and a thousand other cheesy things, because she had that power over him.

Roy, who was beside her at the very end, who evoked her last words and smile. Roy, who had that horrible, painful privilege of easing his wife’s passing with reassurances and small comforts and anything he could do to make her feel his love.

Roy, who loves her still. Who’ll die loving her and missing her, and wishing they had just one more day.

Roy, who learns to live to make her proud.

#roy kent #keeley jones #roy x keeley #roy x keeley fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #roy x keeley fanfiction #roy x keeley imagine #roy kent x keeley jones #keeley x roy #angst #oops im so sorry yal #rebecca welton

[burnedbyshoto]

shinsou and the very terrible, horrible, no good, very bad shift

— You, a new sidekick, screw up a case for a Pro Hero Shinsou, and he demands compensation.

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pairing: older!shinsou hitoshi x younger fem!reader

warnings: age gap (shinsou 25, reader 18), nsfw, 18+, pwp, DEGRADATION, power imbalance, spanking, marking, cursing, shinsou is a major asshole, mindbreak, sorta subspace, happy ending for shinsou, depending on person unhappy ending for reader, public sex, dubcon because of power imbalance

word count: 3,892

a/n: happy halloween. this is mean degradation imo like I thought ive done degradation but this made all those look like praise kink. be careful and click out if its too much

kinktober day 20 main kink: degradation | kinktober masterlist

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

How you ever forgot that as a high school hero-in-training student, you were a big fish in a tiny pond was beyond you. Well, to be quite honest, you never thought yourself to be a big fish, to begin with.

You were eighteen, a few months from turning nineteen and had just graduated from the hero course over at UA. That in itself was a huge accomplishment, one that you should take with bubbling pride and joy, but to be quite honest, having such a big name attached to you only made you nervous. To tell the truth, you often wondered just why a hero within the top 50 even scouted you to work as an intern with them and then offer you a position as a sidekick as soon as you entered your third year. Still, it seemed to be a common predicament with BMI Hero: FatGum.

Today was your first day on the job, no longer a student part of a hero work-study, but as a physical, government paid hero — a fickle sidekick! You shuddered as you slipped on the shoes to your outfit, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you made your way out of the locker room, ready to report to your first assignment.

FatGum agency was quite a lovely place, loud and warm, being the first two adjectives you thought of when you first joined their ranks. It did wonders for your self-esteem, and seeing newly turned Pro Hero Suneater, who apparently was a million times more of a nervous mess than you were, made you feel oddly in good hands.

But still, nothing could keep you from the shock that ran through your body when FatGum proudly thrust forward a patrol route for you to follow.

“Alright, pipsqueak,” FatGum jovially spoke, his eyes closed while he smiled. “This is your route for the day! It should take about an hour to get through unless anything happens! You’ll go on the route every three hours, and in between those patrols, it’s the same paper system as before! Good luck out there, y/h/n, you got this!”

“Oh my god, no, I do not?!” you spluttered, hands shaking wildly as you went through the folder Fat had so quickly presented. “What if I die?!”

“You’ll be fine. Remember how Deku and Ground Zero complimented you the other day?”

“Yeah!” you exclaim, your face burning with your shame as you remembered that confrontation. “But that only happened because Deku is a living saint, and I spilled my noodles all over him and Ground Zero! Ground Zero was also, by the way, forced to compliment me by Deku! And all he said was that my combat skills were absolutely shitty but not as shitty as he thought they would be!”

“Ah yes, I remember Red Riot discussing how his friend was less than inept at expressing his gratitude,” FatGum hummed in memory, although that dumb, proud smile never left his face. “If I remember correctly, that means he has great respect for you!”

You made a dying noise at the back of your throat.

“But Deku doesn’t lie! He speaks honestly, so all his compliments were definitely true. Now, y/h/n, let's get through this day together, ne?”

You didn’t agree, but that wouldn’t stop him from throwing you out to the streets, your heart hammering in your throat as you walked through the path he used to take you on every day. Your smile was shaky and wobbly as the people you recognized waved and cheered you on. They were all excited to see you on your own. 

However, they did point out that you were here an entire hour earlier than usual, but hey! That’s what happened when you went from being a student to trying to function as an adult!

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” you chanted as you passed by the spookiest alleyway on your patrol.

The hour-long patrol was almost done if your watch wasn’t lying to you: a full patrol and not a single instance of needing to help. Well, you had assisted some people in carrying groceries and holding a child as a mother shopped for dinner that night, but there were no altercations, nothing out of the ordinary. 

You marched through the alleyway, your fists in a shaky clenched grip as cold, nervous sweat dripped down your neck.

You were okay, you are okay, you will be okay.

“Nothing to be afraid of! Just a normal, average, no villains insight day!” you spoke to yourself, your body shaking as you pass an opening in the alleyway, and you turn your head to look and freeze.

“Alright, and I don’t want fucking nobody hearing goddamn shit about this drug, got it?!” a man with a quirk that made him look like a blowfish snapped.

Six men stood in the alleyway, all with tall, massive, threatening vibes. You didn’t make a single noise; you knew that for a fact, but their gazes still fell on you the moment the man stopped speaking. A horrible, stupid movie cliche that happened too often in hero life.

Your life probably flashed before your eyes at that single moment, your body and mind instinctively moving to call the heroes before realizing that you were the hero now. What do you do?! What could you do?! Drugs?! Did they have drugs?!

Panicking greatly, you watched their mouths move, but you couldn’t hear them as you took in their faces in a blur. Before you knew it, your mind shut down, and your body took over. You weren’t sure what it was. If you were way stronger than the entire group or if you just had an untapped potential that burst open right now, because you blinked and suddenly there were all thrown onto the floor, busted and bloody and tied up.

You… you did it?!

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, your hands rising to your mouth as you looked at each and every one of their smushed, dirty faces. “I WON?! I won, oh my god, I won — wait?!”

You stepped over to the purple-haired man on the floor, his mouth stuffed with a cloth fabric you probably shoved in there at some point.

“M-Mindjack-sensei?!” you cried, your excitement of betting this drug handoff simmering off immediately. “W-What are you doing? Were you gonna stop this drug handoff? I — oh my god, let me get this off!” You scrambled to get the restraints off of Shinsou, unaware of the way the other captured men glared at Shinsou, utterly shocked and betrayed as you cleared him.

“Thank you for the capture, y/h/n!” a police officer congratulated you as you freed Shinsou, and you smiled, nodding your head. “Is it just four of them?”

You froze.

You had counted six men at first, and with Shinsou recovered, that made five men.

“I didn’t… I lost one of them?” you deflated, all sense of confidence draining you as Shinsou remained on the floor.

“Ah,” the police officer grimaced, his head shaking before he paused and looked up at you with a halfhearted smile. “Well, you still did good work! We’ll see what drug they were talking about, and if it’s nothing too crazy, they’ll be good to go!”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile weakly, feeling ready to cry as you hold onto your wrist.

“But, uh, who’s the guy on the ground?” he nodded towards Shinsou, who was looking entirely pissed off and ready to bite like some cornered, raging animal.

“Oh, Mindjack!” you respond, hands motioning toward one of the other older Pro Heroes you looked up to. 

The police officer stared at Shinsou, an unconvinced look on his face.

“I thought he was… ah, well, old? And didn’t he have black hair?” he muttered before shrugging. You didn’t manage to stutter out your knowledge of the older man with black hair being Eraserhead because he was long gone already, fingers pressed to his radio, chatting with his HQ.

Breathing out a nervous sigh, you turned to Shinsou with a shy and fully apologetic smile. “I am so sorry for hurting you! Are you okay?” you asked, your eyes scanning the older heroes' stance, unable to read anything but annoyance radiating from his body. 

“No, I’m not okay, actually,” Shinsou spat, his face finally looking up from the floor, and you felt your throat run thick at the rage and anger simmering from his face. 

“W-Wha—” you stammer, taking a step back, overwhelmed.

“You just fucking ruined six months of undercover work,” he seethed, his feet moving to stalk towards you. You found yourself stumbling backward, looking everywhere but at him. You can feel your balance giving; the cold filth of the alleyway wall your saving grace as his fingers grabbed your jaw, forcing you to face him. His purple eyes black in his fury. “I don’t think you realized just how badly you fucked up?! You stupid fucking child!”

A wash of ice-cold realization flooded through you, the horror of what you knew you just did completely dawning on you as tears sprung in your eyes. You felt nauseous, utterly sick to your stomach because this seasoned Pro Hero definitely had shit to do, and you practically shat all over it.

“I am so sorry,” you whimper, pain shooting through you just slightly at the grip he has on your chin. “I am so so sorry, i-is there anything that I c-can do?! How can I-I fix it?!”

“You think I need help from some crybaby?” Shinsou snapped, thoroughly unimpressed by you, his eyes narrowing further. You didn’t even realize you were crying already. 

“I-I’m useful, I promise!” you cry a bit more, your body struggling as the older hero trapped you against the wall, his face glowering down at you with the intensity of a million suns. “I-I’m a sidekick over a-at Fatgum’s agency, but, oh fuck, I’m so sorry! I’ll do anything you ask of me!”

There’s a looming silence, a heavy tension as his eyes drop from your eyes to your parted wet lips. He’s much taller than you, and you can feel every heavy breath expelling on your face. 

“You think a pathetic, worthless little sidekick is able to do anything for me?” Shinsou snapped, his eyes narrowing as he loomed even closer. “A pathetic fucking bitch like you? I don’t think you can give me even a simple fucking action that would prove your worth.”

The words are hot embers on your ears, making your jaw drop, and your body trembles at the simple degradation. You feel your tears hot on your cheeks, your parted lips invaded by his dirt-covered fingers as he pressed onto your tongue. It had to be the shock of it, the reality of the hot, hard dick pressing into your stomach and the way he was staring at you like some piece of fucking meat, but you gagged around his fingers.

“Why am I not fucking surprised, you goddamn fucking whore,” he sneered, his fingers shoving faster into your mouth, pressing dangerously hard against your tongue, trying to get you to gag and choke around his fingers. “You fucking sure you’re a fucking sidekick? Look at you, pathetic, stupid, crying like a baby in an alleyway? You’re a hero, aren’t you? Fucking save yourself from this, you fucking bitch.”

You violently shake, your hands finding themselves tethered to his shirt, your head shaking nonetheless.

“Oh, you don’t want to save yourself?” He coos, his expression turning the slightest bit amused, maybe a bit possessive, but it lasts a second. You blink, and anger has replaced the amusement, red streaking in his vision. “Why the fuck not?”

“B-Because,” you strangle, your tongue flat against your mouth, your throat instinctively opening and closing against his fingers. “I said I’ll do anything y-you wanted!”

There’s another pause, and you wait pressed against the wall, your chest heaving with your anxiety and weird turned-on state. Shinsou was a Pro Hero, someone who was eight years older than you, someone you had respected since you were in grade school. Yet, here you were, looking nothing more than a slab of meat to him, a hole for him to abuse in his anger because you had fucked up.

“Oh, you stupid fucking slut,” he laughed, his teethed bared into a feral smirk. “You want this, huh. You want to please me any way I see fucking fit, fucking perfect. Turn around.”

There’s no room to argue or think; he turns you around without a second's notice. His hand shoving your chest into the wall, and you cry at the discomfort. He grabs your ass, pushing you uncomfortably into an arched position as he tears your pants down from your legs.

 “You’re a worthless fucking cumdump. Not even noon yet, and I’m going use your fucking body however I see fit.” Shinsou promises, fingers raking down your supple ass. Nails tearing into your skin, fingers slapping your covered cunt. “You worthless fucking slut, dirty fucking whore, already goddamn wet.”

“I’m n-not wet!” you cry, hips spasming against his rough hold, and slaps to your aching cunt. You know it’s a lie, you know that clear as day, but it doesn’t keep you from lying. Doesn’t stop you from shivering when he pinches at the cloth of your panties and removes them from your sopping wet folds.

“You think I don’t know if you’re wet or not?” Shinsou growled in warning, his fingers pinching together your soaked folds. An action that makes you cry loudly, the sharp pain too much for you. “You think I’m some fucking idiot?”

“N-No!” you cry, his fingers shifting to where your throbbing entrance is and his other hand going to your mouth, once again claiming your lips as his nails purposefully impose pain on your heated cunt. 

“You must think that since you’re lying to me,” he snaps, his mouth pressed to your ear, his hot breaths making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You want to speak up, say something, but his fingers are fucking your mouth, keeping you from speaking back. “But again, you aren’t fucking worth anything, are you? You’re not fucking anything.”

Those words whip against your skin, making you twist in his arms, hot tears pushing past your eyes again as you cry.

“Oh, you don’t like that?” Shinsou comments, his fingers pinching and pulling your tongue, and his hips begin to grind his hot, burning flesh into your ass. “Well, you better stop fucking crying because I’m not gonna stop until I’m fucking done — until I’m fucking relieved. This isn’t about you; this is for me. You aren’t shit, fucking worthless piece of shit whore.”

You sob into the brick wall, the tears unable to be stopped, unable to clear as his fingers that were scraping at your folds begin to fuck you at the same time as he fingers your mouth faster. The sensation of being outside, finger fucked in an alleyway by a Pro Hero you admired and respected beyond comparison, made you tremble with want and need. His cruel, completely degrading words a warm fire in your belly and against your skin. 

The sounds of the wet caverns he was currently fucking begin to echo in the wall, his throbbing cock grinding against your ass. It’s a sensation that makes you cry with need, your ass shifting back to feel him more, to get more from the contact he’s giving you.

“Of course some screwup like you likes this shit,” Shinsou grunted, his fingers fishing and rubbing against the spongy warmth of your walls, fingers scraping ever so gently against the velvetiness. You spasm against his touch, your whiney, pleasure-filled noises filling up the alleyway almost as loudly as the choking and the squelching of your pussy.

His hands suddenly leave your mouth, and you’re heaving at the deserted feeling in your mouth. You whip your head around, trying to see just why he had abandoned your mouth, desperate to please him more in any way he saw fit. But instead, you’re met with the sicky coldness of your saliva spread across your face. Almost instantly drying against your face as your still tear-soaked eyes looked into his dark ones.

“Don’t look so fucking sad, stupid cockslut,” Shinsou snapped, his hand that had been fucking your cunt abandoning your warmth and meeting your face. You whined, unable to come up with words as he spreads your slick against your face. A shiver wrecks your spine, a pathetic whimper at the smell, and the feel of the warm thickness of your slick. “You wanted this, fucking asked me to wreck your worthless holes.”

“I-I’m not sad,” you try to defend yourself, your body shaking as you feel the heated warmth of his cock suddenly between the curves of your ass. It presses heavily onto you, skin twitching and throbbing with its emitting warmth and simmering heat. 

Shinsou pauses, his eyes deadly and threatening as he glares at you. Unamusement heavy in his gaze, his mouth set in a small, teeth-baring snarl. “Then why the fuck are you crying? You think you deserve to be crying right now? No. You fucking worthless slut, you don’t. You ruined my damn shift, my damn case, I should be the one fucking crying. Your pathetic ass is worthless and tried to make my life the same, and that won’t fucking fly.”

The words tighten at your throat, your body trembling as tears continue to flow. His words are white-hot against your skin, and although it hurts to hear it, your cunt clenches in response, slicking even more.

His hand comes down suddenly onto your ass. The slap sharp and stinging, echoing loudly against the alleyway walls as you scream in pain. It throbs, your back contorting as you try to stretch the skin that makes you ache. But Shinsou spanks your ass again, without warning, his hand unmerciful against your soft, swelling flesh. You yelp again.

He spanks again, and again, and again. Each echoing action sending your voice screaming, counting them without even being told, succumbed to him and his every action and thought without needing to be. He spanks you until your ass feels raw and bloody, the bruises undoubtedly forming as he pinches the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Stick your ass out more,” he growls, tugging at the fold, making you stumble. The cock pressing onto the split of your ass feels heavy, and you twitch at the seeping pre-cum dripping onto your muscled rim. The bricks scratch at your face, and you find your ass wiggling out further from the wall, your back arched more as the cold wall sings through the clothes on your breast. “I’m not gonna put more fucking effort into fucking a goddamn worthless bitch than I should.”

And with that, your ass perfectly exposed for him to use and fuck. His throbbing cock presses through your pussy and slams all the way into you.

There were many pains you were used to as an aspiring hero. You were used to being punched, kicked, stabbed, thrown about, etc. Each of those pains were something you had been taught to make feel better, each pain demonstrated to you so that it wouldn’t be the thing that took you out. But there was no training for the way that his thick cock pressed through your impossibly tight entrance. There was no pain that could relate to the white fire of your rapidly fluttering entrance that was trying too hard to keep up with his slamming thick cock.

“IT HURTS!” you shriek, body twisting, tears flooding your cheeks as you feel weak in the legs. Body moments from falling. “It hurts so much! Please! It hurts!”

“Oh? It hurts? It's supposed to fucking hurt you fucking idiot, fucking whore,” Shinsou snapped in return, his hips firing into even faster than before. His massive body practically caving onto you as his cock rockets into you. Unforgiving, relentless, and with the drive to make him cum. Your vision swirls and spins as the pain reaches its peak, your mouth opening, your voice no longer working. But oh, how the saliva dripped from your mouth as his hands abandoned your waist to grab onto your stretched cheeks. He held onto your cheeks like some gag, slamming your head into his chest so your dazed eyes could stare up at him as his menacing gaze bore down on you. “You think this was supposed to make you feel good? I don’t give a shit if you cum. This is for me. I’m not fucking stopping until I’m done using you, so shut the fuck up.”

Your whimper is soft, no longer able to keep up with the pleasure your body begins to reach as the pain becomes one of pure bliss. Your eyes crossing as every thrust of his welcomed cock drives you further and further up the wall. The squelching of your meeting sexes almost sounds like a nursery rhyme. A pleasant noise that makes you giggle deliriously as Shinsou continues to degrade you continues to spout how insignificant you are.

“Your only purpose in your shit life is to be my fucking cumdump, fucking bitch, do you understand me?” Shinsou spat, his thrusting becoming barbaric, stammering in his power and speed. You laugh, your head nodding as you stare up at him with loving eyes, the drool and tears on your face trailing down your throat, soaking your uniform. “Tell me what your purpose is?”

“To be your cumdump!” you laugh, elation bubbling in your chest, fluttering deep around your cunt until you felt Shinsou’s teeth sink into your throat.

The feeling of hot, sticky cum expelling into your cunt feels like blistering euphoria, his heavy, rough breathing on your skin, making you moan softly. Your own orgasm hits, much softer, much more controlled than his as your walls clamp down like a vice around him. Your orgasm is warm, sounding deep within you that you almost didn’t realize you were dropped to the floor.

A soft, pitiful moan sounds from your lip, your eyes focused on Shinsou, who’s shoving his limp cock back into his pants, but his eyes are on the skyline.

“I-I’m sorry for messing up your… your case,” you rasp on the floor. 

Shinsou shifts on his feet, his gaze lingering longer onto the skyline before finally setting onto you. The anger seems to have disappeared, a look of slight boredom but the excitement in his eyes as he leans down over you. You feel breathless when his mouth presses against yours in a short, chaste kiss.

“I think you just helped me keep my cover, slut; maybe you do have some worth,” he laughed against your mouth.

He leaves you there, your body going limp and blackness taking over the moment he disappears.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #tw: dubcon #bbs kinktober 2020

[tillthelandslide]

Oh F*ck It

A/N: Hi everyone. I actually quite like this one, so I hope you all like it too. I appreciate any and all feedback. All of your support has been amazing, especially the wonderful people on my taglist, you guys know I love you all so much xx

Side Note: Part 7 of Jersey Love is on hold for the moment so I can finish writing and editing other stories and make my way through my requests. Hope thats okay. Love you all so much - L

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(if you would like to be added to my tag list, feel free to message me,    if you are new to my blog then I post Henry Cavill fanfics and make    Henry Cavill fake Instagram posts, my requests are open so feel free to    request anything  and I will try my best to make your vision come to  life. Edit: requests are still open but there might be a delay as I am  working my way through the current ones and all other stories I am  writing)   

Love. What a load of bullshit, you hated the idea of love. The idea that people could love someone despite how shitty they were pissed you off. Sure you knew people weren't perfect but come on, some people could just do better, be better. You felt genuinely awful when you found yourself thinking certain people didn't deserve to be loved. And you had begun to think that the thought in your mind meant you too didn’t deserve to be loved.

People often told you, "Y/n, you're too kind", "Y/N you're too good for him" and that too pissed you off. How could you be too good for one person and not good enough for someone else? That was the story of your life, the people you loved, didn't love you back, and the people that loved you, well... They fell under the formerly mentioned category of "not deserving love" and you suppose that fact was the reason you were yet to find someone. You were stuck up, only you thought it but it was still true. Someone who thinks there are people who don't deserve love, is stuck up, surely? Your friends and family would tell you that they agreed that some people don’t deserve love but it didn’t make you feel better, it made you hate the human race just a little more than you already did. You were kind, you knew that, only the people closest to you knew of these thoughts that you hated to have and the rest… they knew you as a lovely girl, a positive woman who worked hard and was strong. But that was the facade you presented.

You wish you were the type of person that believed everyone deserves love, but you weren't.

So here you were, sitting in your apartment drinking a beer all by yourself, waiting until your only true friend finished filming and came and listened to your moaning. Who is that friend you ask? The one, the only; Henry Cavill. How the fuck he was your friend you'll never know. He was about 7 years older than you but that didn't stop you from being best friends with him. He was a genuinely nice guy, the most humble person you knew (even in his position), he was kind and loving and you always told everyone he was the best thing that ever came into your life. He may be a recurring guest star in the filthiest of your dreams and fantasies but you'd never let him know that. You had the biggest crush on him but covered it up with witty and sarcastic humour, sure the two of you flirted but neither of you had the guts to progress your friendship, his fans knew you as his best friend and you thought it would stay that way until he inevitably found a girlfriend.  Little did you know that Henry felt the same way about you, in fact he was very much in love with his best friend, people said that you were too young but when you were together age was never an issue, in fact it was something Henry forgot about most days, only really thinking about it when someone had to comment on it (usually an ignorant reporter or pap)

You heard your door open, the jingle of keys, a coat being thrown somewhere, the sound of footsteps leading away from you into your kitchen, you heard the fridge open, you heard a beer open, all before you saw his face.

"Make yourself at home why don't you" you said, as he came into your living room and plopped himself down next to you. You instantly found yourself smiling and breathing him in, his usual scent invading your senses, making your eyes flutter shut for a second or two.

"Always do" he said simply, wrapping an arm around you to hug you.

"Ew get off" you joked, as you hugged him back, taking a deep breath as your head found a comfortable place in his shoulder..

"How was work?" you sang, making him jokingly groan at your singing.

"Good" was all he said and it made you chuckle.

"Henry Cavill everyone" you said, talking to an imaginary audience.

"How are you?" he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

"Shitty as ever my friend" you said, clinking your bottle with him as his eyebrows lifted.

"Why are you so dressed up?" he said referring to your current attire, he took your appearance in, smirking to himself and trying his hardest (as ever) to keep his thoughts to himself. He always thought you looked amazing, the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on but tonight, he thought you looked phenomenally gorgeous and unfairly hot.

You were wearing black skinny jeans and a black satin shirt which had been undone when your plans got cancelled, revealing lace lingerie underneath. You didn't care that it was revealing and you were infront of Henry, it just didn't matter to you, you were comfortable with each other and to be frank, he had seen much more of you before.

"I was supposed to have a date with Damien but he cancelled. Couldn’t be bothered to get changed" you said, making him groan and tilt his head back.

"That douchebag again? " he said, which made you laugh, he sounded too posh to say douchebag.

"What's wrong with him?" you asked, making him chuckle and drink his beer.

"Well for one, he's a dick, two he treats you like shit and 3 he's a dick" he said laughing.

"Yeah well he wants me so eh" you shrugged, downing your drink, knowing that wasn’t a valid reason to keep seeing him.

"Really? He cancelled on you" he said matter of factly.

"Ouch. Hurt my feelings why don't you. We get it I'm repulsive nobody wants me" you said, making him frown at you as your hand placed itself over your heart feigning heartbreak at his words.

"That's not what I meant and you know that's not true" he said, downing his drink too.

"What's the truth then?" you asked, turning to face him, your back sliding down the sofa slightly.

"You have terrible taste in men" he said, laughing which made you hit him "ouch" he said, rubbing his arm, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed at you.

"Sorry, did I hurt you big guy?" you joked, hitting him again, making him grab your wrist to stop you.

"Seriously Y/N stop" he said, making you chuckle and pull your hand away.

"God why is dating so hard? Honestly I'm just going to give up" you said, making Henry groan in agreement.

"I mean if Superman can't find someone then I've got no hope" you said, making him chuckle, his eyes following you as you stood up.

"Another one?" you asked, making him nod, you walked to your kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out two more glasses of beer, popping the lids off..

"I miss sex" you heard Henry say making you laugh.

"Me too" you said, coming back into the room, passing him another beer, you walked to your speaker turning them on and taking your phone out of your pocket, throwing it to Henry who caught it one handedly, this was a common occurrence for the both of you, you’d give Henry your phone and he would play whatever he wanted from your music library.

"You and Damien haven't?" he asked, glancing between your phone and you as you resumed your position next to him, your head resting against his shoulder, looking at your phone in his hands.

"No we have but it was shit, didn’t get me where I needed to go if you get what I mean" you said, laughing to yourself.

"Why keep seeing him then? He's a dickhead and he can't make you cum? What's the point?" he said, making you laugh, finally shuffling a playlist of yours.

"Oh if you're fans heard you now Cavill" you said laughing to yourself, the music filling the room.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, bringing the bottom up to his perfect lips, downing a considerable amount, making you smirk and do the same.

"Just that they think you're so perfect. King Cavill they call you. Here you are, speaking all improper, having a beer with your clearly delusional and repulsive best friend and talking about cum" you said making him laugh alongside you.

"Eh, don't think they'd mind" he said, turning to face you.

“That’s true, think you could practically do anything and they’d bow down” you laughed, in your mind you understood perfectly why they acted the way they did and you truly loved every single person who loved Henry because they represented everything you were, everything they saw and thought about Henry, you thought, but considerable more because you knew him, all of him, not just the person he presented himself as.

"And stop calling yourself repulsive, you're not repulsive, far from it actually" he said.

"Calm down Cavill. Carry on being so sweet and I might think you’re in love with me" you joked, shoving his chest lightly.

"Yeah because that's not possible" he mumbled, you not hearing what he said.

"Huh?"

"Nothing"

"You look exhausted" you said, looking over his features, he had bags under his eyes and the skin around his face was drooping, you still thought he looked handsome but still, he needed to rest more.

"Thanks" he chuckled deeply, closing his eyes and leaning his head against your sofa.

"You work too hard" you scolded him, your hand moving to play with his curls the way you knew he liked. It calmed him and even though this was a fairly romantic thing people did, you did it anyway. Your friendship was weird like that, you could go from acting like best friends to acting like a couple (without the sex, much to your dismay). His eyes closed and his head tilted upwards as you did, a small smile resting on his lips, before they blinked open a few times.

"I enjoy my work" he said, humming at the feel of your gentle fingers in his hair. You could tell he was getting sleepy as his features softened and he no longer joked with you, the beer now long forgotten in his hand. You took the beer from his hand, placing it on the table, stopping your movements in his hair. Moving a pillow into your lap and saying his name, making his eyes open.

"I know you do, but you need to rest more, now lie down." you said firmly, gesturing for him to place his head on the pillow, to which he followed your instructions. Your hand resumed its movement in his hair, pushing the curls out of his face, running through the strands and occasionally stopping to massage his head.

"Maybe you need an older man, one who knows to treat you right” Henry said suggestively, wow he really is tired you thought.

“Treat me right? Are you talking about in or outside the bedroom?” you laughed.

“Both” he snickered.

"Going to set me up with one of your hot friends?" you said, trying to see if he was indeed talking about himself.

"I was talking about me." he said. Ah. So he was.

"Jheez you must be so exhausted" you said, trying your best to change the subject.

"I'm being serious" he said, his eyes still shut, groaning slightly as you weren't paying attention and accidentally tugged his hair.

"I'm too fucked up for you Henry. Besides you could have anyone you wanted" you said, hoping to some higher power that the topic please be changed.

"You're not fucked up, just a little messy, a little mess never hurt anyone" he said.

"You could have anyone you wanted" you repeated.

"Don't want anyone else" he said, suddenly sitting up from your lap and turning to face you.

"That beer must have gone straight to your head Henry. You don't know what you're saying"

"Don't be like that. I'm an adult, I can handle one fucking beer" he said, his tone turning you on a little. The song switched to Sail by AWOLNATION and the bass was loud, adding to the tension between you.

"Cmon Yn don't tell me you haven't thought about this" he said gesturing between you.

"I haven't" you lied.

"That's a lie. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking" he said.

"Don't get me started" you warned.

"What's that supposed to mean?

"Oh c'mon Henry! You're always so protective when I tell you about guys I'm seeing, and you can't say that's just you being my best friend!" you shouted standing up from the sofa, walking to the other side of the room, turning down the music just a little.

"Yeah well, I know you have dirty dreams about me!" he shouted back making you gasp "I heard you one night when you stayed at mine, you moaned my name in your sleep"

"Yeah well, I always see you looking down my top at my tits" you said, making him look down at your boobs.

"Henry!" you shouted, your arms crossing over your chest protectively for about a second before you dropped them, not really caring if he looked.

"What! They're nice tits" he said make, a smirk on his face that you wished wasn’t there

"Well you have a nice face" you shouted back, you had no idea why the both of you were shouting at each other.

"So do you!" he shouted back.

"Yeah. Well you have rock hard abs like a fucking god? Like seriously what the hell dude?" you asked.

"Well you're fucking beautiful" he quipped back.

"Well, you have perfectly rideable thighs and sometimes when we cuddle I feel you against my arse… and c’mon how are you so big?" you said, glancing down to his thighs, flicking to his jean clad bulge, your mouth literally falling open as you did, making him chuckle at you. He hardened in his jeans as he heard you calling him big.

"It's nice arse. You have a nice arse" he said. It seemed like this was becoming a competition of who could complement the other more, you still had no idea why you were both shouting, probably to relieve the tension that was pent up inside the both of you.

"So do you! And you have really nice eyes, with the little bit of brown in the left one” you said, making him realise how much attention you paid to him.

“Not many people realise that about my eyes” he said, his mouth agape as he paused his shouting, the both of you trying to catch your breath.

“That’s because I like you.” you said, not shouting anymore.

“I like you more.” he said, still making it a competition.

"Well maybe we should just be together then if we like each other so much" you said.

"Maybe we should!" he shouted, the both of you realising that you had been moving closer to one another with every passing comment you had made, the both of you now standing chest to chest, the both of them raising and falling against each other. His eyes flicked down to your lips, to your eyes, to your breasts, back up to your lips before finally resting back on your eyes, the usual blue shade completely taken up by his pupils.

"Oh fuck it" you said , jumping into his arms, your legs wrapping round his waist, he caught you perfectly as you kissed each other. He carried the both of you back to your sofa, his lips moving perfectly against yours, as he placed the both of you on the sofa, you resting in his lap, your centres being instantly pushed together.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.” he said, breaking the kiss to tell you.

“Shut up and kiss me then” you said, his lips smudging against yours, the both of you moaning into the other, tongues finally fighting against each other, the feeling foreign but perfectly euphoric.

You shifted yourself against him, feeling him large and hard against your core. He pushed your open shirt over your shoulders, it fell to your forearms, you pulled your arms out of the sleeves, flicking the shirt in a different direction. Henry’s lips paused against yours to kiss at the exposed skin at your neck, moving down to your chest. You pushed your chest against his lips as he sucked at your bosom making you gasp and rut yourself against his bulge.

“I need you” you sighed out, his head snapping backwards to look at you, his hand coming to gently grasp your face, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek which was now flushed and warm.

“I’ve wanted this for so long” he smiled at you, he lifted the both of you up, placing sweet kisses against your lips as he carried you to your bedroom, placing you softly against your bed, your head falling softly into your pillows. He paused above you, slipping his shirt over his head, before looking over you, his features soft as he did, a sweet smile on his face as his cheeks flushed.

“You’re beautiful” he said, making you smile up at him. You reached out for him, gesturing to him, he simply shook his head, needing a moment more to take you in.

“Please Henry. Come here” you said cutely, he finally obeyed your wish, resting over you, his core flush against yours as he rested his arm by your head, his fingers drifting over your face, before he placed tender kisses against your lips. His tongue sensually making its way back into your mouth, pleasure erupting between you as he pushed his hips against you, causing you to gasp, your lips opening against his. His grunt was resounding and stirred something deep inside you that wanted to hear the noise over and over until it was the only one you knew.

“Henry” you sighed as his fingers grasped the button of your jeans, popping them open easily, his fingers slipping down until they were pressed against your core over your underwear, a moan slipping from your lips, into his mouth as his tongue fondled yours. Your hands finally reached out, resting over his muscular shoulders, the muscles contracting against your soft touch. You moved them gently down his chest, moving your lips there too, pressing an open mouth kiss against his hairy chest as his fingers continued to move against your core. Your back arched and your eyes fluttered shut. You continued the movement of your hands southward, pausing over his abs to get a feel before landing on the button of his jeans, popping them open easily and beginning to push the material down past his thighs, over his plump bottom before he got up to remove them fully, giving you the chance to do the same to yours.

You were left in your black lacy one piece, you popped the buttons at your core, revealing your wetness to him making him groan loudly as he moved back over you. You took in his black boxers, seeing a clear and large bulge straining against the material. Your eyes flicked up to his and he took you in again, smiling to himself that this was finally happening.

“Kiss me” you said simply, his lips pressing against yours again. Your hands found the hem of his boxers, pushing them down, your hand finding his large shaft, grasping it lightly, your feather-like touch had him panting into your mouth, his eyes bursting open and his lips pulling away from yours as he snapped his head down, seeing your small hand wrapped around him. He had never seen something more simple yet the sight was nothing but erotic in his mind and he had to refrain from fucking himself into your hand. You began to move your hand up and down his shaft, spreading the precum that had formed at his tip to fully cover all of him. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut again as he moaned deeply.

“Baby I’m not going to last, need to be inside you” he said, speaking the truth. The pet name had your mind spinning and your stomach and core fluttering.

“Yes please” you begged sweetly making him chuckle.

“You sure you want this?” he said, grasping himself and placing himself against your core, tapping his tip against your clit making you sigh lewdly, precum spilling from his tip onto your clit at the sound.

“I’m sure” you confirmed, making him push into you gently, the both of you gasping, foreheads resting against each other, eyes looking into the others, making the whole ordeal more intimate.

His head arched upwards as he bottomed out, a loud groan falling from his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his fingers caressing your cheek, moving to your bottom lip.

“Give me a second” you said, the stretch was nothing you had experienced before and you needed a second to compose yourself. His lips found yours and moved against yours slowly, drawing a moan out as his fingers found your clit.

“You can move”

“You sure?” he said, making you nod. He pulled back slowly and you moaned loudly, feeling every ridge and vein against your walls. He pulled out until just the tip was inside you, slowly pushing back in, making the both of you moan out loudly.

“Fuck” he said, repeating the action a few times, his thrusts were deep, sensual and slow, you could feel every part of him and it had you seeing stars already.

“Henry” you moaned, you had never felt anything like this, you were no virgin but no man had ever made you feel this good before. He pushed back in, his hips hitting against yours as he sped up his thrusts slightly, his member reached untouched places inside you and found your g-spot straight away, your back arched, hands flying out to grasp his shoulders for support.

“Henry” you repeated, his eyes opening to look in yours, worry written across his face “faster” you said, making him chuckle.

“We’ve got all the time in the world for that my love. Need to feel all of you. This way” he said, his words reinforced with a particularly slow and deep thrust making you gasp out.

He felt like he was being winded but it was perfect, every thrust was deeper causing pleasure to shoot inside of him, making deep and loud grunts fall from his lips which were moving against yours.

“Y/n” he moaned, as he made a particular hard thrust of his hips, his member pushing inside you harshly making the both of you swear at the feeling.

“Oh fuck” you moaned, his fingers moving against your pearl with every thrust he made. You began pushing your own hips up, meeting him halfway, creating a new feeling of pleasure.  

“Look at you, absolutely glowing. Taking me in so perfectly” he said, looking down to where you were intertwined, officially moving as one being.

“You’re so deep Henry” you said, your lips fluttering over his neck, sucking against a vein which had appeared there.

“No one’s ever been this deep before have they?” he said, his hips still delivering slow and deep thrusts inside you, elongating the pleasure you both felt.

“Only you” you said and Henry knew you couldn’t have said anything more perfect and complementary.

“Oh I love you” he said, surprising you with his words, you looked at him, the both of you smiling and moaning against each other. Tears formed in your eyes, your hands grasping his face gently, kissing his lips.

“I love you too Henry. So much” you said, making his hips move faster against you, his dick still reaching deep inside you, pushing deliciously against your g-spot, pulling high pitched moans from your chest, your back arching and your hips rising off the bed.

Henry’s hands landed on your lace clad waist, leaning backwards on the bed, carrying you with him so you were on top, causing his member to fall some from your core.

Your hand steadied him against your core as you lowered yourself against him until the hilt, the hair at the base of him tickling against you as your legs draped over his thighs. You began raising yourself up before dropping yourself down, his cock somehow reaching deeper inside you, his hand supporting your movements but grasping your waist, helping raise and lower you against him. He leant back against the bed, his mouth agape as looked over you.

“Fuck Henry. Can you feel you, here” you said, grasping his hand and pushing his hand against your stomach making him moan.

“I. Love. You. So. Fucking. Much” he said, delivering particularly hard thrusts upwards into you in between every word.

“Fuck. So close” you said, lips bruising themselves against his again.

“Never felt this way before” he said, his words making you moan again. They had you seeing nothing but white as your walls fluttered against him, a near pornographic noise falling from your lips as you reached your high.

“There’s my good girl, that's it” he said, encouraging you as you came around him.

“Cum for me Henry. I need it, need to feel it inside me” you said, making his hips stutter as he came suddenly at your words, his eyes flickering in their sockets as he came. His load shooting upwards into you, coating your walls with him. Yours and his juices slipping out of you and onto his cock.

“Oh fuck” he grunted, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, yours doing the same as you collapsed against him as he fell back, his back hitting your bed, his hands grasping your comforter. You felt him softening inside you, your walls still pulsing around him as you rested your head against his sweaty chest.

“That was fucking amazing” he swore.

“You’re the best” you said, making him growl and flip the both of you, his length falling from your warm and wet cunt, he was coated in a mixture of the both of you making you smile.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” he said, now lying on top of you, his arms supporting his weight.

“Because we’re idiots” you said, both of you laughing breathlessly.

“Be my girlfriend please?” he said, pushing hair out of your eyes as you smiled up at him.

“It would be my pleasure” you said, kissing him slowly, he let out a deep exhale from his nostrils.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I want to tell everyone that you’re my girl. Will you let me tell everyone you’re my girl?” he said making your heart burst with joy.

“You better, everyone’s got to know you’re my man” you said, laughing up at him.

“I’m your man” he said, repeating the words more to himself than to you.

“You’re my man” you confirmed, making the both of you smile, you giggling as his lips began to attack your neck again.

#henry #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill and kal #henry cavill angst #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fics #august walker #august walker smut #napoleon solo #charles brandon #geralt #man of steel

[jamaiskookie]

meet me in your memories (knj)

✂︎ pairing: memory traveller namjoon x gender neutral reader

✂︎ wc: 11.8k

✂︎ TW// car crash, mentions of death, crying, mental health, mental breakdowns, spoilers for frozen 1?? um, vomiting, mentions of PTSD, three seconds of family drama, memory loss

✂︎ notes: a little gift from me for being away so long <3 luv yall also ignore how short and shitty this is!!! ignore it!!!!! 

✂︎ synopsis: namjoon is a memory traveller - he is thrusted back and forth into his world and the world of his memories, forced to re-enact his past experiences. but he doesn’t recognise you, who keeps showing up in his memories. why doesn’t he remember you? why can’t he recall any of these scenes if they’re supposed to be his memories? and why does it always feel like he’s forgetting something? 

he comes to find out that he would choose you over and over again, in whatever lifetime or world he’s in. because he always returns to you. 

✂︎ fic tunes: "eight"- iu (prod. & feat. suga) but you're at your favorite secret spot after a long day by neptjoon

masterlist asks

The road is slippery and Namjoon cranes his head out to look at the window. Rain splattering everywhere, he notes worriedly. He hopes that nobody crashes. The bus driver sitting about three meters in front of him is humming a melody to a song he doesn’t know nor recognise. While listening to the poor man hum the off beat tune, Namjoon sits in silence, wondering how sad it must be to drive a bus with no passengers but himself. 

Suddenly, his stomach drops and his head spins, and this time Namjoon is certain it’s not from the rain or the driver’s subpar driving. He lurches forward, watching as the rain knocks against the window and falls in thick ribbons. 

Click. 

In an instant, Namjoon’s world collapses around him and he is thrown into his mind. 

Seoul is sweltering hot - hot like he’s never felt before. Namjoon reaches up to clutch his head, which is still spinning, and finds himself standing in a pair of light washed baggy jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt, unlike the padding coat and thick boots he had on just a moment ago. 

“Namjoon!” Someone squeals behind him and his heart jumps. He jumps around, facing you and the view of hot street food stalls and tall buildings behind you. Suddenly, his hand is reaching out to grab onto yours and you smile softly. 

He hears his own voice ring out, clear as day: “Don’t run. I was looking for you.” 

“Psh.” You wave off his concern, handing him a shiny golden hotteok. You hold an identical one in your fist, so he accepts it and murmurs his thanks, tearing apart the pancake and stuffing it into his mouth. Sweet, hot honey and small pieces of walnut flood into his mouth, and Namjoon is momentarily surprised. Science states that you cannot taste or physically feel anything in your dreams. 

But Namjoon already proved that wrong long ago. 

He takes you by hand and drags you over to a shelter, for some rest, apparently uninterested in your cries of wanting more tteokbokki or some Chinese food. He flings you over to his side and places his hand over your shoulder, while you both silently devour your hotteoks. 

“This was a nice date.” You mumble tentatively, and oh. That’s what this is? A date? He wants to turn around and ask you for your name. Where are you from? Why am I here again? He wants to scream it out until his lungs hurt and he gets an answer that makes sense, but no matter how much he tries, his throat will not allow those words to tumble out of his lips.  

Why don’t I remember you?

Instead, he replies: “Yeah, it was. This was fun.” He tilts his head down to smile at you and Namjoon finds himself nervous. Nervous enough that his hands are shaking against his will, but he tells himself that the sweat and the nervousness are all side effects of the swampy heat this summer. 

You beam at him and Namjoon thinks you’re an angel. You lean up onto his chest to place a soft kiss onto his lips and Namjoon thinks about when he’s going to be thrown back out of his head. 

“Wanna go home?” He asks, nudging at the sky, which is already filled up with first streaks of the sunset. Purple hues and pinks and blues that all blend together nicely. You watch the sky for a moment.

“Never.” You offer no explanation after that and Namjoon doesn’t pry. He feels like he understands you, which is scarier than any other encounter he’s faced, in real life and in here. You stare up at him more intensely, and a shudder of fear runs down Namjoon’s back. “I just want to stay here forever,” You enunciate, like you want him to remember this. “Just Y/N and Namjoon.” 

Something tugs in his chest and Namjoon screams in his head, no. Longer. Not now. He slips away, gone, disappeared from the world before he can even tell you how pretty your name is. And he awakens back at the bus, where the driver is shaking him and yelling at him to get out. 

Namjoon walks home in the rain, yelling out your name in happiness until his neighbours come over politely asking him to shut the fuck up. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… Y/N?” He keeps repeating the name over and over again, enough to make Seokjin annoyed, who has moved away from Namjoon’s desk to the sofa in his office just to escape the random spiel that Namjoon is hurriedly rushing through. 

“I can’t find a single Y/N in here!” Namjoon cries frustratingly, and the corners of Seokjin’s eyes soften in something that is either pity or empathy. He discards his non-fiction novel about drag queens and wigs to come over and clap a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. 

“My friend, my crazy, idiotic, slightly insane friend.” Seokjin bends down. “You’ve checked all your yearbooks, social media, archives, newspapers… Have you perhaps considered that this person wasn’t that important? Just a passing stranger?”

“No.” Namjoon shoots down stubbornly. “They appear far too often for them not to be important.” So Seokjin shrugs, leaving Namjoon to, once again, search through the Facebook friends of a friend of a friend of a friend. 

But no Y/N’s pop up, and he’s wondering if Y/N was just a nickname. Was it even your real name? With a sigh and one single (rather impressive) agitated brow wave, he lets go and spills. He tells Seokjin about how he finally learned your name, about the places you’ve been together and how much you adore street food. 

He appreciates Seokjin for being a good friend, for sitting there and not interrupting to call him a crazy person, even if he is most certainly thinking about it in his head. Because Seokjin, at least, knows about a miniscule part of Namjoon’s tragic life. He doesn’t understand, but he gets it, and that’s all Namjoon needs in a friend. 

He doesn’t tell Seokjin about how soft and pillowy your lips feel against his, he doesn’t tell you how much he longs to do unspeakable things to you when you show up in those blue short shorts. He definitely doesn’t tell him how much he loves your name. 

Seokjin suggests a number of things. That perhaps you are a character from long ago, or maybe a passing stranger Namjoon once had a summer fling with. You may be someone long forgotten like a mutual friend in high school or college. He also suggests a psychiatric hospital to screw his head back on (as a joke, Namjoon’s pretty sure.) 

But none of those seem right. Namjoon does his best to explain, he really does. For an award winning journalist and aspiring writer, he does just about a terrible job of trying to string his words together. Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose and falls back onto the sofa, already spacing out. Namjoon weakly cries out that he knows you. He really does - he just doesn’t remember how, or why. 

Like a puzzle with a few missing pieces. 

He wonders when and if the missing pieces will ever make their way over to him. 

Namjoon gives up and flops down onto the sofa next to Jin, who squeaks out various protests about how heavy he is and how stupidly huge his arms have gotten after he started working out, along the lines of comparing him to Jungkook and calling him a gym rat. 

As usual, Namjoon doesn’t listen. 

It’s difficult to explain the feeling of falling to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The cursed Click echoes out and suddenly, the world spins around, the axis breaks and he’s physically thrown into another time, another place… another memory that he can’t seem to recall. His stomach lurches, his head hurts and there’s a small breeze flowing in. 

For a short moment, the loops of space and time are completely open to him. He can’t see it, but he can feel it. It flips his mind completely upside down and boom. He’s in a specific, random time and place. His body feels light, and every step he takes, he can physically feel it: He doesn’t belong here. He isn’t supposed to be here. Everything feels different. Even the air is more smoky, because something in this world is suddenly wrong, and it’s him. 

The next time he meets you, he is in just about the worst place to fall. Sitting in a press conference, his stomach drops and he’s dreading the fall. Namjoon can already hear his boss screaming at him, and he desperately tries to root himself to his seat, typing whatever the assemblyman is yapping on and on about. About farming and agriculture and tax cuts… 

Click. 

He can distantly hear the assemblyman candidate talk about corrupt government workers as he’s thrusted out of his world and into another. 

The memory he has the pleasure to be in this time is something not too unfamiliar. For a second, he thinks if this is just a normal day of him in his cramped, tiny city apartment. Until he turns around and realises you’re lying right next to him, sound asleep and nuzzling into the side of his neck. 

The air is crisp. It’s spring, not winter anymore, and he can hear the flower petals outside his apartment complex falling lightly on the ground. This, Namjoon thinks, may just be the best memory he’s been in. The press conference and his life and his boss slips his mind and he cradles you in his chest, holding you closer and closing his eyes shut. 

“Mm?” You mumble, half asleep. “You’re suffocating me.” You hoarsely call out, and Namjoon releases you with an insincere apology. He brushes the hair out of your hair and grins, framing you in his head. He reaches to his alarm clock, which is right next to his bed as it always is to check the time. 

April 1st, 2017. 

Oh god, Namjoon winces. This means he still has that god awful haircut right now. He reaches up to feel his head, and sure enough, the horrible slicked back bleached hair is still there, an unfortunate result of his friend Hoseok daring him to drunk dye his hair. 

“You’re awake?” He asks you, and you nod slowly. 

He wonders if this memory precedes or follows the one he had with you last time, and he desperately hopes things are going in chronological order. He wants to know you just as much as you know him. Namjoon naively prays to whatever deity that controls his dreamworld: Please follow things step by step, follow the clock. 

You roll around, saying something he can’t really catch. He asks you what you said and for the first time today, you peel open your eyes directly facing him. Namjoon’s heart almost falls out of his ass, seeing your eyes bore into his own. 

“Where’s my morning kiss?” You ask cutely, nudging his nose with your own button nose. 

“Right here.” He finds himself saying, leaning in to close the inches in between your two faces. You taste like hotteok, even early in the morning. You taste like a spring day and a never ending forever. As your lips capture his and his everything is consumed by thoughts of you, Namjoon begs himself to kiss you harder. 

His past self declines politely, and Namjoon thinks about whether this counts as himself being controlled if he himself is still controlling what he says and does. 

In that moment, listening to your slow breathing and someone across the street playing simple, melodic piano chords, Namjoon tells himself: Do not ever forget April 1st, 2017. You rise from the bed and some form of protest bubbles up from Namjoon’s mouth, to which you just laugh and drag him out of bed with the excuse of wanting breakfast. 

You push him into the bathroom, where he expects to meet his sad single grey towel and foggy mirror. You push him in front, and he cringes at the sight of his hair in the mirror. You sigh. 

“Calm down. The blonde looks sexy. You can dye it back black later.” He laughs, because it’s clearly not very sexy. For once, his past self is doing exactly what the current Namjoon is pleading him to do. Does it count as reliving your memories if someone else was living through them originally? But, he reminds himself while you hand him a green toothbrush and squeeze a dollop of toothpaste on both your toothbrushes, this is him. He lived through this once and he is just taking a trip down memory lane. 

The person who lived through this before was him. 

He has to remind himself many more times before it sinks in. 

You brush your teeth next to him, fluffing your hair and squinting in the mirror to wake yourself up. Without a second of hesitation, Namjoon brings the toothbrush up and starts to brush his teeth. Nothing has ever felt more domestic or right than this, despite the tentative steps and heavy lead feeling in his throat telling him he still isn’t supposed to be here. 

You spit out toothpaste in the sink to gargle your mouth and Namjoon mimics you exactly. Somehow, you find yourselves in the kitchen, giggling while making some sort of french toast with an abundance of cinnamon floating through the air. Which makes Namjoon cough and makes you laugh even harder. 

“This is a perfect morning.” You say, peering out the window to watch the city life slowly bustling to life. People scrambling out their doors, ushering their children or pets with them. People you don’t recognise going on walks or runs. Mailmen and delivery people dropping off packages and people yelling into their phones as they hurriedly walk along the sidewalk. 

And you and Namjoon, calmly staying in your pajamas while frying toast on the pan. 

“Is something burning?” You ask, sniffing the air, and Namjoon’s blood runs cold. 

“Oh, shit!” 

You smile and shake your head while Namjoon attempts to save the blackened piece of bread to no avail. He catches sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, even as you chastise him about watching the stove and ranting on about how you’re never going to trust him in the kitchen again. Namjoon watches your pink lips, stained with a brown mudge of cinnamon french toast mixture, which lifts up and your head falls back, hair flowing around your head like a halo. 

Your laugh plays out in front of him in slow motion, and absentmindedly, he thanks that deity he prayed to for slowing this moment down. Because if there’s anything he yearns most to remember, it’s the way you laugh. A chuckle makes its way out of his own throat as well, and he’s not sure who’s in control at the moment. 

Himself or himself in the past?

Either way, they both did the right thing. Namjoon forgets. He forgets the life he has back home, he forgets Seokjin’s warnings, he forgets that he has at least a hundred articles waiting for him at work to be written. He forgets that this world is nothing but a chance for him to follow the footsteps of what he once did, with no control to say or do anything he wishes to do himself. 

But, oh, he really can’t bring himself to care. 

Those piano chords from before blend together beautifully, and you scrape the black toast into the garbage can, still teasing him relentlessly, and oh. Oh, this is what it means to have a home. You made this junk of a house into a home, and he feels like he has to return here. This is where he’s meant to return to, everyday. Each time. 

You turn around after discarding the toast and with a bright smile, you ask him to kiss you again. Namjoon thinks that he doesn’t ever have the capability to deny you when you smile like that, so he complies and crashes his lips onto yours. 

The lead, heavy feeling in his throat is still weighing him down. Except Namjoon isn’t sure whether it’s weighing him down to this world or the real world.

 The cursed deity pulls him back, pulling him through the time and space back to his own responsibilities and life. His heart is wrenched out and he reaches out, trying to grasp your hand for the last time. He falls back to his own world in a hospital bed and an IV attached to his arm with half a piece of french toast dangling in his mouth and another promise he makes with himself to meet you again with a smile on his face. 

Memories… memories that he’s lived through but can’t remember. Memories he slips into to live momentarily through the actions and words of his old self. 

Somewhere along the line of diving back and forth his own life and this past one, he has forgotten which is which. 

“Most likely due to exhaustion. Lack of sleep, lack of rest. It’s quite common with working young adults, workaholics. I’m putting him on medical leave for the rest of the week. He needs a rest - He needed it yesterday. Don’t worry too much, Mrs. Kim. A long nap and a meal or two will fix him right back up.” Namjoon groggily registers the white walls and beeping noises, the chatter of doctors and nurses rushing around. 

He’s in a hospital, and a rush of fear runs straight through his blood. He sits up to eye his mother, sitting next to him and holding his hand. She shushes him, laying him back down on the bed, but all he can do is panic. 

“No, not here. Not here again.” He mumbles incoherently. His mother puts a hand over his eyes, shushing him again and telling him softly to go back to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, he wants to get out of here. But his eyelids are already feeling heavy and he weakly fights against his body, but before he can even process it, his eyes are shut and he is asleep. 

Seeing her son close his eyes and drift off to sleep, Mrs. Kim turns back to the doctor. 

“I’m not surprised,” She starts. “He’s always worked himself to the bone. But that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about his brain.” The doctor cocks his head and looks through the papers which are clipped to a clipboard in his arms. 

“Ah, yes. I see he was in a car accident a few years ago.” Doctors are some of the most heartless people, and you can always tell how experienced a doctor is by how much sympathy they show. This doctor shows none at all, which must mean he’s been working for a long time. 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kim.” The doctor continues, peering over Namjoon’s sleeping body. “I see he suffered light effects after the accident. Selective amnesia, no external damages to the skull. He didn’t suffer as much. In fact, I believe the doctor in charge believed that the amnesia was mostly due to the shock of the event. But he’s received treatment for PTSD since then, right?” 

Mrs. Kim nods. 

“Good. Doctor Park also noted at the time that his amnesia actually didn’t affect much of his memory. He couldn’t remember distant relatives or kindergarten friends, but that seemed to be the extent of his amnesia. Oh,” The doctor slipped through the clipboard. “He also couldn’t remember certain knowledge about philosophers such as Freud, which he was, quote, ‘devastated over’ un-quote.” 

Mrs. Kim stays silent. 

“So, you don’t have to worry too much. Best thing your son could do for his well being is rest. And a therapist if he has a relapse or shows some symptoms such as sleep difficulties or nightmares, or physical signs like fatigue and nausea.” 

Mrs. Kim nods. “Thank you, doctor.”

That’s it, and she turns back to her son, with her hand in his. She stays there, unmoving until he opens his eyes, mumbling incoherent questions and asking his mother why he is in the hospital again, demanding to be discharged immediately. Her heart breaks a little, small cracks form for her beloved son and she kisses him on the forehead, telling him he’d be out of here in no time. 

“What did you see?” She asks quietly, and Namjoon is surprised. She never asks him about his memory walks. It’s taboo to mention it in his household. Not even his sister is comfortable talking about it. “Anything? At all? You passed out at a rather unfortunate time, I heard.” She continues. 

“Nothing much.” Namjoon replies, lying through his teeth and trying to justify it with the sight of your laugh. He leans back and closes his eyes once more, bringing up his memories of you and your bedhead. He tries to fill the gap inside of him with thoughts of you, as if that can make up for the empty feeling that he’s forgetting something. 

In the hospital, staring at a white ceiling and glaring lights, Namjoon is left to think about what’s happening to his head. During the end of his rather short stay, he comes up with a terrifying conclusion. One that scares him more than he could imagine, but it’s the only one that makes sense. He’s falling in love with you. 

He voices out this concern to Seokjin when he visits after his mother leaves. Seokjin stays silent, mumbling out an apology that feels like the wrong thing to say. The elder boy can only look at his friend with sadness in his eyes, telling him that someone as great as Namjoon shouldn’t be suffering so much pain. Namjoon jokes that a witch must have cursed him when he was born. 

None of the two friends laugh. 

This routine continues on and on, without Namjoon dwelling too much on it. Which is so much unlike Namjoon, whose main personality trait is overthinking about the smallest things. He lets the flow of time and space take him wherever they wish to plop him down. He lets the evil deity toy with his heart and wrench him away whenever you smile the largest. 

It hurts right after he is torn away from you, but he’s filled with so much joy in the moment that he can’t bring himself to do anything else about it. Even if he wanted to do something without it, he has no idea where on earth he might start. 

Sometimes he questions the validity of his memories. What is real, what is fake? He still can’t answer, and this is what he spends most of his time wondering about. The memories he has with you don’t make sense. Those are large gaps in his life that he seems to have no recollection of. 

He goes everywhere with you. 

One day he showed up on November 5th, 2015. 

The next day he jumped to August 23rd, 2017. 

Another time, he was thrown into March 15th, 2016. 

None of it makes sense. Are they not memories? He thinks. There’s no possible way he’s spent this much of his life with you and can’t recall any of it. What is real - the world he spends with you, or the world where he always returns to by default?

And yet, nothing else can explain these short periods of blackouts. Ever since one day in some horrible hospital, he’s gone under and pulled and thrusted into some land where he has no control over his own hands. Everything else makes sense. This world, everything else is accurate from the settings to the props, with one anomaly in his memory. 

A character who goes by the name of Y/N. 

He could go the science-y logic route that he so often frequents, come up with theories that can somewhat explain these periods of time. Theories that include explanations such as hallucinations, or that Seokjin’s right and he’s finally gone crazy. You’re just a figment of his imagination, that this is all in his head and he’s out of his mind. 

But he rejects all those theories when he’s clicked into another memory. Somehow, he just understands. These are memories. These are memories he’s had with you, whether that was in a past life or in some sort of messed up alternate timeline where he’s actually happy. 

Is this a gift or another curse from this stupid deity?

He has too many questions. 

He cannot explain these memories using science, logic, common sense, or even using his own words. But in the moment, while you’re in his arms, he can feel it. He can explain it by describing the way you smell, like pancakes and fresh mint. He can explain it by describing the way you feel, like a warm marshmallow filling up his insides and consuming him. 

It’s cheesy, cringier than Seokjin’s dad jokes, but only he gets it. 

Namjoon is in his living room, switching channels on the TV and thinking about this when his stomach sinks again. He braces himself, and disappears. 

Click.

Seoul is freezing cold. The air is light and he is sitting on a bench on his college campus, rubbing his hands together and zipping up his huge jacket over his sweater. Namjoon shudders, his body not yet used to the bite of the cold compared to the warm breeze he was just enjoying. 

He sniffles, nose slightly red like some knockoff Rudolph and wanders around. His body pulls him to go to the right, despite the warm coffee shop being on the left. He shudders again and tries to protest, but his body won’t listen, standing up and walking over to the right with no particular destination in mind. Students are rushing around, complaining about the cold and talking about their next party or study session. 

Namjoon pulls himself forwards, and thank god this version of himself still has terrible tolerance for the cold, because he reaches up and pulls his beanie down over his ears, still wandering around aimlessly. Where are you going? Namjoon wants to scream out frustratingly. 

His brain doesn’t reply and Namjoon sulks. 

Eventually, he is pulled over to another bench, outside in the cold, and he sits down, deeply resenting himself and wondering why on earth he just stood up from one bench to walk to another one. If anything, it’s colder here. He watches the students that pass by for a minute or two, thinking that this is the most boring memory he’s ever been in. 

There is no snow falling, but almost everything on campus is lined with a sheet of ice or cold steam. Namjoon nuzzles deeper into his own clothes, cursing himself for not being able to go buy another sweater or something to fight the extreme cold. 

Suddenly, you appear in front of him and Namjoon perks up. There you are. He thinks. Finally. You come over and sit down, holding something in your hands. He smiles, waiting for you to speak up and greet him with a kiss that will surely warm him up, but you silently sit next to him, ignoring him. Namjoon urges himself to say something, but instead, he continues to watch the students bustling through campus grounds without looking at you. 

Are we fighting? Is Y/N mad at me? 

This is excruciatingly frustrating, Namjoon bites his tongue and thinks. Why can’t he just say something? Abruptly, something lands on his jacket with a splat and he straightens up, snapping his neck towards you, who is looking at the yogurt splat on his jacket with a look of terror. 

“Oh my gosh!” You squeak out, quickly setting your yogurt aside and reaching for some tissues in your purse. “Oh, god, oh god, I’m so sorry. Please, let me-” Namjoon frowns, taking his hands out of his pockets to thumb at his jacket, debating whether he wants to take it off or not. 

You lean over, pawing at his jacket and wiping the yogurt off of his jacket. “I’m so sorry!” 

“No, don’t worry.” Namjoon says, chuckling. He reaches for another tissue, helping you get the yogurt off of him. “It’s no big deal.” The yogurt is mostly wiped off and you side eye him with the unmistakable look of guilt filling your eyes. Namjoon laughs again. 

“It’s fine, really! No, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m literally so sorry. Do you want me to pay for dry cleaning? Laundry? I can, um, wash it for you! I’m not the best at laundry, but it’s the least I could do?” 

Namjoon briefly wonders why you’re being so polite. 

“No, it’s fine.” The words tumble out his mouth again before he can process it. “Really, this jacket is old, anyway.” Not really, Namjoon thinks. It feels really new. “But who the hell eats cold yogurt in this kind of weather?” He jokes. “You sure you’re not a demon?”

You freeze, terrified before realising he was cracking a joke. “Oh. Hah! Yeah, no, I guess I just really like yogurt.” You offer lamely, and you break out into a small giggle. “Yeah, I guess I kind of am a psycho for eating it right now. It’s freezing today.” 

“God, tell me about it.” Namjoon says, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. 

“Thanks for not going bonkers on me. This jacket looks insanely expensive.” 

“Not really.”

“I’m Y/N.” You greet, holding a hand out for him to shake. I know, Namjoon thinks with a secret smile, but everything makes sense now. You don’t know him yet. To you in this moment in time, he’s just a random stranger who didn’t blow up on you after spraying some yogurt onto you. To him, you’re… you’re… 

“Oh, um, I’m Namjoon.” He says, hurriedly taking a hand out of his pocket to shake your outstretched hand. Your fingers meet and Namjoon swears a small zap just went through his hand. 

“Namjoon. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.” You say with a small smile, yogurt already long forgotten on the bench beside you two. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He says in return, even though he doesn’t mean it. He already knows you, he knows you better than everyone. He knows your favourite food is Korean street food, and you always wake him up with kisses and your favourite colour is periwinkle and you absolutely hate abalone with more passion than he’s ever seen in his entire life.

But this is your first time seeing him, ever, he reminds himself. This is your meet cute. This single moment set off the events in the next god knows how many years. This is the first time he ever had your name grace his tongue. This is the first time you’ve seen him. 

Another moment to treasure. You let go of his hand, after realising you two have been shaking hands for much longer than the socially acceptable rate of hand shaking. Blushing, either from the cold or humiliation, you sit, turn back around, grabbing a hold of your yogurt once more. 

Suddenly, Namjoon finds himself blurting out: “Hey, you wanna go get some coffee?” You look over curiously, pointing to yourself like you can’t believe he’s asking you out, because you don’t know that you’re all he ever thinks about at any given moment in any given day. “You’ll probably freeze your ass off if you keep eating that yogurt.” He jokes, pretending like this is all because he’s caring about how cold you are and not how cute or incredible or kind you are. 

“Sure.” You say, nodding shyly. He stands up, leading you to walk over to the left where the campus coffee shop is. Along the way, you throw the yogurt cup in the trash. 

“You can’t bring food brought from outside into a shop, right?” You ask. 

Namjoon smiles. “Yeah.” He stays there until night takes over the sky and one single twinkling star in the sky is signalling that it’s time to go home. Possibly the longest time he’s ever spent in a memory. He keeps glancing at the clock, praying that he gets one more minute with you, one more second, one more moment. 

At any time, he could be pulled out of this world, and he needs to make the most of it. You tell him about your childhood bedroom and your major. You tell him about the love you have for pancakes, and how much you want a puppy even though it’s prohibited in the on campus dorms. He nods, pretending like this is all new information even though it’s not, and he’s known all of this for the longest time. He knows you better than you know yourself, which he keeps to himself. 

In return, he tells you about his own childhood bedroom, which was adorned with posters of western hip hop rappers. He tells you about his passions for writing and music, that if he didn’t major in journalism, he’d be studying music production in school. He tells you that he’s obsessed with philosophy, and in all honesty, is a bit of a nerd. 

Instead of laughing or pulling a face, you nod and smile, saying that you think he should tell you more about philosophy on a second date. 

You leave the coffee shop with a small goodbye, and even though he desperately wants to, Namjoon can’t kiss you. 

He gets pulled back after you disappear pass the corner of the street, and the world morphes into a huge motion blur. When he gets pulled back into his living room, the TV is playing late night TV shows already. Namjoon checks the time. He was pulled in for five hours, the longest he’s ever been in that world. 

After that, no matter how much more he prays and begs, he never stays any longer than that. 

Three days later, Namjoon suddenly pops into Hong Kong, which is hotter than anything he’s ever felt. The streets are heavy with people, squabbling in cantonese while selling raw meats in a wet market. The sun is glaringly bright, and Namjoon starts to sweat almost instantaneously. Taxis and huge buses drive past, Namjoon jumps to a side only to find a vast ocean. He’s at the harbour front. 

The smell of food, of egg tarts and pineapple buns and meat dumplings along with other Hong Kong delicacies waft through the air, combined with the salty air of the sea. It makes for a strange combination that confuses his senses but works nonetheless. 

He thought he knew a city like Seoul, but this is a true city. This is busy and fast paced like he’s never even seen before. People shove each other aside to catch the bus, dogs are yapping everywhere and he soaks it all in before the thought enters his head.

What the hell is he doing in Hong Kong?

It’s like every time he wonders aloud, you pop up. “I’ve been looking for you.” You say, echoing the words he said to you that day in the streets of Seoul. 

“I was exploring!“ He says defensively, and you roll your eyes. 

“Come on.” You say, walking along the harbour front. 

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Namjoon asks, the words spilling out and surprising himself. Are you mad at him? You’ve never been mad at him before, not in the memories he’s seen. He hasn’t ever seen you fight with him, and immediately, he wants to apologise, fix things before he’s pulled back out and he has to live with the guilt and overthinking of whether you’re still mad at him for the next week. 

“Can’t believe you’re mad at me during our vacation.” Namjoon says, and that’s why he’s in Hong Kong, he realises. He’s on vacation. How strange. Namjoon thinks back to when the last time he took a break from work and the only thing he can think of is when that doctor put him on medical leave not too long ago. Oh no, you’re mad at him on holiday?

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You retort back, and Namjoon has never heard your voice this curt. “Just sit around pretending like everything's okay?”

“What do you want me to do?” Namjoon replies. “You act like this is my fault!” 

“It is your fault!” You cry out indignantly, and Namjoon knows that, but why? What did he do? What did you do? “Is this even a vacation?”

“Yes!” Namjoon cries out again in response, and you shake your head. 

“You promised, Namjoon.” You say like it’s a warning. 

“Yes, I know,” Namjoon says, even though he doesn’t and really, what on earth did he do? “But this is out of my hands! I can’t just say no, you’re not looking at this from my point of view.”

“You’re not looking at this from my point of view!” You argue back, and Namjoon looks around, realising that this squabble is attracting a small crowd of chinese people, gathering around to watch the free entertainment along the sidewalk of Victoria harbour. He awkwardly laughs, raising his hand and bows, a universal sign of apology, grabbing your hand and walking to the other direction. 

“Come on, I’d rather not have the whole city witness our fight.”

“Oh, so this is a fight now?” 

“What? Yes!” Namjoon says exasperatedly. “How else would you classify this argument?” 

Once he makes it to somewhere with at least a sliver of privacy, he turns around with his brows furrowed and a glare etched on his features. Why do you look so angry? Namjoon chastises himself. Just relax, relax, relax. As usual, his body doesn’t listen. 

“Why are you so mad at this?” Namjoon asks, and feels a flow of relief go down his spine. Finally. 

“It’s not just this instance, Joon. I know work is important, but sometimes it feels like you put literally anything else above me! Like last time? You bailed on our date, like, at least twice. You keep saying you can’t say no, but you can. You have that right, Namjoon.” 

Namjoon’s heart softens a little bit. His workaholic tendencies ended up biting him in the ass after all. Sighing he rubs the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. “I’m not prioritising work over you, baby.” He tries to explain, and tries to ignore how his heart sinks when your eyes turn stony at the sound of the pet name he often uses to address you. 

“It’s just important to me as well, okay? It’s not my fault my boss heard I was going to Hong Kong and insisted I come to interview some investors about Hong Kong’s economy.” He explains slowly. “It couldn’t take more than a single day to get everything organised and tidied up.” 

“But-!” You huff angrily, spitting out your words. “You don’t understand! You keep doing this, Namjoon. You keep working, working, working. It’s been this way since college. It’s like you’ll die if you just take a break to come talk to me. I even went over to your office to have lunch with you last week and they told me you were in a meeting.” 

“It was important!” Namjoon insists and he can feel things sinking and getting worse and worse with every word he says. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? You can’t expect me to put you in front of all of my responsibilities. I’m sure you have things you can’t give up for me too.”

Hearing that felt like a slap to the face to both you and Namjoon, and he’s screaming at himself internally, why would you say something so, so, stupid?

“Excuse me?” Your broken voice rings out and Namjoon’s accusatory finger falls. 

“Wait.” He mumbles, fumbling with his hands. “Wait, I didn’t mean that. Wait, I-” 

“Fine!” You yell angrily. “You think nothing’s more important than work? You think I haven’t given up anything for you, Kim Namjoon? Because I’d quit and give up anything for you, you asshole.” You bite out, tears desperately trying not to fall. “You fucking asshole.” You say, before turning back around to weave through the crowd. 

“No, wait, baby!” He calls out, and even he knows that he’s messed up. Messed up big time. That was more hurtful than any cuss word or insult he could’ve ever said. “Kim fucking Namjoon, you idiot.” He mumbles to himself. Seeing you cry is more painful than anything else in the world, Namjoon thinks. He’s not ever going to see that sight again if he can help it. 

He walks forward, trying to find you. Maybe you went back to the hotel, or went to look at the sea to clear your head. He thinks he sees the back of your head for a second, and he reaches forward, clutching at air. He’s about to cry, and Namjoon has never seen himself be more pathetic. 

“Oh no, where are you?” He murmurs to himself like a crazed man. What if you were hurt somewhere? He needs to know you’re safe, he needs to know you’re okay, he needs to make everything better. With each step, the lead feeling in his throat grows heavier and heavier until he feels like it’s sunk to his chest. He wants to kneel down, he wants it to stop hurting, but he can’t. 

He must aimlessly follow his shell to do whatever he is doing now. 

The lead feeling continues to grow, and Namjoon feels like he’s suffocating. He’s not supposed to be here, he reminds himself. But he has to find you first, then he can leave. Then he can go, but where are you? He wants to cry, he wants to breathe. 

Namjoon tells himself to gasp for air, but he cannot. He tells himself if this is the last time he ever sees you, he needs to see you smile. He needs to see you laugh. 

Like the pattern in the rest of his meaningless life, an evil deity always pulls him away from the ones he loves when he needs them most. He feels the lead feeling being lifted and pure panic races to Namjoon’s head. He tries to croak out no. He tries to resist, he shoves people aside and calls out your name. But no one answers him, and the cruel deity laughs at his demise. 

He is too weak, too weak to control himself. 

Namjoon is plucked out of the world and transported back to his bedroom with the threads of time slowly ravelling and tangling themselves around his neck, all while he reaches forward, only to grasp at air and pretend in his head that everything’s alright. 

When he reaches his bedroom and wakes up, he stumbles into the bathroom and vomits, all while longing for the warmth of your lips.

-

Walking around dazedly, Namjoon somehow manages to make his way to Seokjin and Jimin’s apartment, knocking and hoarsely asking them to open, open up please. Because he’s not sure he can hold on to another night alone. Jimin opens the door instantly and catches Namjoon in his arms, frantically calling for Seokjin to come fast. 

They lay him on the couch, hearts slowly breaking and trying to convince themselves their friend will be fine as they watch Namjoon whimper in his sleep. 

Namjoon wakes to the smell of breakfast, of bacon on the stove and Jimin chattering around while watering his plants. He gets up, headache pounding and throat sore. Seokjin wordlessly hands him a few pills and a glass of water, while Jimin plates up breakfast, placing the sausage, eggs and toast separately on the plate because Namjoon can’t stand it when food on his plate touches. 

Silently, the three friends eat. Nobody speaks until Namjoon clears his throat and looks up. 

“Thank you.“ He whispers. 

“What are friends for?” Jimin says. 

Namjoon wonders why he’s got such amazing friends. Jin replies that he was born perfect and God created him like this, so Namjoon shouldn’t dwell too much on it. Jimin and Namjoon both throw a spoon of scrambled eggs in his direction simultaneously, high fiving without missing a beat when Jin lets out a protest of unjust behaviour. 

 As the three friends sit quietly, Namjoon says: “I think I’m going mad.”

“I’m glad you’ve realised.” Seokjin replies offhandedly. 

“I don’t think I can keep going between these worlds. I think it’s making me lose my mind.” 

Jimin stills. Seokjin stops washing the dishes and turns off the faucet. 

“Do… do you know how to stop it?” Jimin asks hesitantly. Namjoon shakes his head, and Seokjin sighs, in deep thought, which is a strange and rare sight to see itself. 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure this out together.” Seokjin says casually. Jimin agrees and the faucet comes back on, Seokjin going straight back to washing the pan he used to fry up the scrambled eggs. Jimin unplugs the toaster and Namjoon sits, smiling at his beloved friends. 

“You can borrow some of my shirts.” Jimin calls from the bathroom. “You know, if you want to stay over a couple more nights. Feel free.”

“Make yourself at home and shit.” Seokjin mutters, waving his hand around sarcastically. Namjoon almost bursts out into tears of happiness, but he decides to hold it in until Seokjin doesn’t have access to his phone and won’t put Namjoon’s breakdown on instagram live. 

The next day, the entire gang comes over, all with varying degrees of understanding what the hell is going on with Namjoon. For example, Yoongi pretty much knows as much as Seokjin does, who still doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Taehyung was just told Namjoon’s been feeling down because God knows that boy has a big mouth and definitely can’t keep a secret to save his life. 

Seokjin supplies homemade snacks and burgers fresh off the grill, Yoongi brings over his unlimited Netflix and HBO account passwords he probably stole off of some innocent family member to watch Disney movies, Taehyung comes over with Yeontan clutched to his side because that’s the group's emotional support dog. Jungkook and Hoseok offer up their extensive alcohol collection and bring over some quality wines. Jimin, after a long three hours of consideration, gives up his lucky plushies and fluffy blankets to build a fort. 

For one night, the seven boys crowds around the television, watching everything from The Lorax to Tangled to Frozen and bawling their eyes out when Anna turned to ice (spoiler alert!!!) For one night, the fully grown men all turn back into their 8 year old selves, playing video games and staying up as late as they wanted even though they all had responsibilities to tend to the next day. 

When they all awake from their mega-sleepover the next morning, the remaining six friends all insist they just felt like watching Disney movies and drinking wine suddenly. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Namjoon’s been feeling a little off in the past few days. 

Absolutely not. 

Namjoon’s eyes brim with tears and he tackles all the boys to the ground in one incredibly coordinated group hug, ignoring Yoongi’s complaints of being anti-social and that his love language is not physical touch. 

“Thanks, guys.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook mutters. “Now could you please get the fuck off?” 

“Never.” Namjoon says, muffled because he says it while his head is buried in Hoseok’s chest. 

“Love you.”

“... Love you too.” 

The next time he falls, Namjoon thinks he’s prepared. Ready, not to get attached, ready to make clear of what belongs in his world and what doesn’t, after lots of pep talks and therapy sessions with Seokjin and Jimin and Yoongi, who is surprisingly helpful with shooting down ideals of toxic masculinity and talking about mental health. 

He’s wrong- he’s not ready, but he doesn’t know that yet. 

Click. 

He’s come to resent that stupid sound. In an instant, he’s dropped into a car, which is strangely familiar. You are next to him, driving, and thank goodness, because everyone knows Namjoon cannot drive. If he were dropped in the driver’s seat, things may have taken a turn for the worse. 

“You want to play some music?” You ask, and Namjoon nods. 

“Yeah sure, turn up the radio.” You reach over to flip a switch and a pretty tune fills the car, echoing and bouncing off the walls of the small vessel. You bring your hand down and interlace it with Namjoon’s, who is suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings. 

“You’re driving, baby.” He says, and a great sense of relief floods back into his system when he sees you smile at the pet name. He hopes this moment is after the Hong Kong trip. He hopes he did the right thing and made up with you afterwards. 

“We always do this. When there’s not many cars around, anyway.” You hum along with the music. “Nobody’s on the road tonight.” Sure enough, there are no cars in sight and Namjoon sighs, curling his hand tight against yours. He looks out the window. 

“No stars tonight, either.” 

You snort. “There are never any stars around the city, babe.”

“Ahh.” He huffs playfully. “Fuck global warming.”

“Fuck capatalism.” You add on, and he nods, wholeheartedly agreeing. 

“I love you.” He murmurs. 

“I love you too.” You reply with a sweet smile and Namjoon just realises that no, he’s not ready to let go of you, because his heart still flips like crazy when he hears you say that. He’s so unbearably, horribly, absolutely in love with you. Not in a creepy or obsessive way like he was probably in love with you a few months ago, but so in love with you. 

He wonders why on earth he’s so drawn to you, but as usual, there’s no definite answers to his questions. Namjoon thinks about how he likes the way you cook pancakes, and how he likes the way you always reach down to pet a puppy no matter where you are or where you need to be. He loves the way you’d give up anything to defend the people you love. He admires your bravery and your courage. He admires the way you present yourself to the world. 

He loves you simply because you are who you are, unapologetically and unashamed, which is something he never had the guts to do. But he gets pretty damn near to being fully and truly himself when he’s around you, so maybe that’s why he’s so in love with you. 

Namjoon feels bad for a moment because he realises his love isn’t selfless or humble like the ones he sees on dramas and TV. His love for you is shamefully selfish, because he needs you more than anything else. He voices this out to you in a long speech while you keep your eyes on the road. 

“I need you more than you think I do, Joon.” You say, while laughing, and Namjoon doesn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved. 

“You think your love for me can trump my love for you?” He asks with his eyebrows raised.

“One hundred percent.” You drawl out, and this time, Namjoon’s offended. 

“Excuse me? Who the fuck?” He asks, sitting up. You laugh bashfully, enamoured but mostly just entertained by your needy boyfriend who is very willing to prove how much more he loves you right now. “I love you way more than you love me!” 

You laugh, your eyes still fixed on the road. “Oh no, please, we’re not arguing about this.”

“Yes we are!” Namjoon demands with a huge smile on his face. “How could you possibly think you love me more than I love you?” Your laugh only grows louder. 

“I don’t even know if you’re being serious or just joking around anymore.” You say through bit back laughter. 

“I’m being dead serious.” Namjoon softens for a bit, laying a hand on your thigh. “You’re my everything. You’re my future, you’re my present, you’re my past.” A part of you wants to tell him he’s being cheesy again, but the romantic in you who doesn’t want to hurt your boyfriend immediately shuts the realist in you up. 

“That was sweet.”

“I try my best.”

You turn your head back to the road and he keeps his eyes on you. On the hoodie you’re wearing, which definitely doesn’t belong to you and he now has a certain inkling of where his missing hoodie went. He likes how it swallows you up. He likes that you have something of his on you. 

Not as a weird mark of possession, but he likes that you’re comfortable with wearing something that essentially brands you as his. But you are his as much as he is yours and wow, Namjoon thinks in his head, is this the real Namjoon or the past Namjoon speaking? And his brain replies that it’s both. 

“I love you.” He repeats, because as much as he seems to say it, he can’t seem to express how much he loves you (hint: it’s a large amount). 

“I love you too.” You say right back. 

He wants to say it more. He wants to say it better. He wants to repeat it until you get annoyed and tell him to shut up, he wants to let you know how much he loves you. But his lips are sealed, and he can’t say another word. Instead of what he wants to say, the words that come out his mouth are, admittedly, just as true. 

“You’re pretty.” 

You giggle. “Did you just realise?” 

Namjoon shakes his head. “You’ve always been pretty. You were pretty on the day we met. You were pretty the day we fought in Hong Kong. You were pretty the first time you stayed over. You’re pretty when you cry, you’re pretty when you… I wanted to think of something that rhymes with cry, but it slipped my mind and now everything’s ruined.” 

You laugh, a real, huge one this time. He can always tell when your laugh is real or not. 

“Thank you.” You say. “For the record, you’ve always been pretty too.” 

Namjoon leans back into his seat. “Damn straight.” 

“When d’you think you first fell in love with me?” You ask, genuinely curious, and Namjoon thinks for a moment. He thinks about what the Namjoon in this moment would say, and he thinks about what the present Namjoon would say. 

If he had verbal control, what would he say? That he fell in love with you during the very first memory he was thrusted in? But that wouldn’t be true, and that wouldn’t be honest. He fell in love with you during the memory of when you met? But that wouldn’t be true either. He fell in love with you in between memories, when all he could think about was the next time you could be in his arms, or how much he longed for your touch. 

He tries to say that, he really does. 

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is: 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s a specific moment. Maybe it was that time we went to the movies and watched Coco while crying over popcorn, or maybe it was that time we went to Disneyland.” Namjoon’s heart slouches, because he doesn’t know any of those moments. He hasn’t been in any of those memories. 

“But I don’t think falling in love is a one moment, time stops kinda thing. I was always falling in love with you. From the time you spilled yogurt on my jacket to right now, where you’re asking me when I fell in love with you. I’m going to be falling in love with you tomorrow and the day after that, until the day where we shrivel up and die from old age.”

Oh, good answer, Namjoon thinks. 

“Good answer.” You say. “I think I’d say the same thing.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Namjoon sighs out. 

Something strikes Namjoon’s heart. It’s not the lead feeling or the heavy weight he’s grown used to. It’s strange, like a wave of deja vu. And suddenly, Namjoon stops thinking. He glances over to the control board to look at the time, which proudly reads: December 3rd, 2018. 

So that’s why he’s always had the feeling that these were memories. Why he was so adamant to believe these things really had happened to him. Even more strangely, what feelings strike him then is not panic, nor fear. It’s a strange flow of calmness that rushes through his veins. He looks over at you again, driving now with both hands on the steering wheel. 

He wonders why the deity would make him witness something as cruel and horrible as this, and he gets the weird feeling that this will be one of his last memories to enter. Namjoon looks at the dark blanket covering the sky and sadly thinks that the deity could have at least placed a few stars in the sky on this night. As consolation, or perhaps an apology. 

Something is ticking in the background, and Namjoon has no idea if it’s coming from the car or if he’s imagining it. Flashing memories go through his mind, so fast he can barely register them as images or moving pictures before they are gone again. Your smile, your laugh, your first date, your second date. The day he asked you to move in, the day you told him ‘I love you’ for the first time and he literally fainted. 

The day he came to pick you up from work for the first time, the night where he first laid his hands on you and kissed all your worries away. 

It comes fast and hurtles towards the two of you, but Namjoon doesn’t even see it coming because all he is looking at is you. Your face, your lips, your eyes, trying to engrave it all in his memory. You yelp out something to him, which he doesn’t hear. Floating images spin around both your heads and a high pitched screech rings out, a spark of orange lighting up like a stack of fireworks. The dark van shoots forward and collides into the driver’s seat. 

The world collapses. It goes sideways, rotates then flips completely upside down, and the dark fog starts to eat up Namjoon’s eyesight. Oddly, nothing hurts. Perhaps because of the shock, or panic, but nothing on Namjoon’s body is in pain. Everything crashes, Namjoon’s head hits the window with force. Something breaks, glass cracks, people scream and he cannot tell which is which. Red and white flashes are all he can see before everything fades to grey and he can only reach around in the darkness, to find your hand. 

He clutches onto your unmoving, still hand desperately, trying to calm his jumping heartbeat. Are those sirens in the background he hears or is that his imagination? Is that your voice he hears or is that a hallucination? 

In the end, his final thought before leaving the world once again is a wish. A wish that he prays the deity will grant him. He hopes that in your final moments, you were not scared. 

He falls. 

When Namjoon arrives home, his entire body is numb. He doesn’t know where he is, nor what he was doing before he was clicked in. He opens his mouth and screams for a full minute without stopping. 

It feels good in a fucked up way. 

Namjoon has never been one for confrontation. Just ask his middle school bullies, who tormented him all they wanted because he wouldn’t do anything but put up with it. Just ask Mingyu from work, who keeps piling his unwanted projects and articles onto Namjoon because he never protests or complains to the higher-ups. 

But while walking towards his childhood home with the birds chirping and his hands placed casually in his pockets, confrontation is all he can think about. He lets himself in the door; his mother never locks it and walks in calmly. 

His mother is sitting on the couch, stitching up a sock which has a hole in it. 

“Mom. I’m home.” He says softly, and his mother greets him normally. Namjoon leans on the wall and his mother stares at him strangely, calling him over to sit and have some fruit. He declines, telling her he won’t be staying very long. “That car crash that happened two years ago.”

The needle in his mother’s hand stills. 

“They said I had selective amnesia, right?” 

The needle picks up speed, stitching faster and faster, his mother’s hand moving faster than light. 

“What did I forget again?” 

“What did you remember?” His mother asks, never one to beat around the bush. 

“Mom.” He says, firmly this time. “What did you do to me.”

The sock is torn apart in his mother’s hands. “Namjoon,” She starts and Namjoon already has a growing urge to shake the truth out of her. “When you got into that crash two years ago, you came out of it with very little injuries. We were all so relieved. When you woke up, you didn’t remember Y/N.” All that fills the air for another moment or two is the spongy sound of silence. 

The gap in this family became clearer than ever to Namjoon. He thinks about how everyone must have been in on the secret, even his sister. And he was left to suffer, wondering why his life seemed so empty after forgetting something he couldn’t clutch onto. 

“And what?” He demands, screaming and throwing his hands out of his pockets. “Do you think you can just keep something like that from me? The love of my life, and you just decide to erase them from my memory?” His mother stills and looks up at her son. 

“You didn’t remember Y/N. You lost contact with all your college friends, and then when I asked the doctor how selective amnesia worked,” His mother cleared her throat. “Sufferers often forget some parts of their memory. Relationships, talents, skills, certain areas or certain people.” His mother looks up directly in his eyes. “Sometimes, especially after going through a traumatic event, people forget certain parts of their memory as a coping mechanism. To erase bits of pain and regret.”

“I thought,” Her voice breaks and her face twists in regret and bad memories. “I thought maybe by forgetting her, I’d be saving you from more pain and hurt. I just wanted you to stop hurting”

Namjoon held eye contact with his mother for three full seconds before collapsing and gasping for air, lying with his head on her lap. All words of scolding, anger. All the confrontational tactics and all the accusations he’d thought of shooting towards her had gone. 

“Hurts.” He let out through large gasps of breaths. “Hurts, mom.” He lied there, with tears threatening to spill out his eyes for the rest of the night, with his mother caressing his hair and apologising to him with tears in her eyes. 

“Miss Y/N. I miss Y/N.” He hiccups out, and his mother wipes away his tears, but it feels different from when you used to do it. 

“I know, I know.” The woman looking down at her son wonders why she put him in so much pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” The night carries on like that, with the lights eventually dimming and the night covers up the light in the sky. The mother son pair repeat their grievances and apologies to each other until the sun comes back up, peeking through the curtains and extending out their warm embrace as if it wants to comfort the hurting humans. 

It doesn’t take long for Seokjin and co to come knocking on his door, sent by his mother who must have filled him in on everything, judging from the looks on their faces. It only takes one single glance at his friends, tilting their heads and all asking to come in for him to burst into tears. Ugly crying, with snot coming out of his nose and eyes bloodshot red from the nightmares. 

Jimin is the first to reach forwards and bring Namjoon into a hug. Soon after that, the six friends surrounded Namjoon, comforting him with the warmth of their arms and soft spoken words of encouragement. 

“You did well.” Someone mumbles into his hair. 

“We’re all proud of you.” Someone else says. 

Namjoon’s sweater sleeves are sopping wet with tears when he asks the boys to help him get into therapy. 

Things went on like that for another while. 

Therapy isn’t as bad as Namjoon had thought it might’ve been. He wasn’t forced to be vulnerable or open up or confront his worst fears. He certainly didn’t want to tell the truth about the world he’s thrusted in, for fear of getting thrown out of the building and into a mental institution. 

Even his mother didn’t believe him the first time he told her about it. She urged him to visit a doctor. How could a therapist who doesn’t even know him believe the nonsense he spouts? Even he himself wouldn’t believe himself if he hadn’t experienced it firsthand. Slowly, but surely, he began to open up, and to his surprise, there was no calling of hospitals or kicking him out. His therapist sat there and listened like everything he was saying was valid. 

He started eating again, mostly because of Seokjin, stuffing his creations down everyone’s throats every two seconds, claiming he needs opinions on his new recipes even though Namjoon’s fairly certain that the past three dishes of spaghetti were the exact same recipe. 

Namjoon started to workout again with Jungkook, much to the younger boy’s surprise and happiness. They talked about their own struggles while panting on the treadmill and spinner. Jungkook eventually tells him that he also has a secret he keeps from the rest of the guys, which is his high school sweetheart who broke his heart so horribly that he still feels hurt from it. 

Jungkook told him to cheer up though, because most of the pain fades away with time. It’s still there, ever as present, but other things will become more important to you and cover up a scar or a wound with blooming flowers. 

“Like us,” He said cheekily. “Your friends.” 

He talked to Yoongi most days of the week about nothing in particular. He enjoys the time with Yoongi because he’s the only one who never walks on eggshells around him. He still pelts him with pillows and roasts the outfits on Rupaul’s Drag Race with him. Taehyung and Jimin even helped him adopt a dog, an furry white Eskimo named Rap Mon which is literally now Namjoon’s entire life. 

Would likely kill all of his friends if one of them hurt his precious baby. 

Life is good, Namjoon learns. He gets better at his job. He never forgets you, but things seem to hurt less. But he gets relapses sometimes. Some days he wakes up screaming about the stupid lead filling up his throat. Sometimes he gets nightmares so intense he has to take medicine.

Therapy isn’t as bad as he painted it out to be, but recovery is ten times harder than he thought it would be. Some days all he can do is lie in bed or do nothing, thinking of you. 

His therapist tells him that his life is more than his past memories. Both Yoongi and Hoseok agree, when he pulled up a random conversation about it late at night. Hoseok says that there’s never going to be a time where he won’t think of you, or still love you. Perhaps not as much as he once did, but he’ll never forget about you. Yoongi tells him he’s healing, and that they’re all proud of him.

Namjoon meets his friends, for the first time in the two years he’s known them. Taehyung has an extraordinary and (slightly strange) obsession over art museums. He’s been to almost every single one in Korea, and he dragged Namjoon over to one an hour away in Gangnam in the summer. Jimin is an amazing dancer, which Namjoon never knew.

Until Jimin brought it up casually, looking through old footage of his dance competitions. “Nothing big,” He said. “I used to dabble.” Namjoon’s eyes bulged out of his head and he told Jimin if that was ‘dabbling’, then he was wasting away his talent. He asked Jimin why he never made a career out of dance, and Jimin replied casually:

“I feel like if I start to make money off of it, and I’ll lose my love for it. Now that I haven’t really has time for it... I dunno. I feel like I’ve lost the talent a little bit.“

Namjoon told his friend that talent is nothing but a bunch of practice and time dedicated to a certain skill. Nobody loses talent, people just get a little unfamiliar with it. Jimin turned around in deep thought and told him he may just have a point. 

Still, some days, he can do nothing but sulk around, feeling like a waste of space. Take today for an example. He walks down the street and out of the corner of his eye, he thinks, and he might be wrong, he thinks he sees you. The back of your head, anyways, but you’re wearing a red sweater with headphones over your ears and you turn around the corner. 

Namjoon panics. He drops his coffee, which splashes all over his leather shoes and runs. He runs past the corner and he doesn’t know what on earth he’s doing but all he can do is run, and the wind dries his tears faster and faster, and he forgets all over again, that you aren’t here, that there’s no way he can go back and see you unless it’s in his memories, which he doesn’t even know how to control. 

Somewhere deep in the depths of his mind, he knows something about this doesn’t seem right. That it couldn’t possibly be you, because he watched you go right in front of his eyes. He knows that in order to heal, he can’t chase after you or center his world around you. He knows all of that. But in that moment, he forgets that he still doesn’t remember everything about you. 

He forgets that you’re dead. 

And one day he’ll be free from this constant spinning. One day he won’t ever have to think twice when he cooks pancakes but that day and all that work he’s put in is the last thing on Namjoon’s mind and all he can think about is if that’s really you. 

He sprints faster and reaches out, misses your wrist by an inch and ends up clutching at nothing but air. He heaves a huge breath, about to clap his hand over your shoulder-

Click. 

tags; @jksbbyfacebunny @extremeobsessions101 @dwcljh @bishuthot @s0seo @stonyiscanon @cecedrake2217​ 

#bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts fic recs #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #bts icons #bts fic #namjoon fic #namjoon x you #bts cute #bts scenarios #bts imagines #namjoon headcanon #time travel bts #bts rm #namjoon au

[daddywright]

I have only recently got into the ace attorney fandom, and this story was the first story I read, and I feel spoiled! I absolutely loved every chapter, so I'm gonna word vomit here and tell you everything I love about this!

"She offers him a smile. It’s small, tentative, but it possesses a strength that makes a hidden part of him twist and burn with quiet envy." the first time we see nick's wish to be as strong as mia!

Considering the fact that nick didn't have any prominent figure in his life, it makes sense that he would look up to gregory so much

"Phoenix looks up, and starts walking towards Mia Fey

He doesn't stop for two years."

THE RELATIONSHIP THAT MIA AND NICK HAD WAS PRECIOUS AND DESERVES MORE THAN WHAT THE FANDOM GIVES THEM

"Larry’s arms wrap around him, squeezing almost too tight" People forget that Larry and Phoenix were good friends too, and Larry would help his best friend

"Nobody believed him, nobody but Mia" Maya is what Phoenix is to Mia and I adore that

"He wishes, desperately, that he’d said it while she was still alive. I loved you. For everything you did." Not you absolutely breaking my fucking heart

Also the first AA game felt unnatural in the sense of how seemingly unaffected Phoenix seemed at Mia's murder so I'm really glad you wrote it this way

"Expensive. Thoughtful. Too much." SHUT UP NICK YOU DESERVE ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING

Also quick break to mention how I absolutely fucking love your writing style and i wish I was literally half as talented as you cuz the last time I read something that made me feel this multitude of emotions was ocean vuong. And I practically worship Ocean Vuong. So now I worship you too

"You're a stranger to me // When will I stop hoping?" I never really realised just how badly nick musta been hurt by good ol' bratworth before this fic, but now that I have read it, it would have hurt him so bad

"Is this why you never answered my letters? Because I was a reminder? Because it hurt too much?" Honestly what happened to miles and phoenix's friendship hurts so much because it should have never happened, and miles didn't deserve that.

"Maybe Miles Edgeworth is not the man he thought he’d be, either." yo when I tell you this hurt I mean this huRT

Fun fact! My birthday is on the same day as DL-6 anniversary. Gregory Edgeworth died on my birthday. I feel horrible now

"monster. You were nine years old and he's a monster. " No one has made me feel this much emotion for what happened to Miles in a single sentence other than you. I commend you for that

"I love you," he says quietly. He has never said those words to anyone, except for Dahlia Hawthorne.

Maya sniffs in his ear, crushing him tight. "I love you, too."

He has never heard them back.

PHOENIX HAS NEVER HEARD THE WORDS " I LOVE YOU" COME BACK TO HIM ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME WHY NOW I'M SAD

"Tell me everything. Every detail—" Miles is worried bout nick and why wouldn't he? gods you're so gay miles but tbf if I knew someone like nick irl i'd go ballistic too

"He determined the motive for his own assault...with amnesia. Naturally." My man's smart af and he is king

"Is that what she thinks of me? That I'm like that? That I don't care about who the bad guys really are?" Gumshoe noooo you're hella precious! Also this particular chapter was so well written! loved this soo much!

Also taking a minute to appreciate the pacing! Rarely do I ever come across an author who just hits that sweet spot of perfect pacing and you did! so thank you!

Alright so here are a few thoughts that I felt capcom needed to do which you did for us!

no. 1 - Address the trauma phoenix faced with not only dahlia but also with mia's death

no. 2 - Actually fucking flesh out a good relationship dynamic between larry and phoenix

no. 3 - actually! have! phoenix! be hurt! in bridge to turnabout! istg my man would not have dropped from a burning bridge to a freezing river only to have a cold

AUNT FRANZY AND PEARLS MAN!

THEY CUTE

ok so I have a LOT of feelings for bridge to turnabout and HOO BOY BUCKLE UP

So I always thought that in this fic, miles must have felt fucking awful! I mean he very clearly hates who he was and what that has led to but that must have been doubled over with this case! Phoenix would have died if not for mia and it would have been indirectly miles's fault. I think about that alot

Like he said that he very much regrets whatever he did as bratworth in the phone call with gumshoe but i don't think he anticipated this. poor edgeworth

Also I think this was the final nail in the coffin for miles. Phoenix forgave him, after all the fucked up shit miles did, and that made that man go "how is this guy so fucking compassionate awwwww shit I'm in fucking love with this idiotic brave man".

my main thoughts were "holy shit phoenix must have been feeling awful." like to learn that you were in love with a person who turned out to be a murderer but then not a murderer cuz everything you felt about that was real and just...... it must have hurt. He never fell in love with dahlia. it was iris, always. and WHAT ABOUT MILES DURING THIS!!! Like to learn that the man you love was falsely led to believe that he was in love with a person he rarely met and then learn that his ex who is not murderous might still be in love with him because "that was real. that part was real." like damn. people just gloss over this

also I feel terrible for iris F in the chat for iris lads.

Dahlia literally haunting that courtroom scene. I felt mia's power. I felt her desperation. I felt everything and I am once again in awe of the absolute power your writing holds.

also godsdamn pearls had to go through all that shit huh. also FRANMAYAAAAAA THANK YOUUUU

I too, am a hoe confused as to what I should feel towards diego.

Ok anyways we jump to disbarment now

"He just winks at her and says Maya has other talents, and if Mystic Maya overhears, she puffs up at him like the fish from the aquarium she saw once, the one with all the spikes and silly eyes."

you know what constantly amazes me? your ability to change tones so effortlessly. When writing from edgey's pov, the language is sophisticated. precise. when writing from pearly's pov your language is simplistic, child-like. from phoenix's pov it's natural. grounded

"She never knew anybody who made faces like him, growing up in Kurain, and it’s one of the things that makes him special." Yo phoenix is the most amazing uncle ever and we all know it ok he's brilliant

I'M RUNNING OUT OF CHARACTER LIMITS

PEARLY CALLING EDGEY AT FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE I'M SOFFFFTTTT

“I think I did something really bad." trucy baby no it's not your fault

pearl and trucy bonding supremacy. my girls would fuck shit up

"She’d meant to do this properly, one day." Thank you for giving importance to maya's feelings. thank you for treating her like a real human being. thank you

“Everything that happened...for what? It’s only gotten people hurt. Pearly. Our mother.” Me. Me." I felt so bad for maya here. I wish I could tell you in precise words about how this exact framing of the sentence is what broke me. "me. me" maya deserved more, but mia did all she could

"What do scared kids need? ...Food." not you breaking my godsdamn heart again. phoenix just knows what's it like being a helpless child, and he'll be damned if he ever lets anyone face that again

“‘Course, Pearls,” he says reflexively, before frowning. “What for?” reflexively. if every man in the world could be like phoenix wright then the world would be worthy of the gods

"Another one?" give it 2 years edgey she'll be your daughter too

"after countless hours creating the man’s living space in his mind from the background snatches he’d seen in the man’s ridiculous video calls." NOT ONLY DO THEY VC FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON BUT ALSO MILES ACTUALLY SPENDS TIME TRYING TO RECREATE HIS ROOM?? BECAUSE HE WOULD ONE DAY LIKE TO BE IN IT??? good gods these bitches gay. good for them

"because just as day is light and night is dark, Phoenix Wright is an honorable man." damn straight. you love to see it (it being a 27+ year old man pining for another 27+ year old man)

also hey miles! how do you feel about the fact that the man you love changed his fucking major and degrees halfway through college just so he could see you again only for you to be incredibly rude to him and make him end up in jail! (i bully edgeworth cuz i love him)

"Wright finishes, shrugging like it’s nothing, like his commitment and belief isn’t the most extraordinary thing that Miles has ever faced." it's more than pining at this point. it's incredible faith and trust. Miles had someone who cared about him even after all those years despite him having changed so drastically, ofc he would be surprised. Miles loves phoenix and so do i.

also HOT DAMN YOU WRITING IS JUST * MWAH *

Also the whole segment where they kiss is just !!!!! miles wants! it's beautiful! THEY'RE IN LOVEEE

receiving poisonous bottles which your ex tried to kill you with. My man can't get a break huh

Miles being chivalrous and protective and absolutely stealing my godsdamn heart (and phoenix's too)!

Klavier being the absolute king that he is we stan

The hostage situation section? gods miles must have been terrified.

Phoenix not being able to promise pearly that he'd always come back home and miles hearing it and like... ouch. my heart. you didn't need to do that (but i love your for it)

GODS THE CLIMAX WITH KRISTOPH WAS SOOO SATISFYING AND LIKE MY MAN PHOENIX REALLY PUNCHED THAT BITCH HUH

klavier baby I am so sorry

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL!

and thus my comment ends. I believe I have almost used up all of my commenting limits and i leave with these few parting words : HOLY SHIT YOUR AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU!

also I made a playlist on spotify for this fic! here's the link : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3k8lRHiO8ZXQDLpiTUL7SN?si=fc3b35b4ab064867

gods this was long huh

GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY....WHERE DO I BEGIN...THE FACT THAT YOU BROKE THE CHARACTER LIMIT ON AO3 AND MADE A PLAYLIST? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?

thank you so much for all the amazing things you said....i am crying on a Wednesday morning knowing my writing was appreciated this much. thank you!

#ask tag #long post #my fic #nymphietonkslupin

[definitelynotkatesblog]

Beg ∣ Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

A/N: Hi, friends! This is my first time writing a fanfic piece, so of course it had to be for my love, Dr. Spencer Reid! This literally started out as a blurb in the notes app in my phone of maybe.... one line of dialogue?

Also, I am ready and willing to receive feedback! Please enjoy! 

If this opening scene was in a movie, the opening lines of Me & Mr. Jones by Amy Winehouse would be playing.

Nobody stands

In between me and my man

Me and Mr. Jones

(Me and Mr. Jones)

What kind of fuckery is this?

Category: Smut (and some cuteness at the end)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Dom!Spencer, PostPrison!Spencer, bondage, unprotected penetrative sex, con/non con, safe word mention (not used, just mentioned), mention of overstimulation, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, indication of sub-drop? (then after care).

Word count: 3.0k 

Prison had changed Spencer. Obviously. Your once timid, tightly wound, germaphobe genius was now eerily patient, quicker to react, and able to eat in group settings with less hesitation. He was also more dominant with you in and out of the bedroom- just more assertive in general. Even his coworkers at the BAU mentioned his demeanor had changed when working on cases.

You had assumed it was due to him not feeling in control for those months he was property of the prison, and needing to exert his control in other aspects once he could eat and sleep on his own schedule. 

Before Spencer had gone away, your sex life was great- he was always sweet and attentive but rough when he needed to be. It was a mirror of his personality. 

Though you’d never know the extent of what happened in those concrete walls- and you’d never actually say this to Spencer- you weren’t terribly upset about the changes that resulted in the man who came out on the other end.

This man was more primally need-driven, more calloused and hungry than the Spencer you knew before. His words became fewer while his actions spoke volumes. He devoured you like you were his last meal on earth every time his hands were on you, like he was afraid this time might be the last time you two would be together. 

 His hands were more strong and confident with his touches, his mouth and movements more sure. Gone were the hesitant questions asked by fingers skimmed lightly over skin, and here to stay were imprints left from sure grips, unafraid to show signs of possession. 

His hunger and drive, these new deeper and darker urges had also allowed you to come out of your sex-shell. You weren’t afraid to ask for things that you feared my have intimidated Spencer before. There wasn’t anything you couldn’t ask for and nothing he wouldn’t do to you, for you. Did it make sense to trust him more now that he’d gone to prison?

You knew his newfound desires could be a sense of shame for him, but you wouldn’t let them be. If anything, you wanted him to be the one he explored them with more than anything. 

You rose to the challenge and arrived on the other side victorious- usually in a sweaty heap of bliss.

******

Murder in your eyes, you watched him cross the room to fasten your wrist in the restraint dangling from the bedpost. 

Once he was satisfied you wouldn’t be able to move from your slightly spread eagle position, he rounded the corner back to the foot of the bed, leaning forward to place his palms on the soft duvet, just staring. 

“Comfortable?” he asked nonchalantly, like he was asking about the fucking weather. 

You tried to lunge forward, but the restraints at your wrists quickly snapped you back, reminding you of what a not great idea that was. The fabric stuffed in your mouth as a makeshift gag caught most of the profanities you spat at him and turned them into nonsense. 

He chuckled and shook his head, “Glad to hear it.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the rise and fall of your chest quickening as you realized the gravity of the situation- you really couldn’t get out of these restraints. And you really weren’t sure if you wanted to. 

“Do you know why I like when you’re tied up?”

Attempting to keep your face as stoic as possible, you offered no reaction and turned your head away from him, opting to look at the artwork on the wall instead. 

“Because when you’re tied up, you can’t get in my way of taking what I want.” His voice was level and low, speaking matter of factly. 

At this statement, you couldn’t help but throw him an incredulous look and an over-the-top eye roll.  

“And you can’t stop me from fucking you and making you cum as many times as it takes to break you,” he continued. 

The idea of that kind of delirious pleasure instantly caused a pool of heat to flood your lower belly, spreading through your veins. 

He made his way around to the side of the bed, watching your face with a thoughtful expression. 

His hand caressed the side of your face, cupping your cheek before forming a strong grip on your jaw. You tried keeping your face turned away, but were quickly humbled by the sharp turn of his wrist. 

Your eyes searched his, trying to determine how much truth there was in his statements. 

“Do you remember your safe words?” he asked softly. 

You nod, flexing your wrists against their restraints, and mumble around the fabric in your mouth. “Yeyow ng wed” you sighed, feigning annoyance. 

“Good. And if your mouth is full?” he prompted. 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your fingers for ‘yellow’ and snapping them for ‘red’. 

He hummed and left his position at your side and returned to the foot of the bed, content with your answers.

He crawled up on the bed and pulled your legs towards opposite sides of the bed with enough room between them for him to sit on his knees. 

You watched as he brought a hitachi wand from behind his back and place it in your line of sight. Your eyes narrowed, trying to unravel his plan. 

Suddenly his words made a lot more sense- You can’t get in the way. Make you cum as many times as I want. 

His finger traced the line between your clit and quickly dampening entrance, teasing with the lightest amount of pressure.

Your hips involuntarily made almost indiscernible movements to increase the friction, but with each movement, he would stop his ministrations and scold you with a ‘tsk tsk’.

His thumb found its way to your clit, drawing slow languid circles through the thin fabric. You tried your best to appear unbothered, but the fabric in your mouth wasn’t doing enough to stifle the whimpers slipping from your throat. 

“I bet if I checked right now, you’d be a wet fucking mess. Is that right?”

Even though you’d been betrayed by your body, you opted to test your luck with shaking your head no. 

“Hmmmm, see, I don’t think that’s quite right.”

His hands found their way to the edges of your panties and dragged them down your hips, thighs, knees and eventually off your body. 

Suddenly feeling very exposed, you pressed your knees together in an attempt to salvage your remaining dignity- well, what was left, after being bound to a fucking bed. 

He shook his head and placed a hand on each knee and forced them apart, staring at the apex of your thighs. His tongue poked out and made a quick sweep of his lower lip.

You knew, you just fucking knew you were in fact a wet mess, despite your best efforts to resist being turned on by the nonchalant, condescending, cocky fucking asshole he was being. 

He half smiled and chuckled, looking back up at your face. 

“Oh baby, was I right.” With that, he took a single finger and collected evidence of your arousal and brought it up to your eye level as proof. 

Without breaking eye contact, he popped the finger into his mouth, making a show of swirling his tongue around it, hollowing his cheeks, and slowly pulling it out of his mouth with a slight moan. 

Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of humiliation and raw attraction driving a fire to ignite and course through your veins. 

“God, you taste so fucking good.” he said slowly, emphasizing each word. 

Quickly returning his hand between your thighs, he dipped inside for a moment with one finger before adding another. 

The intrusion was dreadfully delicious, your hips bucking in an attempt to ride his fingers. An involuntary moan escaped your throat, muffled by the gag. 

Spencer started lazily thrusting into you, curling his fingers to meet just the right spot every time. The slow pace was agonizing- your head falling back, begging the gods above for him to grant you some sort of mercy. 

 Your head fell forward with a drawn out groan. Every time you tried to created more speed or friction, he would slow down or stop completely. 

You let out a frustrated whine, knitting your brows together to convey your displeasure with the pace he’d chosen.

Without warning, Spencer ’s fingers started plunging into you at a brutal pace, eliciting a surprised squeak and heavy pants from your lips. 

The muscles in your core tightened, your wrists pulling against the restraints as the breathy pants became moans of anticipation. 

The slow burn in your core continued to build, rushing to beat him before he decided to stop again.Your walls began convulsing around his fingers, indicating your impending orgasm.

Then, just as quickly as his fingers were there, they weren’t. Your eyes shot open, immediately searching for his. 

“Oh, did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?”

If looks could kill, he’d be one dead motherfucker. 

“I don’t think you deserve to cum yet, baby. I don’t think you want it bad enough”

Spencer’s other hand came to rest just above your mound, applying pressure on your lower belly while his thumb started circling your clit once more.

Between the deep pressure, stimulation on your clit and his relentless fingers fucking you blind, you were about to explode. Silent sobs left your chest, no air in your lungs made for a hard time breathing.

“I want to hear you beg me to fuck you” he said, his voice low and dark.

Reaching up, he removed the fabric from your mouth, tossing it to the side. 

“Beg.” 

“Fuck you,” you spat. Knuckle deep or not, there was no way you were giving in to him.

Arching an eyebrow he shook his head, reaching to his side, pulling something white into the space between his knees.

Your eyes widened at the hitachi wand in front of him, then darted to his face in an attempt to find any indication of his intention.

He climbed off the bed to remove his pajama pants. From your compromised position you had the perfect eye line to watch his dick strain against the waistband of his pants before springing free. 

Your bottom lip found itself between your teeth as a means of controlling the drool pooling in your mouth. Spencer’s laugh drew your eyes up his body until your eyes met. 

Pumping his fist a few times over his already hard cock, he climbed back onto the bed and towards you, gathering some of your wetness with the tip of his cock before positioning himself to enter you. 

Before he moved, a wicked grin flashed across his face as he reached for the wand and turned it on to its first setting, pressing it gently to the top of the hood of your clit. The introduction of the direct stimulation on your clit made every muscle in your body tense, white hot adrenaline coursing through your veins.

His thumb guided him to realign with your entrance, and he wasted no time with teasing. He quickly sheathed himself inside of you, now pressing the wand’s vibrations head deeper into your folds. 

God you wanted to fucking scream, but all that came out was a whorish moan. Your hands instinctively made a move to remove the source of the overstimulation, but were quickly reminded that wouldn’t be possible by the strain against your wrists. 

Your walls tightened around him, encouraging him to bottom out with each thrust. His aggression and moans mixed with curses let you know he was thoroughly enjoying himself. 

“Should I let you cum too?” 

His relentless thrusts did not show signs of slowing, and his clenched jaw and flared nostrils made him look, well... criminal. 

A quick flick of his wrist caused the wand to hit a sweet spot- eliciting a squeal. He pressed the buzzing head harder against the spot, wiggling it ever so slightly. Your hands formed fists as your head thrashed to the side, craning your neck- your breath hitched and came in short, shallow breaths as your body prepared to be pushed over the edge into bliss. 

That was, until Spencer removed the wand from its promising position, tossing it onto the bed beside your leg. The sound of buzzing against the sheets was dull in the background as your head swam at the loss.

In a swift motion, his arms hooked under your knees and pulled your bottom closer to the edge of the bed as far as your wrist restraints would let you. A surprised squeak left your lips as his hands positioned your ankles by his ears. 

This new position allowed him deeper access, hitting your cervix with each thrust. This new sensation caused your head to fall back against the pillow and eyes to squeeze shut. 

Quickly grabbing the wand from beside him, he matched the movement of the wand with the patterns of his thrusts, making it difficult to tell where the pleasure started and ended.

“Please please please I want to so bad,” you begged, “Oh my god, please!”

“Hmmm, want to or need to?” he asked quickly, chasing his own orgasm.  

“FUCK, need! I need to! Please I need to cum, please Spencer!”

“Cum.” It was one word, but enough to be your undoing. 

Your walls clenched around him as your hips buckled against the head of the wand. 

Your heels dug into his shoulders beneath you, arching your back off the sheets as he buried himself deeper into you. 

Air burned your lungs as they tried to force enough oxygen in between pants, a moan ripping the rest of the air from your chest. The waves crashed into you, over and over making up for lost time. 

Fire raced through your veins, curling your toes and causing your hands to form shaking fists in their tethered positions. You cried out senselessly for him to stop. 

“Good girl,” he cooed. “One more.”

You shook your head vigorously, unable to even able to wrap your head around cumming again.

“Yes,” he said. There was no room or invitation for argument. 

Voiceless pants left your throat, your mouth dry from gasping for air.

Your eyes begged Spencer to give you just a moment to breathe, which he promptly ignored. 

Setting the wand to its next highest setting, Spencer’s thrusts found a faster pace. 

His name came out between mangled moans and broken sobs. 

“Cum for me baby, come on,” he forced out between clenched teeth. You knew he had to be close too.

Your second orgasm tacked on to the tail end of the first and possessed your body with more power than you thought possible. The vibrations racked through your body leaving flames in its wake until you couldn’t register your body as your own anymore.

The feeling of Spencer throbbing inside of you, emptying himself only added to the pleasure, your walls continuing to milk him. 

Involuntary sobs escaped your lips as you came down, Spencer’s thrusts slowing, the wand returned to its lowest setting-allowing you to ride the rest of your wave down to planet Earth. 

Watching your chest heave, gasping for more air, he removed the wand from your clit and slowly withdrew himself from you.

Sweat glistened on your forehead, your cheeks flushed and hair disheveled, now dripping a mixture of your releases.  

“God you’re so fucking beautiful” he murmured, kissing the inside of your calf before gently removing your ankles from his shoulders and placing them on the bed. 

After a few moments, an overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over your body causing tears to spring to your eyes. Your lip quivered, but you bit it between your teeth in an attempt to collect yourself. 

“Shh shh shh,” he said, quickly undoing the restraints at your wrists and pulling a blanket from the foot of the bed around you. He sat on the bed and pulled you into his chest, his legs around your body with your legs thrown over one of his, gently rocking the both of you. 

“You did so good, baby. So good,” he said kissing the top of your head. 

You didn’t have any witty or snarky remarks for him. The hot tears slid down your cheeks as you pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around your body. 

His hand rubbed big, soothing circles into your back while he tucked your head under his chin. 

You pushed the blanket off your shoulders, needing to be closer to him than you currently were. He watched you turn and straddle his waist, wrapping your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck- grabbing your opposite elbows to bury your face in his neck. 

He let you settle before wrapping his arms around your back, hugging you closer to his chest. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he said matter of factly between dropping kisses on the top of your head. 

You hummed in response, too tired for real words. 

He held you for a few more minutes, rubbing your back with small circles and offering praise. 

“Do you want to take a now bath, baby?”

You grumbled a sound of protest into his neck and felt his body shake with a laugh. 

You always wanted to take a bath, baths with Spencer were your favorite thing. But at this moment you were blissfully content and unwilling to move. 

He pulled you two apart for a moment to look at your face. Brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear, he inspected your face for any residual tears.

 Your eyes met his and found a softness in his eyes you didn’t think was possible from the man who had just teased, edged and fucked you so thoroughly. 

“Five more minutes,” he conceded, kissing your forehead. 

You nodded and nestled back into your spot, pressing your lips into the side of his neck.

———

Tell me all about it!

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #Spencer reid #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #Spencer Reid x fem! reader #my writing

[official-weasley]

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: curse words, mentions of alcohol, Bill and Charlie being brothers 🤗

Chapter 12

Charlie

William Weasley

This should be the right door. I lifted my hand to knock but stopped myself. Damn, this was hard. My heart was racing like crazy and I needed every muscle in my body not to run away.

I inhaled deeply and quickly knocked on the door not to change my mind. There was no sound on the other side. Great, he’s not here. I tried the doorknob and the door creaked open. I poked my head inside. There was nobody there.

I saw another door behind his desk and even though I probably shouldn’t be entering his office, I decided to check if he might be in the next room. I slowly made my way to it and knocked. Again no sound.

“Charlie, what the fuck?” I jumped in the air, all color leaving my face.

“Hi.” I turned around and waved at my brother.

I didn’t know what to make of his face. I obviously scared him. Of course, he didn’t expect anyone in his office, especially me.

“What are you doing here, Charles?” I winced when he used my full name.

He only did that when he was really mad, which made sense.

“I came to see you.” Every speech that I had prepared was gone instantly and left my head blank.

“To see me?” He scoffed. “Seriously? It’s been two years.”

“I know.” I whispered and bowed my head.

I tried getting closer to him. Merlin, did I miss him.

“What in bloody hell is going on with you, Charlie?” He leaned on his desk and I made my way to the front door just in case I would have to flee. “Mum told me you only came home for Easter last year. Have you gone mental?”

“That’s an understatement.” I said sarcastically.

Silence fell upon us. I could feel the distance between us. The tension. The awkwardness. I could sense how furious he was with me and I could see it on his face that he was trying hard not to start shouting.

“Look.” I swallowed hard. I was here for a reason and I can’t chicken out now. If I thought I missed him before, seeing him made me realize just how much I did and I need him back. “I came here to apologize.”

“Apologize?” He laughed. “This ought to be good. What are you apologizing for, Charles?”

“I…I…” I completely froze. The tone of his voice threw me off. He had all the right to be angry and I knew exactly what he was doing. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t a clue what you are trying to say.” He frowned at me.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you.” I started shaking.

This was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.

“And what was that?”

He did this every time he wanted me to admit I did something wrong. When he wanted me to say it out loud. For me to hear it. To feel regret and to admit my mistakes.

“I slept with Rhylee.” I blurted.

There, it’s out. Can the pain in my chest stop now?

“She said that she told you.”

“That’s right, Charlie. She told me.” He said through his teeth.

“I know, it should’ve been me but I just couldn’t, Bill.” I shook my head. “I felt horrible. I still do. I feel the guilt every day for how much I’ve hurt you.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.” He bit the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes at me.

“I’m so sorry, Bill. I should never have let it happen. I should’ve just stayed in my room and do the work there. But instead, we got drunk and I just…” I completely broke down.

The tears that were gathering in my eyes finally escaped. I couldn’t hold them in any longer. I didn’t want to. I felt so bad for years and it was even worse now, standing before him.

“I just couldn’t resist her.” I sobbed. “I know that’s not an excuse. I knew how much you liked her and I did it anyway. I just don’t know what came over me and I tried to back off, I really did.”

“You did a rather poor job.” He lifted his eyebrows.

“I know. I…I don’t know what to say. I know sorry doesn’t suffice and I will do anything to make you forgive me. I know I am a terrible person and what I did to you might just be the worst thing I have ever done and I was selfish for doing it.” I couldn’t stop talking.

Everything that I piled up, I just had to tell him.

“I was only thinking of myself. She intrigued me and she was so interesting and the way she was talking about dragons got me completely mesmerized and I promised myself that I would stay away because I saw where it was going but then she stayed behind too and I went to the kitchen to work and she came down and helped me and spent so much time working on it and then I brought out the Fire Whiskey and one thing led to another and…”

I stopped myself from talking. He didn’t have to know the details of that.

“I just…I crossed the line.” I continued after he didn’t say anything.

I didn’t even dare to look at him. I couldn’t.

“I didn’t try hard enough to stop it even though I knew how much you cared about her and I feel so bad about it. Trust me, Bill. I really do. I think about what I did to you every single day. And I know I’m a coward for not coming to see you sooner. I am sorry I needed so much time. I am sorry Rhylee was the one to tell you and not me. I’m sorry I have been neglecting my family because I was avoiding you. I came home last Easter just because I knew you wouldn’t be there, for fuck’s sake. What does that say about me?” I was hardly keeping it together.

I felt dizzy and I begged my legs to hold me.

“If I could take it back, I would. I would give everything to take it back. I felt bad before we even slept together. I don’t know what got over me. She was just so different and something was pulling me closer to her. I wanted to get to know her and I felt as if I knew her for years. I…” I shook my head.

I couldn’t talk anymore. I couldn’t even breathe.

I mustered the courage and looked up at him. He was still leaning on his desk, his arms crossed over his chest, but his expression has softened.

“Just punch me in the nose. Break it. Get it over with. I know you want to and we both know I deserve it.” I wiped the tears off my face.

I had to look pathetic but I didn’t care. I just wanted to know what I can do so that he will start talking to me again. So that he will start sending me letters again and tell me all about his day and ask for my opinion on things. So that I can come and visit him and we can sit down and reminisce on our school days.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Charlie.” He breathed and pushed himself away from the desk.

He walked to me and pulled me in the tightest hug I have ever gotten from him.

What was he doing?

Didn’t he just hear everything I said?

Why was he hugging me?

I didn’t deserve his hug.

But damn did it feel good.

“I know you’re mad at me and you have all the right to be. Just tell me what I can do? Just tell me that there is hope that you’ll forgive me.” I sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, Charlie.” He sighed and tightened the grip around me. “I’m disappointed.”

I pulled away and locked eyes with him. Of course, he was disappointed. I was an idiot.

“I knew I don’t stand a chance with Rhylee the second you two started talking about dragons.” He started to explain. “It’s true. I liked her a lot but it was obvious that you charmed her the second she sat down and I don’t blame you. You didn’t do it on purpose. We can’t control attraction.”

Was that a faint smile on his face?

“And thank you for blaming yourself for what happened between you two that night. I’m glad you didn’t put the blame on her even though she was the one who made the first move.” He winked at me.

“W-what?” I wasn’t sure I understood what he was saying.

“When she told me that you slept together, she told me that I shouldn’t blame you because she came on to you.” He explained.

She said that? She really said that?

“It doesn’t matter.” I shook my head. “I could still say no and I didn’t.”

“Would you want to say no if I didn’t like her?” He asked. “That’s beside the point, Bill.”

What kind of a question was that?

“I hurt you and it doesn’t matter if she made the first move or not. I didn’t consider your feelings. I know that now. I just wish…I just…I miss you so much, Bill. I miss my big brother and my best friend.” I bowed my head.

A tear ran down my face again and I wanted to hide it. I didn’t want to cry in front of him again.

“Then what in the bloody hell took you so long to talk to me?” I looked up at his frowning expression. “What did you think I was going to do to you? Hex you?”

“You can still do it, if it’ll make you feel better.” I wanted to smile but I didn’t know if I was allowed.

“I told you that I’m not mad at you. I’m disappointed. Disappointed that you lost yourself so much in your guilt that you didn’t come to me immediately and tell me. Disappointed how you involved our whole family in this nonsense drama because you couldn’t face me. Disappointed that you thought that I would never talk to you again or whatever was going through your head.” He ruffled my hair.

I was dreaming of this moment. Thinking about it over and over. What he would say to me. How much he would shout. I imagined him punching me in the face. But none of it happened. He was so calm and so quick to accept my apology. How could he be so good?

“Did you think I stopped writing to you because I was mad at you? Because I didn’t want to talk to you?” He pushed me aside and walked over to his desk. “If you think so, then you’re delusional.”

He opened one of his desk drawers and took out what looked like a big pile of letters.

“You think I didn’t miss you? Miss talking to you? Spending time with you?” He pointed to the letters and I slowly made my way to the desk.

They were all addressed to me. There had to be more than 50 letters scattered all over the table. He wrote to me but never sent them out.

“I just wanted to push you to come and see me. To talk it out brother to brother. I didn’t know you would need 2 bloody years to do it.” He slammed a hand against his forehead.

“Family comes first, Charlie.” He said with a gentle voice. “I forgave you a long time ago, I just wish you came to me sooner and not torture yourself so much about it.”

I didn’t know what to say. He forgave me? I was left completely speechless, going through the letters. I wanted to sit down and read every single one of them.

“I just wanted to teach you a lesson.” His voice barely audible. “I wanted to let you know that what you did wasn’t right and yes you hurt me but you hurt me even more when you didn’t come and talk to me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I said under my breath.

I knew it was wrong of me for taking so much time to step forward.

“I wrote to you every time something big happened or when I really missed you.” He looked embarrassed now, picking up one of the letters. “You can take them home and read them.”

“Thank you for not sending them.” I looked up at him and he was smiling. He was actually smiling. Damn, it felt good to see him smile. “I’m sorry I took so long. I was just so confused and scared of what you’ll say to me and then it came so far and so much time passed that I just didn’t see a way out. I knew I was only making matters worse but I couldn’t bring myself to do it and…”

“Hey, stop.” He came to me and we both leaned on the desk. “It might have taken you forever but at least you’re here.” He grinned and I smiled back.

“Yeah, I think I reached a breaking point. I just came to the conclusion that I don’t care what happens to me or what you do to me if it means getting you back. I missed you so much Bill and so much has happened. Family comes first.” I nodded.

“I’m furious with myself that I forgot about that. But I know that now. It doesn’t matter how bad it is or what mistakes I make. It doesn’t matter how I feel about her or how she makes me feel. All it matters is that you and I are on speaking terms again and that you can look me in the eyes.” I took a deep breath.

I felt relief. I haven’t felt this good in a really long time.

“How you feel about her?” I turned my head at his question. “Feel as in present? Charlie, do you have feelings for her?” I felt my body going numb.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, Bill.” I shook my head.

It really doesn’t. If I could bottle my feelings for Rhylee for such a long time I can continue doing so and Bill doesn’t have to know about them.

“Yes, it does!” He raised his voice. “Look, can you stop feeling bad for what you did and just talk to me like nothing ever happened?” I blinked at him.

Was he mental? He can’t be serious? We can’t just go back as if nothing happened, can we? It can’t be that easy.

“Rhylee and I exchange a couple of letters per month. We’re still friends so I know she works with you.” He continued with a normal voice as I didn’t say anything. “I know that back then it couldn’t be anything because you barely knew each other but what is it now, Charlie?”

“It’s nothing.” I said quickly.

I wasn’t lying.

“But you have feelings for her?” I felt his eyes on me but the heat on my cheeks was too much for me to look at him.

I shook my head. I can’t talk to him about Rhylee even though that’s all I want to do.

“Charlie!” Bill raised his voice all-brotherly like.

“I’m in love with her, Bill.” I whispered, secretly hoping he couldn’t hear me. “I can’t help it.”

“And how does she feel?”

How could he be so calm?

I felt as if we were back at Hogwarts when I told him I had a crush on Emma.

“She doesn’t feel anything, Bill. She has a boyfriend.” I said coldly.

“Oh, please don’t tell me she’s still with Nick.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know about him?” I was baffled.

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “The guy’s a prick.”

Great. How am I supposed to be happy for her now? Was that why she was crying the other day when I came over? Was she crying because of him? Because if he made her cry I will…

“He works here at Gringotts. He has been on her feet, begging her to go out with him for five months.” He started. “I still don’t know why she did it. She knew she was going to leave. It was either America or Romania. She got her letter from America and at first, she said that she’s going to take the job whichever letter comes first but she waited for her letter from Romania anyway. The second she got it, she was ecstatic. I have never seen her so happy as she was that day. We went out to celebrate and I joked that she should give you a beating for me.” I sucked in a breath at his last sentence.

“She knew I wasn’t mad anymore and got over it so it’s a joke, Charlie. Relax.” He nudged me with his shoulder.

I felt relief again. I think I will need some time to realize he forgave me.

“Anyways,” he continued, “the next day she told me and Lizzie that she’s going on a date with Nick. I was taken aback. It was all very sudden and she didn’t look that excited about it. I thought that they were going to stop seeing each other when she started working at the Reserve but apparently, she’s still blind.” Bill let out a sigh.

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, really.” I shrugged my shoulders, hoping he would let it go now. “And I would rather know everything about you and Fleur.”

“Charlie…” I could see Bill’s cheeks turning red and I knew he wanted to talk about his girlfriend.

“Tell me about Fleur.” I insisted.

“Fine!” He playfully rolled his eyes. I loved how much he was enjoying this. “But just so you know, we are not done talking about you.” He pointed a finger at me and went to open one of his drawers again.

He brought out two glasses and a half-empty bottle of Fire Whiskey. How lucky was I that I got my brother back?

“You know her, you know.” He said while pouring us each a drink.

“What?” A confused look painted my face. “You remember the Triwizard Tournament? Fleur Delacour?” His face got red again, saying her name.

“Her?” I don’t think my eyes were ever so wide open. “You’re dating Fleur Delacour?”

He simply nodded. I couldn’t believe it! This was insane!

“She’s amazing, Bill! The way she handled her dragon and got the egg! Blimey!” I put down the glass he handed me and hugged him. “I am so happy for you, mate!”

I couldn’t see his face but I knew he was smiling.

“Even though she is totally out of your league.” I smirked and got punched in the shoulder for it.

It felt so good to tease him again.

“Thanks.” He couldn’t stop smiling.

He was so happy. It felt different this time. He was different about it.

“So, how did you meet?” I made a kissy face.

I will never stop! It was the best feeling ever to have fun like this with him again.

“She started working here when she finished school and immediately when we met officially I knew I have to ask her out. It was so different than it was with Rhylee. I wasn’t afraid or nervous. I just knew I had to do it. And I did and we went out for a date and then another one and another one and then I asked her to be my girlfriend and it was just so fitting.” I was staring at him, getting in every word he said.

I could listen to him all day long. He was so in love with her that it was cheesy.

I don’t think I ever saw him this happy before. His smile was reaching his ears and the color never left his cheeks since he started talking. He was absolutely adorable and I couldn’t wait to officially meet the girl that made him feel this way.

“It just felt so right and it got me thinking why did I need so long to ask Rhylee out, you know. Because with Fleur everything was so easy and it just fell into place. And it wasn’t because I knew she liked me back because I wasn’t certain if she did but there was something about her that just made me think that I can’t miss this opportunity – I can’t let her slip between my fingers and somehow I just knew that everything will be okay. I felt this connection between us that I can’t quite describe and I just knew I had to be with her.” He paused to breathe. “I know it sounds ridiculous but it’s true and now we’re together and…” He stopped as if remembering something. “…and Charlie she is so amazing.” I thought he was going to melt. “I just love her so much!”

That was obvious. I couldn’t stop smiling. Nothing made me happier than seeing him talk like this about a girl. I was so glad he was over Rhylee and that he found someone who returns his feelings and loves him as he deserves to be loved.

At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel strange. I couldn’t believe the way he described how he felt about Fleur. It was as if he was describing how I felt about Rhylee. That was it. That’s how I feel since that day we met at the Burrow.

My heart sank, knowing I will never get to have with Rhylee what he has with Fleur. I looked at Bill, smiling to himself like a drunk idiot. I smiled too. I was genuinely happy that at least one of us will get to experience how it is with the person for who you feel is made for you. I was glad it was him and not me. He deserves it more than anyone.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” Bill frowned at me.

I shook my head. I must’ve had a weird expression on my face.

“Nothing.” I smiled reassuringly. “I’m really happy for you, Bill. Words can’t express how much.” I picked up my glass, clank it against his, and gulped down what was left inside.

“Can you stop saying nothing? I’m your big brother, I know you more than anyone, now spill it!” He opened the bottle and poured me another glass.

“No. This is about you. About you and Fleur and I want you to tell me more about how cheesy you are.” I smirked.

“Look, I have another bottle in that drawer and I’m done with work for today, so I have all night to talk about just how much I’m in love.” He laughed but then his face got serious again. “Now, tell me what was that look about.”

“What you described…” I gulped. “How you felt about Fleur before you two started dating…that’s how I feel about her.”

I felt something in my chest rip again. I never said this out loud and even though it hurt, it felt good talking about it to Bill.

“That’s how you feel about her?” I turned to him and hummed in response. “Charlie, you have to tell her how you feel.”

“What?” I blinked at him.

His response caught me off guard.

He was mental! Didn’t we just go over the fact that she has a boyfriend and now he’s telling me to tell her how I feel? Where was this coming from?

“I know she’s with Nick.” He rolled his eyes. “Nobody cares about that.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “I saw the way she was eyeing you at the Burrow. I don’t know how she feels now but when she told me she slept with you I could see that it meant more to her than just a one-night stand.”

“Get off it, Bill.” I shrugged my shoulders so he pulled his hands away. “I am not breaking anybody up! Wasn’t it enough that I hurt you?” I raised my voice for no reason. “I don’t care if he’s a prick. It’s her choice and there has to be something about him that she’s willing to stay.”

“I know it’s a tough situation but just think about it. Charlie, I know how it feels when you meet the right person. I was lucky at how smoothly it went between me and Fleur. Now I understand why you couldn’t resist sleeping with Rhylee. Did you feel this from the beginning?”

I nodded. I didn’t know what to say.

“Blimey, Charlie.” He scratched his head. “I know it might seem like you lost her forever because she’s in a relationship but don’t lose hope just yet. I know you lose interest in girls if you don’t feel something special but you’re in love with her for Merlin’s sake. Don’t let go of that, Charlie.” He put his hands on my shoulders again.

“I don’t want to give you false hope but if you feel like that then I am sure she is not far behind. I know I sound insane telling you this but these type of feelings are rare and not everyone is lucky enough to find a person with whom to share it and the way she was looking at you those two days at the Burrow I would say that the feelings can’t be one-sided.” He pulled me into a hug.

How did he know that I needed one?

“You’ll be alright, Charlie.” He whispered, patted my back, and pulled away. He grabbed his glass and lifted it high in the air. “Now, how about we get hammered and talk about our feelings like we did when we were teenagers?” He laughed.

I lifted my glass and slammed it into his.

Have I mentioned how much respect I have for this man?

“Just don’t cry again, please. You might be handsome but you have an ugly crying face.” He teased and this time he was the one who got punched in the shoulder.

We were sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall in his office until the next morning. We were halfway through the other bottle of Fire Whiskey.

I don’t remember when was the last time I had so much fun with him or in general. I felt good about myself again. The guilt was gone and I had my best friend back. He told me more about Fleur and how it was like meeting her family for the first time. He told me how nervous he is to bring her home and how happy he is that I support him without even meeting her.

We made a plan for me to come back in a few weeks when I’ll be able to get time off so I could meet her. He even said that he is going to cook dinner even though it would be better if Fleur does it and I was saying that because I experienced his cooking.

I don’t even remember why we were laughing but one of us said something funny and I know we were slamming our fists against the floor, wiping tears of laughter. I don’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed. Nothing mattered more than having my brother back in my life. I felt so much better and I finally started to feel more like myself. The next thing on my list was definitely seeing my family more often.

Bill and I made a promise to never say anything to our parents or siblings about us not speaking for two years. I remember that we started talking about all his failed relationships while we were at Hogwarts and he teased me how he thought I will stay a virgin forever because all I could talk about were Dragons.

I told him about April and how my friends at the Reserve teased me all the time about her. I told him how they made me go talk to Rhylee and how I found out about her having a boyfriend. I felt relieved when I saw his reaction and I knew that I wasn’t crazy thinking she should’ve told me sooner.

I told him about all her friendly gestures and how she acts around me and he said that he is standing behind his words when he said that he thinks she feels the same way and that I should just be patient with her. I don’t know how to feel about that but who cares about all my worries now when there is still so much whiskey left to drink!

#harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.25}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.2k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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Two minutes after the elaborate goodnight wishes, the five girls were finally on their way down to the dungeons. Cas was babbling away as always, entertaining both Melissa and Lisa to the fullest, while Jorien and Robin merely listened and observed as they followed behind. The three girls up front barely made it down the spiral staircase, giggling as they were, but not even the gloomy darkness of the dungeon hallways could bring the calm and quiet of the night into their conversation as they happily chatted on and on about the many highlights of the dance. Thus it wasn't surprising when a minute later nobody took notice of Robin's quiet yelp as she was whisked away from the group in a crossing of one gloomy hallway with an even darker one.

The adrenaline in Robin's blood skyrocketed immediately, the yelp dying on her lips in a broken moment of initial surprise. Then the familiar arm around her waist and the comforting scent of home quenched every spark of fear or panic in her mind.

She found herself pressed against the cold stone wall a second later, kept in place by the weight of his body while his soft lips on her own demanded a fire she gladly returned, and every last cell in her body lit up in roaring flames as an immediate response. Her heart was bursting, drumming furiously against her ribcage while its echoes pulsed through her entire body in sheer blissful heat. Oh bloody fucking hell, this was magnificent… breathtaking, in every sense of the word. And it still was terribly dangerous, even here now in the dark. That, perhaps, was the only flaw of the moment, their one and only honest mistake.

"Are you aware that you are way too good at this?" Snape finally asked, ragged breaths brushing against Robin's skin as he leaned his forehead against hers. Upon this she smiled, but her eyes stayed closed as she found herself too overwhelmed to open them. She didn't need to; she could feel him, his presence, his warmth, his entire being…

"Really?" She finally let out a humoured and incredulous huff in reply. How could she be any good at this if she had never kissed anyone before? Was her lack of experience really not all that noticeable?

"Without a doubt. I would never allow myself to get this carried away in a school hallway of all places if you didn't enchant me beyond any measure. Beyond any reason."

"Sev-..." She was cut off by his lips, both in word and thought and she lost every string of reason that had just started to gather back together. Oh screw experience, they were way too good at this to even think of that. She must be doing something very right if he couldn't stop this madness either, couldn't resist the growing addiction.

It once again was the noise of people crossing by in a hallway close by that broke them apart, and only then Robin noticed for the first time how much it hurt to stand on one's tiptoes for an extended amount of time. For a kiss like that, she still would do it again and again any time.

"I should apologise for seizing you like that without your permission." He finally said when the retiring students' laughter and chattering had faded in the distance, then he took a step backwards to give Robin her space as well. "Who knew I could act like a dunderhead myself, given the chance."

"Oh, I knew." Robin couldn't help grinning as she stepped away from the wall, which earned her a small glare and a not-smirk. "And as much as I understand and appreciate your point, you do have my permission. Besides, where would be the point in suddenly pressing me against a wall and kissing me senseless if it came with a warning?"

Snape didn't look at her, but the corners of his lips were twitching and she could tell with utmost certainty that he was amused even though being rather flustered at the same time. It was surprisingly adorable, really, and made her wonder if he had never been in such a situation before. Well, not exactly the same situation, obviously, but still…

"I have wanted to do that for a long time now." He replied to her surprise, and his eyes were back on hers, dark and intense and every last idea of adorable was gone. Instead, his gaze made Robin shiver in delighted excitement. "But never would I have thought that it would be better than anything I was even vaguely able to imagine."

"You imagined kissing me?"

"More often than I should admit to, if I want to keep some last scraps of dignity at least."

"I've seen you lying in a muddy river before, as well as being stuck in a giant cobweb. And if that's not enough, we were just snogging in the hallways like the hormonal teenagers we scold for doing the very same. I think it's a bit too late to worry about your dignity with me." Robin chuckled, louder even when Snape rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but her heart soared when he smiled again after all. "We really should get out of the hallways though, I'm tired of fearing people might run into us. I really don't see how the danger of getting caught can be appealing to someone, for me it's just nerve-wracking."

"I could not agree more."

After taking two seconds to straighten out their appearances just in case, they made their way through the gloomy darkness side by side like they had done so often by now, with the small but significant change that the accidental touches, the brushing of hands and bumping of arms were more intentional than not this time, and both knew it to be their fullest intention as well. Robin couldn't keep the grin off her face, but she bit her bottom lip to tone it down as much as possible. She hadn't felt so much giddy excitement in one night since… well, ever really. And when they walked right past the office, then past the lab as well, a liquid lightning ran from the top of her head down her spine to her very core and every cell beyond. These new rushes were only an additional layer to the bottomless adoration and affection that had been there for years now, to the deeply rooted love she held for him, but it was a heavenly addition nonetheless. It certainly gave the term 'allconsuming' an entirely new meaning, an inevitably deeper one.

It was only when Snape stopped in the crossing of hallways that on one end led to the common room and to his rooms on the other that Robin's smile faltered. With a confused frown she didn't bother to hide she came to a halt as well, looking up at him with the question clear as night in her eyes so she wouldn't have to say the words. It was safer than admitting to being as boldly assuming as she had been… somehow she hadn't doubted that they would at least have a coffee. Like always. Or… did he need space now, with everything that had happened? After all the days and nights they had spent together, he didn't really strike Robin as the kind of person who would need space, not from her. From others, yes, always if possible, but he hadn't sent her away in years, rather on the contrary really. So-...

"I don't know if this could be considered a good idea by any means." He said in a calm tone, reluctant almost while yet he reached out for Robin's hand and pulled her closer to himself. Always the contradiction, that man…

"And why wouldn't it be a good idea?" She asked in return, calm encouragement colouring her voice now that she knew the reason for his hesitation wasn't a sudden wish for distance. Indeed, as if to prove that point, he interlaced their fingers and drew her closer the last bit in a single move of gentle elegance.

"Because if you come with me right now, I won't let you leave again until we are late for breakfast." He replied quietly and yet in that intense sincerity that had Robin's heart skipping beats while her eyes were glued to his. Gods, he really did mean it… excitement struck her like lightning, her heartbeat posed the thunder.

"I can live with that." She managed to say in a breath, her lips curving up into a smile upon the repetition of his earlier words. Then they formed a smirk as she went on. "Bold of you to assume that I'll want to leave for breakfast though."

"Oh, I've never been partial to having three meals per day anyway."

His reply made Robin laugh, then smile up at him brightly and with just a hint of tease. "It's not such a bad idea after all, huh?"

"That would depend entirely on who you ask." He quirked an eyebrow at her with a not-smirk, then walked on down the hallway with a start while keeping hold of Robin's hand. She didn't need to be not-told twice to follow, and was again walking by his side when he spoke on. "I for my part cannot complain, and I honestly don't care about any other opinion but yours beyond that."

"Complaining wouldn't help you at this point anyway, because I have recently discovered the perfect way to bribe you."

"Is that so?"

"Open the door and I'll show you." Robin replied easily but with a teasing smirk no less once they reached his rooms in the bow of the hallway.

"Don't tempt me."

"Isn't that what a temptation is supposed to do?" She quipped while her smirk broadened. "Tempt?"

"You are insufferable."

"Or perhaps tease? Allure? Seduce? Ens-..." She didn't get further when she was pulled through the now open door and into the darkness behind it, barely catching how it was thrown shut again before she found herself tightly trapped against it from the inside. The grin that wanted to form on her lips died a broken second later when she got exactly what she wanted, and yet, as always, so much more.

His lips moved against hers in hunger, returning every bit of passion she gave, and yet there wasn't a hint of roughness in the kiss, no blunt strength which would taint the blissful sensuality. In a spark of boldness or bravery, Robin traced the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip, only for him to gasp against her lips in return. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and did the same thing again, the gasp turned into a silent moan and he pulled her with him away from the door, staggering through the darkness with a baffling certainty until one unfortunate movement of his hand over the hurting spot on Robin's back made her first hiss in pain, then flinch at the intensity of it. He let go of her immediately in return, and Robin's first fathomable thought was a silent curse directed at Morgan for being the cause of what had broken apart this moment. The stupid pain in her back.

"What did I do this time?" Snape asked in honest concern as well as subtle remorse, and a second later the fireplace lit up from a wordless spell, illuminating the remainder of the room in a gentle orange golden glow. They had almost reached the sofa by now, obviously having made their way there before the pain had put a stop to their plans.

"You did absolutely nothing wrong, I promise." Robin immediately gave him a small but reassuring smile, and held onto him so he wouldn't even think about moving away. "It's just that spot on my back that's still hurting ever since Morgan touched it, it really doesn't matter. Don't worry."

"Your back simply started hurting out of nowhere upon his touch during the dance? And he didn't speak a word?" Snape still inquired further, in lingering concern but quite obviously more at ease now that he knew it wasn't his doing that had hurt her at least. Robin had to smile at his sheer inability not to worry about her; it made her heart soar in warmth and adoration all the more. And seeing as he wouldn't stop asking, now that she had brought the mysterious pain to his attention, they might just have to deal with it right now.

"Not a word that was a spell, at least… and yes, he just traced his fingers over my back and that caused a strong stinging and burning that faded a moment later though. Now it hurts whenever someone even comes close to touching it. That's why I flinched so stupidly." She shrugged with a half smile. "Sorry for that."

"Don't apologise for what clearly isn't your fault. I should curse Morgan into oblivion for hurting you right in this instant… but I would rather take your pain away if I can." Snape sighed, then paused for a moment, lost in thought, before he finally spoke up again. "Did it hurt when your back hit the wall? Or the door? Or is it just a hand's touch that hurts?"

The question made Robin frown to herself; she hadn't considered that. The answer she came up with for herself then rendered her frown even deeper. "I believe it's just an actual human touch that causes me pain. It didn't hurt at all when I leaned against whatever surface, and neither does the dress make it sore or anything like that… But you and the girls could hurt me quite a bit by just touching any spot on my back. What does that mean?"

"I have a vague idea." He grumbled to himself at the thought of it, and Robin understood the sentiment only too well in this regard. "Can you touch it without pain?"

"I can try…" She mused and did just that, but even though she only barely could reach the spot with the back of her fingers when she twisted her arm enough, there should have been at least a little sting. But no, nothing, no pain at all. She frowned to herself again. "That's weird. I can't even precisely tell you where it is when it doesn't hurt… and I can touch it without pain. Perhaps it's nothing."

"Magical wounds should not be taken lightly, especially if inflicted by someone as irresponsible as Morgan. We should take you to the hospital wing."

"Or you could look at it here." Robin suggested easily, shrugging with one shoulder as she observed his reluctant but not averse expression. "You know more about the situation with Morgan, about what happened tonight and about me than anyone in the infirmary. I really don't mean to doubt their abilities at all, but I think if it's a magical thing of more or less unknown origin, it falls more into the dark arts anyway, which precisely is the point where I would prefer you to look at it. Who knows, maybe it really is nothing and we're through with it in two minutes… we could save ourselves the time of way. I have other plans for tonight than sitting around the infirmary with a bunch of punch-drunk students."

"Do you?" He couldn't help the smirk on his lips upon that, even though it was clear that he was trying to fight the short lived amusement due to the otherwise serious situation. At least it wasn't serious enough to warrant the complete absence of humour on his end, so that was a relief at least.

"Yeah, actually. I was hoping for a drink and the continuation of where we were interrupted, but I'm still open for further suggestions." She smiled up at him and he rolled his eyes, but the amusement stayed nonetheless, which sufficed to give Robin some more courage. They'd be through with this in no time, they always had been when she'd been injured. "Do you happen to know a spell to undo a million tiny buttons? I haven't found one yet, but if anyone knows such a thing, it would have to be you."

He let out an amused huff, then quirked an eyebrow at Robin. "I believe if there was such a spell, I would have discovered it by now. Every time I tried to invent one myself however, it led to the destruction of the garment rather than the desired result. Therefore I unfortunately have to disappoint you. Why do you ask?"

"Because it would have spared you work." She chuckled, somewhere between humour and embarrassment, the latter of which however she strongly tried to reason against. He'd seen her in various stages of undress over time, and it had never been a big deal. Or had it? Would he think differently of it now than he had over summer? Gods, why was she nervous now?! It wasn't even the kind of situation where she should be nervous, they were just trying to make sure that her back was alright, for heaven's sake! And she still stood with her point that she would rather have Snape looking at her injuries than anyone else, even in complete disregard to the most recent developments between them. This had nothing to do with that, it was just a coincidence. An oddly fitting one, going by the line of events.

Robin resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at herself and her antics and merely turned around so that her back was right in front of him, making an obvious point of what she wanted him to do. This wasn't a movie; plots didn't just fall into place like that. Two things could happen without any obvious correlation between them. She sighed, then focused on the task at hand. "Perhaps I should've worn a dress with a zipper like everyone else, huh? Then again, I wasn't really expecting anyone having to undress me tonight."

She didn't need to look at him to know that he was hesitating, and if she was honest, she couldn't really blame him. Truth was that things were different now, or could be different now, and it was uncharted territory for both of them. Either of them was uncertain what to make of it, afraid to make a wrong move. At least it brought some peace and relief to her mind that he obviously was just as insecure as she was in this new and yet so very familiar moment of innocent intimacy. Even though things like this had happened in the plenty over summer already.

"We're just looking at my back for the damage Morgan did yet again… Just like the times he dislocated my shoulder, or cut open my hand, or-... well, you know what I mean. You've seen me torn up and bloody before, and we've always taken care of it. And I know for a fact that your hands aren't cold, so there really is nothing to worry about, right?" She said in a calm, almost soothing voice, both to him and herself, and contrary to what she had thought, it actually caused an overwhelming wave of ease and comfort to wash over her when he finally started with the first button in the back of her neck. When his fingers brushed against her skin however, her breathing hitched nonetheless while goosebumps covered her skin within a broken second. Perhaps this wasn't entirely like it had been over summer… But comfort and excitement were what it caused yet again, and that really seemed to be a reoccurring theme with them. Their own perfect ambivalence. Home and adventure at once.

It didn't take long at all until the buttons were open down to her waist, just far enough so she could slip the spiky and stiff shoulder parts off her arms, which left her to clutch the front of her dress to her chest quite a bit more tightly than necessary. Robin blamed the neckline of her dress for making her forsake any kind of bralette… It left her upper body entirely bare now, and that in return was the reason why she was clutching the front of the dress to her chest. But then again, she didn't really mind it too much if she was being honest with herself. Having an excuse to show some skin… forcing her to be bolder than she was… it really was terribly exciting for some stupid reason. A lucky coincidence, even if a bit poorly timed. Most of all however, Robin liked the reaction she was getting from the man behind her, judged by the fact that his heartbeat had doubled in speed by the time her back was exposed to him almost entirely. There it was again, that overwhelming excitement that came with the power she seemed to have over him… the knowledge that her mere being did such things to him. But they were just looking at her back for the spellwork done on her, and she gave herself a mental slap to stop pondering how they could go on from there. Unrelated situations, and all that…

"So… how does it look?" She finally asked in a surprising calmness, considering that her every sense was heightened to the extreme. Gods, she wanted him to touch her skin again, even if it would hurt… No, bad thought, bad Robin! There was work to do, and she was getting distracted!

"Like three hand-length cuts that seem to have scarred. Did you ever notice those before? They look far older than just a few hours." He mused in return, then carefully pulled Robin closer to the fireplace by her elbow. She didn't resist and merely walked backwards blindly until she was in the direct light of the fire, and thereby also in the reach of its warmth. He stopped her there, and for a moment she wondered if he needed the light or if he had just noticed the goosebumps on her skin. Duh, obviously he had… they were hard to miss, even if they weren't at all caused by the cold. Either way, his hand lingered on her arm, and that was even more welcome than the fire's warmth.

"Actual scars? I don't think I've had them before, no. And truth be told, you probably would've seen them before if they had been there for longer." She finally remembered to reply, then frowned to herself. "And in addition to that, I can't remember ever getting severely injured on the back. Other than the thing with the bludger in fifth year, that is… I never really knew exactly how badly I hurt myself there, and I never dared to ask."

"Badly enough to have me terrified of your impending death."

"Oops…" She breathed rather lamely, then chuckled to herself almost apologetically. "I guess passing out in the infirmary right in front of your eyes didn't help much with that."

"No. Neither did it prepare me for the instance last summer where you actually came close to death when you passed out on my doorstep." He said in a sigh, then the hand on Robin's arm vanished as he spoke on. "Let us ensure that it won't happen again and find out what that pest of a man did to you this time. Tell me when the pain becomes noticeable, yes?"

Robin only hummed in agreement, and jumped a second later when he placed a hand on her shoulder this time, in a gentle touch that had her melting right on the spot. Slowly and with just enough pressure to be noticeable at all, his fingers danced across her skin, down to her shoulder blade and over her spine, tracing three lines at last with a bit more pressure. Robin had to bite her lip to keep in both a sigh of bliss and a whimper of pain. For some odd reason these two were currently very hard to tell apart in that they both caused an echo of his touch, a heat pulsing through her in the rhythm of her heartbeat.

"Didn't that hurt at all?" He asked with a frown practically ingrained in his tone, as well as confusion in the plenty, and Robin had to call defeat to circumstance.

"Oh. Yes, it did. Sorry, I really should have said something." She admitted in a quiet voice, then got a grasp of herself and continued on a little louder. "But I didn't want you to stop, so I kind of… forgot speech over the overwhelming feeling of having your touch on my back at all."

"You do make it very difficult for me to focus on the problem at hand when you say things like that."

His words brought a smile to Robin's face as it suddenly eradicated the nervousness, and she was only glad that he couldn't see it. "I'm sorry."

"You're not."

"True, I'm not." She couldn't help chuckling at her own half-hearted attempt to fool him, and even more at his trenchant ability to see right through her. "But I'll try to focus on the problem now instead of how amazing your hands feel on my skin."

"Robin…" He warned her quietly, but she could still hear the smirk in his voice, and that's when she couldn't help laughing.

"It's really not my fault!" She protested, and almost would've dropped her arms in a grand gesture if she hadn't remembered just why she was holding her dress in place in the very last second. This entire situation was as ridiculous as it was dangerous as it was wonderful. "You try focusing on anything beyond the tingles when your entire body is a goddamn wildfire!"

"I am trying right now, and you're not making it any easier. The sight of you alone is distracting enough."

"Just that little bit of skin is supposedly doing to you what your touch does to me? Sorry, but I sincerely doubt it."

"You shouldn't." He replied entirely seriously now, and the mere tone of his voice was enough to make Robin shiver again. "It does not take naked skin or fancy gowns for me to think of you as far more than simply ‘delectable’. You are nothing short of the most breathtaking creature I have ever been blessed to see, to stay with the trivial matter of physical appearance for once. But indeed, while I could not care less for others' looks and garments, you never fail to enchant me entirely with any of yours, and seeing as I have previously not had the opportunity to see quite so much of your skin, it does affect me quite strongly now at long last."

Robin's heart skipped a beat, then set into a steady gallop that made it delightfully hard to breathe. But for some reason, the words on her lips did not care for that at all. "You make it very difficult for me to focus on the problem at hand when you say things like that." She mirrored his statement, smiling to herself at the thought. "But do you actually mean it or are you just trying to get revenge on me by equal terms?"

"Both, obviously, but the latter is rather a lucky side effect of the former. And since we are discussing it already, you can call me blind if you will, but I do actually find your hair very attractive on any day, especially because it is a perfect mess." He answered easily, while his fingers continued to trace irregular patterns over the injured part of her back that seemed to hurt more and more by the minute. "Even though I very much appreciate the recent absence of the pineapple scent."

Robin found that she didn't mind the pain, especially not when his reference to her words from earlier this evening as well as the dreaded pineapple made her laugh, and the knowledge that he did, in fact, mean all of those things he'd said made her skin tingle pleasantly. He never made shallow compliments; when he deliberately said something nice for once, one could be sure that he meant it to the fullest.

"I think that might be among the loveliest things you have ever said to me." She smiled after a moment, when her soaring heart would let her speak up through the haze of emotions. "Directly said to me, that is. You say a lot of nice things when you don't mean to."

"Don't get used to it. What a crazy world would we be living in if I started saying nice things regularly now… It would entirely destroy the efficiency and purpose of my compliments." He scoffed in obvious sarcasm and tease, while placing his second hand on her shoulder to keep her in place for whatever he was doing.

"You're an idiot, Sev-..." Robin's words and laughter were cut off with a start when Snape placed his other hand directly on the hurting spot on her back, with quite a bit more pressure than before. It caused a pain far too strong for any measure to ripple through her every sense, and a well of tears to spring to her eyes in return. "Ouch! God damn and bloody hell…"

"I might be an idiot, but an idiot who can focus far better when we banter as usual. That seems to have become somewhat of a precondition for me to be able to work efficiently." He returned, then removed his hands from her entirely before he spoke on in a much more tainted tone. "I apologise for having to hurt you, but in order to undo the spell before it became even more dangerous, that unfortunately was inevitable. Now however, the pain should be gone once and for all in just a moment."

"Wait, you… you know what Morgan did to me and just… undid it like that?" Robin turned around to face him with a deep frown creasing her brows in an instant. "Is that what you were doing while we talked?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't bother telling me?! At least a little warning, perhaps?"

"I had the choice between distracting you by making you laugh and thereby forget about the pain I was unfortunately causing in the process, or to further said pain even more by talking about Morgan and his vile doings." He replied so easily that it made perfect sense now, that it appeared to be the most obvious solution ever. "As you see, it wasn't even a choice to be made."

"Thank you. That… was a really clever thing to do, actually." Robin sighed and gave him a soft smile, then took a moment to appreciate how the shadows of the flames danced across his skin before she spoke on. "So… no more pain for now?"

"Not as far as I can tell, at least."

"Let's find out for sure then, shall we?"

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[jalapeno-princess]

What If I Told You I Loved You?

College boyfriend Mark X Reader

Genre: Extremely adorable fluff (some mature themes, mentions of sex, alcohol and curse words)

Word Count: 7.1K

Summary: Saying I love you to one another for the first time.

You are the one girl And you know that it's true I'm feeling younger Every time that I'm alone with you

We were sitting in a parked car Stealing kisses in the front yard We got questions we should not ask but

How would you feel, if I told you I loved you? It's just something that I want to do I'll be taking my time, spending my life Falling deeper in love with you So tell me that you love me too

“Right there is the Big Dipper and if you look closely, just a few feet away is the Little Dipper and that is Orion’s Belt. See?” 

“Babe, it all just looks like a clump of shining dots to me. But keep going, hearing you go in to depth about constellations is so fucking adorable.” 

You and your boyfriend Mark were currently on the roof of your best friend BamBam’s house, looking up at the stars and basking in each other’s presence. It was your mutual friend Jackson’s birthday and BamBam decided to throw him a surprise party while his parents were away on a business trip. 

The night started off pretty great; everyone seemed to be having a good time drinking, playing games and dancing along to Yugyeom’s unique playlist. However, you weren’t one to really care for big crowds and being around people you didn’t know. Therefore, Mark suggested the two of you get away for a little while so you could have a short breather and he could have you all to himself. That’s how the two of you found yourselves on the roof with you sitting on his lap and his arms wrapped gently around your waist. 

If Mark had a choice, both you and him would’ve stayed at his place lazing around all day until he’d find himself with his head between your thighs as some kind of murder mystery documentary played in the background but no; here you were at a party where everyone seemed to be either drunk, high, horny or all three and your boyfriend wanted nothing more than to go home with you. 

Unfortunately, Jackson was very adamant that you and Mark stayed until the end so he could “make memories with his two best friends on his 23rd birthday” but deep down you knew he wanted as much help as he could get cleaning up once everyone was gone. 

“Well, your eye sight was never all that great so that’s understandable. Give me your finger, we’ll outline the sky and maybe you’ll be able to actually identify the constellation on your own.” You could feel the vibration against your back as he let out a giggle and when you turned around to face him to see why he was laughing, he gave you a knowing look.

“I can think of a better thing to do with my fingers if you’d let me—ow! What? It’s your fault, I’ve been fucking hard this entire party because of how devastatingly sexy you look. Hell, I almost called BamBam and told him we couldn’t make it once I saw you walk out in this tight ass skirt and this blouse that leaves little to the imagination babe. Oooh, why don’t we try out roof sex it sounds kinky and pretty romantic. I could fuck you doggy while we continue our star gazing and have you bounce on this dick as the wind blows in your hair—you’re no fun.” He began to rub the part of his shoulder where you playfully shoved him before giving you his finger. 

“That is Virgo; your zodiac sign and it’s located right next to Saturn, that is Corvus and right next to it is crater. That right there is Venus and Uranus—“

“No, your anus is right here and I’m trying to make my way in it—will you stop hitting me?” 

He pulled away his hand and mischievously brought his lips right under your sweet spot and began to suck and nibble on the skin earning himself a breathy moan. Mark was always quite the troublemaker and knew exactly what to do to drive you insane. The two of you have been dating for almost five months and it’ has been some of the best months of your entire life because of him. 

He was quite the gentleman; he always opened doors for you, told the lamest jokes that never failed to make you laugh, prepared lunches for you, always did whatever you asked of him without complaining and tried his best to make you happy. When you told him he was your first actual boyfriend, he tried to take things slow in fear of scaring you away but you were totally fine with going at whatever pace he was comfortable with. 

Being your first relationship, you were afraid of messing up, making mistakes and causing unnecessary arguments because of your naivety but Mark never gave you a reason to worry about your relationship and he made sure you were comfortable with anything and everything the two of you did. Sometimes you’d find yourself staring in to space and thinking about how lucky you were to have someone like him; someone so golden hearted, caring, free-spirited and charismatic as he was to call your significant other. 

He never failed to make you feel as if you were the only girl in the world on a daily basis and although you’ve haven’t been dating for too long, deep down you knew you wanted Mark for as long as you could have him for.

“Mmm—Mark—no—not here.” He released a frustrated sigh before complying and pulled away causing you to whine. It’s not like you didn’t want to give him what he wanted. You knew how much of a horndog Mark was and he made it known just how much he thought you were the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on both physically and verbally almost every single day and you craved him just as much as he did you. But the two of you weren’t in a place where you could relish in your love together. 

“Why not? It’s not like we haven’t had sex here before. I still dream about taking you up against BamBam’s parent’s dresser and watching myself fuck you through their ceiling mirror—“

“That’s exactly why we can’t do it here dumbass. Youngjae is still scarred from walking in on us that one time and it’s been three months. The party’s almost over and I promise once we help clean up I’m all yours. You can do whatever you want with me once we return to your place. Now, back to the constellations.” 

Although your back was facing him, feeling him smile against your jaw made your cheeks warm. From past experiences where Mark was in charge, you knew he wasn’t going to go easy on you. Especially because he had to wait to make love to you, but it made it all the more exciting. You continued pointing out the different constellations for another fifteen minutes until a question you’ve been wanting to ask Mark popped up in your mind. 

“Hey babe, is there any questions you might have and are curious to know the answer to but are afraid of hearing the reaction for?” You knew with the way his grip on your waist loosened and the short breath he released against your neck that he was actually thinking about what you asked him. 

“Hmmm—actually yeah. How can my feet smell if they don’t have a nose?” 

The laugh that fell from your lips was expected; Mark in more or less words was hilarious. It may not seem that way because he was so quiet and quite the introvert to those who didn’t know him all that well, but to you and your group of friends, he had a pretty good sense of humor. It’s one of the many reasons why you fell for him in the first place. 

“God that was terrible, you’re such a loser.” He playfully rolled his eyes before stealing a chaste kiss from the corner of your mouth. 

“Whatever. I’m your loser. In all seriousness though, no. I don’t think I do. How come? Is there something wrong?” 

Yes, I’m in love with you and I want to know if you feel the same about me but I’m too afraid to ask how you feel without embarrassing myself if you don’t feel the same just yet. 

Since you weren’t too sure how relationships really worked, you didn’t know when to drop the L word to Mark even if you knew you did in fact love him. You found yourself falling in love with him just a month after starting your relationship and as much as you wanted to let him know about your feelings, you felt like it was too early in your relationship for that kind of confession. Plus, it’s been months. If he loved you, wouldn’t he have said so already? 

Maybe he was afraid of things getting complicated once the word love was thrown in there but you knew you loved him; with every bone in your body. Your heart was begging you to get it off your chest and you were in a constant battle with your heart and your mind about what you should do. But like he did with almost every aspect of your relationship, you wanted Mark to be the one to tell you he loved you first. 

“No no. Nothing. It’s nothing. I was just curious. My mom asked me something the other day and I couldn’t help but to think about some questions I have that I’m afraid to learn the answers to. It’s a bunch of school related questions, so you have nothing to worry about. Should we start heading back inside now?” 

He gave you the most adorable pout before nodding his head slowly in agreement. As soon as you began making your way back in to the house through BamBam’s window, both you and Mark tried your best to sneakily head back in to the living room without anyone noticing your absences, but knowing how your friends could be, it was too much to ask for. 

“So that’s where the two of you ran off to! I told Yugyeom your horny asses would find a place to fuck—ow! Control your woman Tuan I was just stating the facts. Jinyoung owes me $20.” Your boyfriend gave Jackson a scowl before rolling his eyes. 

“What are you even doing in here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating your own party downstairs?” The birthday boy shook his head before motioning the two of you to follow him. It was obvious with the way he was clumsily walking that he was either borderline drunk or just a bit tipsy. Jackson had a tendency of drinking a little too much at parties like these and it was no different seeing as how it was his celebration. 

“I was sent to look for you two. Nobody could find you for the last hour and Jinyoung claimed the two of you probably bolted but I know you’d never do that to me on my birthday right Markie boy? Or at least I know y/n wouldn’t because she’s a good friend—although, you do hit like a professional. Mark must really like how rough you are—ow! The apple never falls far from the tree you two are perfect for each other.” 

You turned to look up at your boyfriend and smiled softly when you saw him already grinning at you. Mark’s hand absentmindedly found yours and he intertwined your fingers before bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss behind it. Once the three of you made it back to where everyone was and saw that the party had died down, you grew excited at the idea of finally leaving and having your boyfriend all to yourself in the privacy of his apartment. 

“There you two are. You guys missed so much—although by the look on Jackson’s face I wouldn’t be surprised if you were having your own little party up in one of the rooms.” BamBam wiggled his brows playfully at you and Mark but the two of you paid no mind. Your friends never failed to crack jokes whenever it came down to your relationship but you knew it was all in good fun. 

“Yeah yeah—whatever. Can we just hurry up and finish this party already I’d like to go back to my apartment with y/n and actually have a celebration of our own—ow babe what was that for? They already assumed we had sex so there’s no point in hiding our plans for later.” 

This earned him another elbow to his side as the six other boy’s laughter filled the kitchen. The rest of the night was spent playing silly games that Jackson set up that had a lot to do with how much everyone knew him. For every wrong answer, everyone had to take a shot; but because your boyfriend, Jinyoung and Yugyeom were the designated drivers, they had to sit this game out. Although you considered Jackson to be a close friend of yours, you didn’t think you knew as much about him as Mark probably did. 

You tried to get out of having to play, but the birthday boy insisted it was just for fun. Knowing how much of a lightweight you were, your boyfriend should’ve tried harder in coming up with an excuse to get Jackson off of your back, but it was too late. Only twenty minutes in to the game, you took at least five shots of tequila and Mark could tell just by the flush on your cheeks that you were tipsy; or at least on the verge of inebriation. 

“Hey guys, I think it’s time y/n and I head out. Only your dumbasses could get her drunk in less than half an hour. Don’t give me that look Jacks, if you didn’t force her to play, maybe we would stay longer. How the hell would she have known about the birthmark on your ass? Or that you accidentally shaved your eyebrow once because you were high? She needs to go to bed. I can already tell she’s gonna have a hangover in the morning—“

“This is just your excuse so y’all can finally fuck. Fine, go ahead. The two of you owe me one. Get home safely.”

Mark motioned for Yugyeom to pick you up from off of Mark’s lap so that he could get up himself. He released a soft sigh as he took you back from the younger boy and began saying his goodbyes to the rest of the guys. As soon as the two of you made it out to his car, he tried his best in opening the passenger door and placed you down as gently as he possibly could. 

So much for wild and kinky sex. 

After making sure you were buckled and sitting in a comfortable position, he got in to the driver’s side and got himself settled before reaching over to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. He decided to turn on some music to help keep himself awake and began the twenty minute drive back to his place. From the few times he’s witnessed you getting drunk, Mark had a huge feeling you were going to be hungover tomorrow morning and he wanted to be able to take care of you. 

At a few stoplights, he couldn’t help himself and stole a few chaste kisses from your cheeks; he even caught himself gazing at you in admiration a little too long and didn’t realize the light changed until the car behind him pressed on their horn. When he continued to drive, Mark could’ve sworn he heard you mumble. He decided to let it go, you were obviously dreaming and it humored him that you were still so talkative even while you were asleep. There was a point, where your mumbling turned in to actual sentences that he couldn’t really make out as to what you were saying.

 “BamBam—you’re a liar.” He giggled softly to himself at your sudden assertion. What exactly were you dreaming about that brought a frown upon your face? And what exactly did BamBam lie about? 

“Y/n, what are you talking about?” You released a frustrated sigh which Mark found extremely adorable before turning to face the window. “You told me—you said that Mark loves me—but—he hasn’t told me himself. Why would you lie Bam? You know how I feel about him and it’s not—funny—“ 

If he wasn’t driving right now, and if you weren’t so drunk, he would’ve had you go in to further detail about what you were saying. Mark knew for a fact that you were probably sleep talking, or maybe you woke up but your mind wasn’t all completely there. There was a pain in his chest hearing you sound so upset over the fact that he had yet to tell you that he loved you. God—love couldn’t even describe what the older boy felt for you. 

The warm feeling Mark would get in his chest every time he kissed you, talked to you, held you or even just thought about you; the way he always needed to be around you, how his heart always craved to be in your presence—he knew he loved you the moment he started caring about your well-being and if he was being honest, it didn’t take him very long to realize that he harbored these very strong feelings for you. Every time you laughed at one of his cheesy jokes, or when he’d observe the way you looked at your food as if it was the most beautiful object on this earth; the way he always seemed to look at you, he knew his heart belonged to you. 

For weeks, the guys have been pestering him to “grow some balls” as Jackson never failed to remind him and admit his true feelings for you. It’s not that Mark didn’t want you knowing that he loved and was in love with you. As soon as he came to accept those feelings, he wanted nothing more than to tell you so that you were aware of what you meant to him. The only things stopping him from being completely honest with you was the fear of scaring you away, and the idea that you didn’t reciprocate his same feelings just yet. 

Mark knew you had yet to really understand what love was, but even if you didn’t love him, he knew you must’ve really cared about him just by the way you would look after him and take care of him like it was all you ever really wanted to do. Caring about Mark’s safety and well-being what’s what he considered to be your love language. You made it an every day routine to ask him how his day was and if he was eating all his meals on time. No matter what you were doing; even if you were in the middle of class or busy at work, you wanted to make sure Mark was okay. 

You would head over to his place to help him do his laundry every so often because God only knows the boy has no clue of what he’s doing when it comes to washing his clothes. Some nights, you would stay up on the phone with him and console him if he had a rough day. Other nights, while he would be in the middle of playing video games, he would FaceTime you just because something about having you there even if he wasn’t interacting with you made his heart extremely happy. 

You made his heart extremely happy. 

There were multiple occasions where the four letter word would almost fall from his lips, hell—he almost let it slip earlier while he was looking at you in awe of your beauty as you rambled on about the big and Little Dipper. If it was anyone else going in to depth about something that Mark couldn’t care less about, he would’ve just allowed their words to go through one ear and out the other. However, because it was you, Mark was sure you could tell him the history of the Pillsbury dough boy and he would listen to each and every single word as it fell from your pretty pink lips he adored so much. 

Everything you did just exhilarated him; he thought the entire world of you and although the two of you have only been together for a couple of months, he knew you were the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Whenever the word soulmates was brought up in to discussion, his mind always lingered to you. Well, it really didn’t matter what the topic was, Mark would always think about you. It was something his friends quickly picked up on. 

They could be talking about giraffes, and Mark would bring up the time he took you to the zoo a couple of weeks ago because you haven’t been there since you were a little girl. He talked more about how adorable you were as you ran through the park, pulling him towards each and every exhibit with so much excitement. BamBam joked around about how Mark talked about you with so much stars in his eyes and how he looked at you as if the sun shines out of your ass. He mentally cursed his mischievous friend for confessing his feelings for him, but at the same time he made a mental note to thank him. Mark knew he wouldn’t have been able to confess his love for you otherwise. 

Sure, he could easily compliment you on your beauty—and he never failed to tell you how he was extremely grateful to have you in his life; but telling you that he was madly in love with you and that he dreamt about starting a family with you every other day. It was already out there—there was no use in hiding what he felt for you any longer. Once he were to tell you what he’s been wanting to for months now, he felt like it would only bring the two of you closer as a couple if that were even possible. 

As soon as he parked in to his stall and turned off the car, he carefully pulled you out of your seat and threw your bag over his shoulder before carrying you bridal style up to his unit. He smiled softly to himself when your body molded with his perfectly; you placed your face against his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck as if you were sober and knew exactly what you were doing. It didn’t take him much effort to get you inside, he just really didn’t want to wake you. A sigh of relief immediately fell from his lips once he unlocked the door and began making the trek to his bedroom. 

Gently, he placed you down on your side of his bed and placed a kiss on your temple before preparing some things to help you get ready for bed. He grabbed one of his shirts and tossed it on the bed while walking in to his bathroom to get you a makeup wipe. Seeing your side of the sink with all your cosmetics and facial care made him grin like an idiot. Mark wasn’t able to put his finger on it, but something about seeing all your things in his place made his heart soar. 

Could it be because it made him feel as if you lived together and the idea of living with you and waking up next to you in his arms was something Mark has been wanting since the first night you slept over? He made sure to set aside a water bottle and some pain killers for when you were to wake up in the morning and walked back in to the room. If you didn’t tell him before you guys left for the party that you were wearing makeup, your boyfriend would’ve just assumed that you weren’t even wearing any at all. You were naturally beautiful. He had a hard time believing you actually existed sometimes and that you weren’t a figment of his imagination that he created because he was lonely. 

Before you, Mark’s love life was sub-par; he only had two girlfriends before you and honestly, neither of his relationships could compare to what you and Mark shared. He wasn’t aware of it then, but in the beginning of your relationship; even after only two weeks of dating, the feelings he harbored for you were stronger than what he felt for his two ex-girlfriends through their entire relationships. You were the one who showed Mark what love was. You made him fall deeply and irrevocably in love with you and he had no intention on getting up—ever. 

He spent a couple of moments admiring your beauty; bringing his fingers and tracing your features ever so gently. All he wanted to do was kiss you senseless and show you just how much he loved you through his actions rather than his words. Anybody could tell you they loved you; but if someone truly cares about you and wants you to actually feel their love, they would show it with different gestures. That’s exactly what he was planning to do for you in the morning. Your boyfriend could already tell you weren’t going to feel all that well in the morning; not only did you consume quite a bit of alcohol, but you and tequila were never a good pair. 

Why did you think it was a good idea to take so many shots of patron? He playfully shook his head at the idea of how much of a pushover you were when it came to his friends. Although Mark found it extremely cute that you got along with all of his friends so well, he didn’t like how they would take advantage of your kindness and generosity. It was mainly Jackson, BamBam and Yugyeom who would coerce you in to doing things that would drive Mark insane; especially because he knew you could never say no to them no matter how crazy their requests could get. He began to take off your clothes in order to change you in to his shirt and sighed frustratingly when he saw your choice in underwear—or lingerie rather. You were honestly going to be the death of him. 

He mentally cursed his friends for being such cockblockers. If only you allowed him to take you on the roof, he wouldn’t have the idea of kicking all his friends asses replaying over and over in his mind. To Mark, you were the most beautiful girl he has ever had the honor of laying his eyes on; but when you would wear such tight dresses that hugged every single one of your curves and very tiny pieces of lingerie, you would drive him to the brink of insanity. He was not going to let you get away with this; once you were sober, he was going to make you pay for having him suffer with an extremely painful erection. He placed gentle kisses along your chest, down to your navel and forced himself to stop before things could escalate. Mark had a very hard time controlling yourself around you. 

It didn’t even matter what you were wearing. You could be wearing a pair of sweats and one of his t-shirts and he would have to fight the urge of wanting to take you right then and there; no matter where the two of you were or who you were with. Right after he put his shirt on your exhausted and obviously inebriated frame, he began to take his clothes off and quickly joined you in bed. He made his way behind you and pulled you tightly against his bare chest while leaving soft, fleeting kisses on the back of your neck. 

“My silly girl, I love you in ways I never thought were possible before. God—I love you so, so much y/n.” 

Before Mark knew it, sleep was finally taking over him and his face absentmindedly gravitated towards the crook of your neck as his arms were wrapped protectively around your waist. When you woke up the next morning, you felt as if your head was about to burst with all the throbbing going on. How did you let both Jackson and BamBam trick you in to drinking so much? Why didn’t you just speak up and say you no longer wanted to play along? You were now regretting every alcoholic beverage you consumed the night before. In order to try and soothe your migraine, you allowed yourself to stay in bed for a couple of minutes. 

The tight grip on your waist and the warmth of Mark’s chest pressed right against your back made your cheeks warm. Slowly, in attempts not to wake him, you turned around to face him and smiled when you noticed he was still sleeping. You couldn’t help yourself; it was only natural for you to want to kiss him even if he was sleeping. Before you and Mark started dating, you’d be lying if you were to say you didn’t wonder what it would feel like to be able to kiss those soft, heart shaped lips of his and when he kissed you right after your third date, you knew you needed to kiss him every time you had the chance to. 

His kisses were very gentle and modest in the beginning of your relationship, but when you told him it was okay to take things further—he didn’t waste a second before going completely all in. With every single kiss the two of you shared, no matter how passionate and sensual or simple yet sweet it could be, his kisses never failed to set your entire body in flames. You cupped both his cheeks with your hands and started to leave feather like kisses all around his face; you knew he took care of you before allowing you to completely get comfortable in bed. It was the little things like that; all his sacrifices and just him going the extra mile for you that made you question what exactly he felt about you. 

BamBam told you a couple of weeks ago while you both went to get coffee after class one day that he’s never seen Mark so happy before and that the two of you were perfect for each other. In the back of the cozy little coffee shop, that’s when he told you his older friend was dead over heels in love with you. You were quick to roll your eyes and even threw your croissant at him for messing around with you, but he actually looked sincere for the first time in the five months that you’ve know him for. What good would it do for him to lie about such a thing? You were sure BamBam was well aware that Mark was capable of kicking his ass if he ever, were to butt in to your relationship at all. 

Mark’s friends; no matter how much he loved them and considered all six of them to be his family, he could do without any of them being involved in anything the two of did or controlled your relationship. You were too busy admiring your boyfriend’s devastatingly charming good looks to notice that he was now wide awake and it didn’t occur to you until you felt his hands grip at your waist. 

“With all this staring babe, I’m assuming you’re not feeling all that bad.” 

Although his voice startled you and you were annoyed that he scared you, you couldn’t help but smile up at him and the way he was looking at you so adoringly. He brought some of your hair behind your ear and placed a gentle kiss on your nose. This was probably only the fifth time you’ve slept over Mark’s apartment since your relationship started—so it was only natural for your heart to feel as if it was about ready to leap out of your chest. 

Waking up next to him was something you would never admit out loud, but it was something you wanted to happen more often. Being in his warm embrace as he soothingly drew circles along your back was comforting. You wished you could savor this moment just a little while longer, but the throbbing pain in your head felt otherwise. When Mark felt you try to pull yourself from out of his arms, his brows furrowed in disappointment until he saw your adorable little pout he took no time in growing fond of over the last few months. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.” 

He was quick to get up from his place in bed as soon as you confirmed that yes—you weren’t feeling all that bad; you were feeling terrible. Mark was the “I told you so” kind of guy. He told you not to get involved in Jackson and BamBam’s antics knowing very well where it would lead. But now that he was rubbing your back as you released everything you consumed last night in to the toilet, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel even worse than you already were. Hearing you throw up and watching you heave made his stomach sore—if there was anything Mark hated more than studying and being stuck in traffic, it was seeing you not feeling too well. 

There was one time you caught a cold and he stayed with you the entire week at your apartment, nursing you back to health in any way that he could. This was the first time after any drunken stupor of yours that the hangover was this bad. As soon as you rid yourself of any toxicities from your body, you stood up and walked over to the sink, brushing your teeth and rinsing your mouth with mouthwash in attempts to feel a little more cleansed and refreshed. Mark allowed you some time to come to your senses before handing you the water bottle and aspirin he prepared for you the night before. You politely thanked him and turned around to face him—leisurely wrapping your arms around his nape and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

“I’m so sorry for making you take care of me—“ he gave you a knowing look and pressed his finger against your lips in order to silence you. 

“You’re my girlfriend baby, it’s my duty to take care of you. Don’t you dare think that you’re a burden or that it bothers me to have to do anything for you. I love being able to do whatever it is I can for you. I’m happy whenever you’re happy baby. Your happiness is my main priority. I—I love you y/n. Fuck—do I love you. If only I knew how to form just how much I love you in to a sentence. But there aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to express what I feel for you.” 

Okay, you were definitely still hazy from last nights events. There was no way he just told you that he loved you; you had to be hallucinating. You had a hard time processing his words—your head was still pounding profusely, so maybe there was a chance you were hearing things. The laughter that fell from Mark’s lips at the sight of your blank expression broke you out of your trance and soon, he brought his hands on either side of your face and kissed you senseless. 

Unlike most of his kisses that started off gentle and gradually got more passionate the longer the two of you would make out for, he went all in and kissed you like his life depended on it. It was obvious you didn’t believe his confession, or that’s what he assumed when you didn’t respond to what he just told you. He also felt as if you were still kind of drunk; but you wouldn’t have kissed him earlier nor would you be able to continue standing up on your own if that was the case. Mark continued his movements, licking and sucking on your lips; playfully biting on your tongue and completely bringing it in between his teeth as he lifted you up on top of the counter and made his way in between your legs. 

When he didn’t feel you responding in to the kiss, he was afraid that he jumped the gun too quickly. Sure, you may have drunkenly admitted that you didn’t believe he was in love with you because he had yet to say it, but that didn’t confirm that you reciprocated the same love for him. He was expecting a completely different reaction if you did. One filled with more excitement as you found yourself on your knees taking him in and out of your mouth; showing him how happy you were with his confession. But no—to Mark’s dismay, you continued to stare directly at the wall and he felt like complete and utter shit. He should’ve waited for you to say something. You were drunk last night; it’s not like you knew what you were telling him. 

“Last night, I’m sure you must’ve thought I was BamBam, and so you told me—or I guess you thought you were telling BamBam that he lied to you that I love you because I didn’t say it myself. So—I love you. I’m sorry if I misunderstood your words and you don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready to. Just know that I do—love you. I’ll go make us some breakfast, you can come out when you feel like it okay?” 

This is what you wanted to hear for months now. Hearing his confession sent so many emotions to your chest; excitement, elation, contentment, happiness, wonder—so why were you acting the exact opposite of what you were feeling? Seeing him look so defeated made you feel like such a bitch. You could tell it must’ve took a lot of courage for him to tell you he loved you and you couldn’t even let out a word. How pathetic. I love you too. How hard was it to repeat it back to him? Especially because you’ve been practicing confessing to him for such a long time. 

You wanted to lie and say it was because your mind wasn’t all completely there, but you knew it was because you didn’t feel like you deserved his love. You didn’t deserve his adoration or the way he treated you as if you were an actual angel—but you weren’t going to let him walk away thinking you didn’t feel the same way. Mark was shocked when you practically jumped on his back and wrapped your arms tightly around him, but he grinned widely to himself at the sudden skinship. You smashed one side of your cheek against his and left a sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you too Mark. I love you so much—I’m surprised one of the boys haven’t let it slip just yet because I’ve been complaining to Jinyoung and Jaebeom for the longest time and although I trust them the most out of our friends, I wasn’t surprised when BamBam and Jackson called me out on it. It didn’t take me long to fall in love with you. I actually assumed since I’ve never experienced being in love before that it was only natural for me to fall in love with quickly; but it’s because it was you. You are such an amazing person Mark and an even more wonderful boyfriend. I will admit, I never wanted to get in to a relationship before because I was always surrounded with divorce and broken relationships. You changed my perspective on everything. I never thought anyone would love me even half as much as you do, nor did I think I was capable of being loved but here you are, proving me wrong like you never fail to do. You mean everything to me Mark. These last five months together have honestly been some of the best months in my entire life because of you. I never knew what love was before you—but now it’s been tattooed on my heart and I can never thank you enough for loving me and showing me just how beautiful love actually is. It might still be to early to say this, but you are my person Mark Tuan and I am now and forever yours.” 

You yelped once Mark practically threw you on the bed, but you weren’t complaining. As soon as you saw the sultry look of lust in his eyes, you knew your words had quite the effect on him as his did on you. For years, all you ever wanted was to experience love and what it was like to be in love. The beautiful man who was now hovering over you; scattering wet kisses all around your face and whispering sweet nothings in your ear just proved that love was real—love existed and it was such a beautiful feeling. When he began to grind himself against your hips, you were well aware of what he had in mind for the two of you. No matter how groggy and under the weather you still felt, the warm sensation between your thighs only grew more and more the longer he continued his movements. 

“M—Mark—what about breakfast—“

“Do you really want me to stop right now? I’m like seconds away from fucking the shit out of you—uh—I mean—making love to you—you just told me you loved me y/n, I’m a verbal and physical kind of guy. So now that you’ve told me, I want you to show me. Let’s fuck now then we’ll have pancakes later. Although, since we didn’t get to have our fun last night, I plan on taking some time to love on your body so breakfast might just turn in to dinner.” You playfully rolled your eyes at how vulgar your boyfriend could be, but he did had a point. He was quick to return back to sucking love bites against your jaw while running his hands along your sides. Your countless moans and silent curses at how good it all felt only encouraged him to be more rough with you. 

“I love you Mark.” He stopped his movements and sat up, looking at you with his breathtaking smile and gently punched your cheek. 

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that. Fuck, why do you have to be so damn adorable? It makes things so much harder for me—literally. I love you too baby and I plan on doing so for the rest of my life. Now, time to eat.”

In the summer, as the lilacs bloom Love flows deeper than the river Every moment that I spend with you We were sat upon our best friend's roof I had both of my arms round you Watching the sunrise replace the moon

How would you feel, if I told you I loved you? It's just something that I want to do I'll be taking my time, spending my life Falling deeper in love with you So tell me that you love me too

We were sitting in a parked car Stealing kisses in the front yard We got questions we shouldn not ask

How would you feel, if I told you I loved you? It's just something that I want to do I'll be taking my time, spending my life Falling deeper in love with you So tell me that you love me too Tell me that you love me too Tell me that you love me too

#got7 imagines #Got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

[mochegato]

The Gravity of Light

For the Jasonette July ‘Children’ prompt.  Great liberties taken here but children are mentioned several times.  If you squint hard enough, it fits.

Jason watched Marinette flit about her kitchen, truly earning her Pixie nickname.  His arm was propped on the back of the couch, fingers tapping impatiently as he sat back against the armrest so he could watch her more easily. She was humming happily to herself as she grabbed the things she needed to finish making the cake she was preparing for him.  There was no particular reason for it, she just knew he loved it so she was going to make it for him, as though she sensed his dark mood and instinctively sought to lighten it.  She had a small smile and her eyes twinkled as she worked.

This was one of his favorite things to do; watch Marinette.  He loved watching her do anything, but he especially loved watching her bake for him.  There was something very domestic about it.  It made him feel warm and secure.  It made him feel like he was home and he had a place there, with her.  That they could get married, have children, build a real life.

But he couldn’t.  He knew that. And even if he could, he didn’t deserve it, not really.  Not that life and not Marinette.  Everything in her world was light and soft and kind.  Everything in his world was dark and hard and brutal.  And the darkness overtook the light, every time. It was like a black hole.  No light could escape.  Sooner or later, all light succumbed.  Everyone in his life succumbed.  He was not willing to let that happen to Marinette.

He had tried to break up with Marinette before, several times before.  If he was being honest, he thought about it almost every day before he saw her.  But as soon as he saw her his resolve disappeared, gone just like the light or maybe it was his darkness that disappeared when he was with her.  One look in her brilliant blue eyes and he was lost.  Body and soul lost to her radiance.

But today was different.  Last night had been rough, rougher than he’d had in a while. It seemed like it had taken him hours to clean the blood off when he had gotten home.  It had gotten brutal.  He had gotten brutal.  He had gone too far and he knew it.  Nobody died, at least not yet, but it was close, close enough that it could still happen. The children the thugs had taken had seen more than they should, both before he came and while he was there.  That was where he had taken it too far.  Not what he did, but that he did it where the kids could see.  It would take years of therapy for them to get over all of it, if they ever could. Their innocence had been stolen, the brightness in their eyes dulled, and he had played a part in that.  

God, he didn’t want that for Marinette.  She still looked at the world with luminescent eyes, like it was inherently good, like people were inherently good, like everyone had a chance at redemption.  Years working with Batman had taught him differently.  The League had definitely taught him differently.  Working as a crime lord and taking down the worst of Gotham had taught him differently.  The Joker had taught him differently.  But, she didn’t have to be exposed to that.  She could keep that effervescent light that she radiated.

Finally finished with her task in the kitchen, Marinette bounded over to him, wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed him on the top of his head.  He wrapped his arms over hers and leaned back into her.  She tightened her embrace for a moment then swung around to sit on the couch next to him.  “Okay Jay, what is going on?  You haven’t made one sarcastic, smartass, or snarky comment all night. I’ve been keeping track, there has not been a single snark in sight,” she joked trying to tease a smile out of him.  “Not even a flirty comment or grab for attention.  That’s like 90% of your personality gone.”

She looked at him expecting to see at least a hint of a smile but his brow was still furrowed staring at his hands.  She looked over at him with concerned eyes and took his hand to rub circles on it with her thumb. “Hey, rough day?  …Night?  …Both?”

“I’ve been thinking…” he started, refusing to look up.

“About?”  She encouraged cautiously.

“About how amazing you are,” he said gently, looking in her eyes and pushing a strand of hair out of her face and running his thumb along her cheek.  “And how I don’t deserve you.  If I was a better man, I never would have started up with you in the first place.  And if I truly want what’s best for you, I’ll walk away.  I need to walk away.”

Marinette sucked in a breath, a hurt look crossing her face for a moment before changing to sympathy and understanding.  She knew Jason struggled and didn’t want to include her in it, but she wasn’t fragile, damn it.  And she wasn’t going to let him suffer alone.  “Don’t I get a say in that?” she asked gently.

His eyes were now pleading with her, “Mari… I’m a vigilante. And I'm not one of the good ones.  I work with low lives and scum of the earth…”

“Yes, I've met Roy.”

“That’s not…. Okay fair. Not what I meant, but fair.” He pressed his lips into a thin line at Marinette’s cheeky smile.  “Come on, I’m trying to be serious here.  I’m trying to do the right thing.  Stop being cute,” he begged.  His eyes softening as he watched her.  This is one of the reasons he could never walk away.  She knew exactly what to say to make him feel better, to make him feel like he wasn’t cursed.

“You think I’m cute?” she looked up at him with a pretend innocent look in her eyes.  He wanted so badly to kiss the smirk off of her face.  

He looked away to refocus with a huff, trying to remember the look in the kids’ eyes, trying to remember the end goal, protecting Marinette.  “There’s a reason he’s my best friend, Pixie.  I’m not a good guy."  He looked back up to her with a desperate look.  “You have a good heart and I… I don’t.  I don’t want to drag you down with me and I will if I stay with you.  Everyone who has the bad luck to be a part of my life gets sucked into the worst parts of it.  I’ve seen bad things, I’ve done bad things.  I still do.  I made choices you never would have made, choices you would never approve of.”  

She nodded in contemplation. “Maybe… I don’t know. It was different for me.  Our villains were good people who just had a bad day, well almost all of them.  They never wanted to hurt anyone in the first place.  They never would have let themselves go that far, it was the akuma that pushed them to become something they weren’t, someone they weren’t.  Your villains are terrible people who do terrible, terrible things, things I don’t think I could handle seeing.  The things you’ve seen… It’s different.  It's easier in some ways and harder in others.  I don’t know how I would have reacted in your place, if I knew they could get back out and hurt more kids.”

“I know how you would have reacted.  You would try to talk them down and to help them get better.  I mean, fuck Mari, you walk around GOTHAM with a smile on your face.  Gotham! You give out baked goods to random people on the street. Hell, your favorite color is pink!” His voice was rising now, he couldn’t control it.  She needed to understand.  “Meanwhile, I’m like the King Midas of turning things to shit.  And I don’t want you to be caught in that.”

Marinette fixed him with a firm look, eyes narrowed and lips taut. “Don’t let the pink fool you,” she admonished him.  “Just because I like pink, that doesn't mean I haven't seen god awful things, Jason.  I’ve gone through terrible things.  Done terrible things.  I've seen people die, people I loved, die right in front of me, because of me.  It wasn’t uncommon.  I've had to leave friends behind to be captured or tortured so I could complete the mission.  I’ve watched people suffer and beg for death.  I've had to push past dead bodies… so many bodies… bodies of children…” her voice got rougher and her eyes unfocused as she remembered the scene before she shook her head trying to dislodge the images, “…to survive, to stop the villain.  I've seen the world flooded and the moon destroyed. Don't think for a moment that just because I smile now, that I haven't suffered. I have suffered A LOT. I still do in a lot of ways.  I still have nightmares.  I still have flashbacks.  I still can’t go near large bodies of water without having a complete breakdown.  But, I refuse to live in fear.  I refuse to let the darkness win.  It isn’t stronger than me.  I can and will survive it.”

He looked at her in shock and horror.  She hadn’t ever spoken about her past like this before.  Anytime she discussed her time fighting Hawkmoth she made it seem like fun, like a kid’s show version of superheroes.  There were no long lasting consequences.  There was no suffering, especially not for her.  “How… how did… how can…” he stumbled over the words trying to figure out what he wanted to ask and how to form the words.  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?  You made it all seem so…  How do you… how can you… you walk around with a bounce in your step and a smile on your face like the only thing keeping you down is gravity.  How… you make it look easy.  How do you still believe there is hope.”

“Having hope has never been easy.  It is a choice; to search for light in the Darkness.  It's hard. It fucking sucks some days.  Some days I can’t do it.  Some days I…” she looked down for a moment to collect her thoughts.  “I don't deny that the darkness is there.  I’m the Guardian, Jason.  I see the darkness even when others don’t.  I know it's all around me, all around us.  And God, Gotham just seems to breed it, doesn’t it.  But, I can’t live like that.  And it’s actually kind of my job to find the balance, or cause it if I can’t find it.  So, if I can't find the light, then I'll become it.”  She smiled up at him wanly.  “You do the same, you know. You offer hope to Gotham.” He huffed out a disbelieving breath.  Marinette cocked her head to the side and cupped his face, angling it to look at her. She needed him to see how earnest she was, how deeply she believed what she was saying.  “Just because you don’t do it with a smile like Dick does, doesn’t mean you aren’t still doing it.  Kids, they see you and they know you’re going to make it okay, that you’re watching out for them.  More than any of the other vigilantes, they look to you for hope.”  

She smiled up at him and crawled into his lap, straddling his legs.  She slowly ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders, and up to his neck to run her thumbs along his cheeks.  She was now looking at him with the most loving eyes he had ever seen her use.  “You do it for me, too.  You give me hope.  Those nightmares I mentioned, I don’t have them when you’re around.  You make me feel safe.  You are my light in the dark. I’m not afraid of the darkness as long as you are there with me because I know you’ll stand by me, holding my hand as I tell it to kindly back the fuck off.”

He pulled away from her slightly to look her in the eyes, her shining eyes.  He leaned down to touch his forehead to hers before gently touching his lips to hers, quickly tilting his head to deepen it.  When she pulled away a few minutes later to look at him again he followed her and recaptured her lips pouring all of his emotions into the second kiss, trying to convey everything he felt about her, all the desperation, the guilt, the love, and the hope.  His arms wound around her waist pulling her flush against him.  Her hands found their way into his hair and gripping it tightly.  She finally broke away from him to catch her breath.

He stared in her brilliant eyes that had their own center of gravity and it made him believe; believe there was hope, believe he could have a future with her, a life, kids. That it was all possible. That maybe they could be a light for each other.  He gave in to the promise he saw in her eyes, rising up so he could push her down onto the couch, crashing his lips into hers again, as if to seal the promise.  

 Special thanks to @ethelphantom for helping with the mood music.

Tag list:

@maribat-is-lifeblood  @fsketchart @boldlyanxious @thethirdwheelfriend 

#jasonette #Jasonette July #jasonette july 2k20 #maribat

[nayarablueglasses]

Duo x male reader

a/n: oh gods this is so. anyways this was meant for day thirteen of the @gundam-wing-pride event but certain circumstances have caused me to be unable to post in time for it. the tears prompt was kept in mind for this, i hope it suffices.

word count: 2,059

summary: horrific battles never made you cry, so how did a joke from Duo manage to do it?

warnings: reader is in an active war at first, brief mentions of reader becoming deaf to loud sounds after the battle, reader has a very dry way of thinking, i haven't seen the entirety of the show in ages so i think my timeline is a little messed up

reader pronouns: he/him but comes off as gn

How’d you end up here?

You’d woken up to the extremely jarring sounds of the space station’s evacuation alarms. Considering the immediate panicking masses of people that then flooded the streets, it wasn’t the best way to wake up. Especially when you factor in that your first evacuation drill since the ‘safe space’ had been rebuilt, relocated and refortified was supposed to happen next week. Though to be fair, there were absolutely no signs that you knew of that would signal a a war erupting on your colony.

Honestly? You never were impressed by the Gundams. All you knew about them was that they were starting a war with what a few of the colonies had begun to call the “colony rebels.” The White Fang. Maybe the White Fang had started the war, but you could care less. No matter who’d started this, the colonies- your colony- was caught in the crossfires now.

And it wasn’t like you could trust the Gundams, either. It wasn’t that long ago that Gundam Pilot 04 almost blew up an entire colony because their father had been killed. If that was how the Gundams handled personal loss, your colony could only speculate on the ways they’d deal with the political difficulties of a war. And unsurprisingly, it turned out that they handled it absolutely terribly.

The scariest part was the absolute absurdness of the whole war. Two sides that claimed to speak for the colonies. The White Fang pressed attention on the colonies, while the Gundams remained an absolute mystery. Plus, the individual power struggles claiming the colonies, the Treize Faction war against Oz that was reportedly occuring back on Earth... everybody was misinformed about absolutely all of it, and the best you could do was try to make sense of the chaos unfolding and hope it never touched your poor colony.

But wishes don’t always come true. And certainly never the wishes you make.

Like the wish you’d been repeating back to yourself for the last hour- to be able to come out of this unscathed. Your arm had some thoughts on that.

As it turns out, trying to run through an active warzone to the safe space you didn’t know the location of was extremely dangerous. So dangerous that your arm had been hit with a stray bullet. Right now the main dangers were the footsoldiers firing at each other, but not that far off in the distance you could see two of the Gundams fighting a swarm of Taruses. The fact that they weren’t close was anything but comforting, since you’d seen the speed of the Gundams before on T.V.

Oh.

“Hey- get outta the way! Ya try’na get killed?” A White Fang footsoldier shoved you to the side, presumably trying to help. Instead you stumbled facedown into a very large pile of scrap metal. Which very much hurt your arm and effectively trapped your leg as well.

Fun. “The fuck kinda horror movie is this?” You muttered to yourself. Of course, of course you ran directly into the fray. Because of COURSE that was safer than the opposite direction (which in all fairness had been covered in sharp-looking rubble). That’s fine. You could work with this. What did your uncle usually tell you- take inventory in terms of crises?

You hadn’t brought a backpack with you, so, all you could take inventory on was what was in your pockets. One elastic, a single outdated coin, and fuzz. Plus, a bleeding arm and the bullet you figured was still in there, a possibly twisted and hopefully not broken foot, ringing in your ears... and the clothes on your back. Ok.

So this is how you die? Fine. That’s fucking fine. You had plenty to live for, but fine. Who cares?

“Woah-hoh, what the hell? Hey- hey handsome, you awake?”

A very neon green light pierced your consciousness. Out of habit, you tried to raise your arm to block it out- and then an even more painful, piercing feeling jolted through your whole body. “Ahh-huah- ‘m. ‘m awake now. Ohhh gods. Yeah. ‘m- yeah. Fuck. Who’re you and are you going to help me or kill me?”

“Kill you? Man, I might be the god of Death and all but I’m not going to kill you! You related to Heero or somethin’?”

“Don’t know- ow- who the fuck that is. What’s up with that green light shit> ‘M gonna be blinded if I open my eyes.”

And there the light went. Nice. If this guy didn’t kill you, you might actually survive. Sans your arm. Nobody on your colony could help your arm. You figured that life would be interesting from now on. “Great, thanks man. Fuuuuck. You- you see my arm? Yeah- I’m taking your silence as a yeah. This bitch’s fucked and moving at all is very very painful. So hey random stranger. You strong enough to carry me to the nearest amputator?”

Apparently you were just being dramatic. Your arm would 100% be still attached and your foot would survive. Your ears were… fine. After waking up in a hospital on an entirely different colony station, you learned that apparently, there exists a kind of deaf in which it was hard to hear things that were too loud. Which. You now had.

No more concerts. Meh.

The most jarring of everything was when you discovered that a) you were likely to have either trauma or ptsd and b) the guy that carried you to the hospital in his Gundam- was a Gundam Pilot. 02. Duo Maxwell. He’d brought you to Colony 14 Blue and was now reportedly “chillin’ outside until you get discharged.” with the promise that he’d bring you to the Peacemillion afterwards.

Oh. And almost everybody you knew closely had “likely” passed away in the attack. The therapy for that was going to be interesting when you consider that nobody of your family was on the colony at the time of the attack. Honestly the way they were pressing for you to be evaled made it feel like they were planning to make an example out of your supposedly poor mental state. Unsurprisingly the hospital was being run by the White Fang.

Discharge went quickly. The ride back to Duo’s Deathscythe went quickly. The ride in Duo’s Deathscythe went far, far too slowly. And adjusting to life on the Peacemillion went poorly.

Every now and again, Duo would look for you and, if he hadn’t immediately come from a fight (he passed out on your carpet once due to blood loss after being in a gunfight. Zechs was less than appreciative.), he’d bring you to the nearest colony. Being able to enjoy a day out on occasion was a rarity you usually only got to experience with Duo.

“Ooooi, Duo. Check these out. Tell me these aren’t the coolest gloves you’ve ever seen.” You held up some black fingerless gloves for him to inspect. He’d brought you to a new colony, where apparently a special holiday (complete with fun sales) was happening. Admittedly, some of the people on this station were giving you and Duo some especially strange looks whenever Duo would tug on your shirt or grab your hand to get your attention but like. Fuck them.

“Hey, those look pretty awesome!” he grinned and bounced over, snatching the gloves from your hands to look for a price tag. “To steal or not to steal, that is the question.”

You raised an eyebrow. So maybe the crush you’d developed on this overgrown child of a thief was growing. So what? It’s just a crush. Everything’s going to be fine. “Is the price tag expensive or something?”

Duo shook his head. “Exact opposite. There isn’t one.”

“Let’s just leave ten gilla and bolt, then.”

“...wicked.”

Normally the rides back home were silent and awkward, but after the rather exciting day you’d had, you were feeling especially chatty. Which wasn’t to say that there weren’t still awkward breaks in the conversation. It was quiet, sure, but a lot of things had been quiet lately. Being deaf to louder things tended to do that to a person.

Duo drew you out of your thoughts with another tug on your sleeve and pressed one of the gloves into your hand. “Here. Figured we’d both look badass with just one glove. Plus we match!” He held up his gloved left hand with an air of confidence. He wasn’t wrong, honestly. Wearing his braid the way he did, he already cut an impressive figure, but the gloves really sold the look.

You pulled on the glove he gave you, flexing your fingers to test it’s flexibility. After all, if you couldn’t engage in you and Duo’s elaborate handshake, you might have to ditch the glove altogether. Luckily the glove fit you well- functionality and style alike. Ten gilla spent well.

“Not bad. Y’think Zechs’ll get jealous?” Duo laughed at the idea.

“Doubtful, doesn’t he have Noin to get him cool stuff? Plus, I think his mask and that hair are defining accessories, what else does he need?”

You shrugged. “What gay wouldn’t love these? ‘M already enjoying mine ‘nd yours look more worn in than mine do. Solid fuckin’ proof right there.” Not like you could confirm or deny that Duo was gay. Honestly, you didn’t really care for his specific labels, but Zechs was definitely gay so it just helped further the joke. With his demeanor and his lesbian best friend? Could the flags get any gayer.

“More like pansexual on my account. Good to know your take on gender preference though. This mean I’m allowed to openly flirt with you now?” He leaned back into his seat, throwing his feet up onto the table in front of you and resting his head in his hands.

You raised an eyebrow. “Only if you promise not to ‘no homo’ me afterwards.” Duo pretended to fall backwards, clutching at the nonexistent pearls and acting offended. You two giggled when Sally came in from the cockpit to assure herself that somebody hadn’t just gotten a concussion. To which Duo immediately pretended to have a head wound of some sorts (you suspected he was being purposely vague) in hopes of attaining the candy that Sally sometimes had on hand.

Once she left (leaving you and Duo with strong warnings against fooling around more, lest Duo’s “head injury” get worse; to which you had saluted and replied, “absolutely no promises, ma’am!”) you shared a look with the brunette and tried to keep from dissolving into a fit of laughter. To your chagrin, it was a fail. You were laughing so hard that your stomach was starting to genuinely hurt. Duo was doubled over on the ground, wheezing unintelligible words and trying to hand you the lollipop that Sally gave him.

By the time you had managed to calm down and breathe, Duo was getting into the chair beside you and clutching his side. “I think I pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.”

“Yeesh, ‘m crying from laughin’ so much. Aah, this is what y’do to me.” You joked, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before,” Duo paused to think. “like, at all! Now that I think about it, didja even cry when I rescued you?” You shrugged again. The battlefield was pretty terrifying and if you hadn’t found it in you to cry from fear… well, you were feeling a lot of emotions during the whole ordeal. Who could really blame you? “Pretty tough that a fuckin battle didn’t even make you cry. Hey- my bit musta been pretty damn good to make you shed a tear!”

“Yeah, don’t let it get to y’head. ‘S just because ‘m crushin on you.” You mentioned casually, testing the waters.

“Full homo?”

“Full homo.”

Well, would you look at that. Now Duo was crying. What was with you two and tears today?

BONUS:

“You’re so cheesy.” You muttered to Duo, who was proudly holding up your guys’s fingerless gloves- which he had sewn a rainbow patch onto the back of.

He smiled, tugging your glove onto your hand. “Mhm. You love it though.”

Sighing, you returned the favour and pulled his glove onto his right hand. “You’re right. I love it. I love you.”

[all works found under the name "nayarablueglasses" are property of nayarablueglasses. please do not repost, claim as your own, or edit. i do not consent for my works to be part of any social media other then tumblr, including having my works be adapted for asmrs.]

#gundam wing #gundam wing x reader #gundam wing x male reader #duo maxwell #duo x reader #duo x heero #duo maxwell x reader #duo maxwell x male reader #oh gods i hope this doesn't flop.

[ambivalentmarvel]

so the story behind this is that @sreppub​ arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat. 

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces. 

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?” 

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?” 

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front. 

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it. 

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going. 

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement. 

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision. 

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

#tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #supreme family #iron dad #spider son #fic #tss #ambivalentmarvel #if you tag this st*rker you die by our blade

[whereflowersbloom]

Rebirth part II

She looked celestial, the words were stuck in his throat. Her dark curls cascading down her back, hyacinth eyes huge and luminous, resembling the Carina nebula, forming a hundred millions stars, stars he’s never seen before. She was the heart of a star. Her lavender satin nightgown embraces every curve of her hourglass body, clinging in all the right places and flowing out in others.

She told him about her origins. The daughter of Trigon the terrible. A half-demon and human hybrid. She could reduce him to ashes, he never met such a powerful woman. But she looked like heaven tonight. Every single day. He commanded his mind to repel those unusual thoughts, but his traitorous heart skipped a beat. In the quietude of the night it whispers her name with passion.

Her thoughts seem to be far away, standing in for r of the large French-style window, enjoying the view of the city lights in Gotham, focused on another person entirely. Him. Damian Wayne. It’s both absurd and exasperating loathing another version of yourself so much. He wonders if he would have killed him, if he were still alive and given the opportunity. She wouldn’t never forgive him, there’s no doubt in his bones. A new familiar emotion surged through Damian then. Hate, mixed with a bittersweet ache deep in his chest. Jealousy. Not a pleasant feeling, nor a common one for him. It wasn’t one e until he was involuntarily brought to this earth. What does he have to be jealous of, his counterpart is dead? Raven could be his and nobody could stop him. But it stung, a poison spreading in his bloodstream that Wayne was first to occupy a place in her heart. The first to kiss her and claim her as his. Both body and heart. He pondered Jason’s suggestion, he wasn’t his brother as he had told him with wary eyes, but he believed in second chances after Bruce welcomed him back in his home. He would never replace Damian Wayne but he could be part of their dysfunctional but interesting family. He concluded he needed more time to make a final decision. He cursed out loud without realizing and it drew her attention to him.

There it was his inherent weakness. She made him weak in the worst way possible, because she’s constantly in his head and his heart and there’s nothing he can do to get her out. Those soft eyes hiding her deep heartache, looking at him as if he was her only hope. Destiny is indeed cruel toying with his feelings on purpose, testing his limits, making him feel a whole spectrum of new and unpleasant emotions. Moments like these he wished he’d never met her. That wicked witch hadn’t cursed him, sending him to this world. But then he wouldn’t have met her and she would be alone dealing with the pain of her loss.

She has bewitched him but she isn’t his. Not yet.

“You look radiant tonight.” He sighed huskily, positioning himself beside her. He had no idea where that compliment was coming from. It plainly escaped his lips. It was true though.

Her pupils dilated in surprise at his unexpected compliment. She muttered quietly. “Thank you.” She was so beautiful if only he could…his hand instinctively stretched to touch her cheek but he withdrew his hand, denying himself the satisfaction of holding her.

“Goodnight.” He was hesitant for a heartbeat but then leaned down and kissed her forehead gently, immediately pulled away and looked into her beautiful, vivid violet eyes. He lowered his gaze, reproaching himself for lusting over this forbidden fruit. He needed to get away from her and head back to his room, the guest’s room when he is stopped by a firm tug at his sleeve.

“Wait. Stay with me tonight.” Raven bit her lip a little too hard, not enough to draw blood, she was anxious but truth is she wanted to kiss him and taste his lips, like ripe raspberries on her tongue. She wants to uncover the secrets, layers of this vicious man. She wanted to explore the real Damian Al Ghul, free and vulnerable, no shields or walls between them.

He was quiet a long moment, she held her breath tensely, maybe what she was asking for was too much. But she could sense it his fervent desire dispersing in the air. He was holding back for some unknown reason. He turned to face again finally, his forest eyes staring back at hers, getting lost in each other. Then he moved too fast for her to register the action.

The alabaster wallpaper made the walls pale in the darkness of the night, but his eyes adjusted to it and he took her in his arms, lifting her effortlessly, quietly carrying her to the king-sized bed. When her back made contact with the black and gold damask bedding, she felt suddenly exposed, the intensity of his gaze was overwhelming. It was happening. Damian positioned above her body, careful not to crush her with his weight. All air left her lungs.

“Did you know that you make the blood in my veins boils to the long I can barely touch my own skin?” His voice is husky and agitated, dark with want, it made her belly clench in response. He swallowed hard, building his the courage to bare himself before her. Who was he fooling? He was in love with her, there’s no turning back, he didn’t have any interests in going back to that desolate bottomless pit in earth-22. He cursed in his mother tongue. He could stay here and build a new life with Raven. Only one breath away from the source of thus insatiable hunger.

She blinked astonished at his frank confession, before she can speak he eagerly claimed her lips. He moved his voracious mouth against hers, let his skilled tongue press on the seam of her lips. She gasped at the hot, wet intrusion, but she found persuade is it, his tongue sliding against hers in an erotic promise that made her forget everything. The kiss grew more passionate as she tilted her head, giving him more access to her mouth to deepen it, explore every corner.

His ardent kiss had made her dizzy, her body swollen with feverish desire. He drew a ragged breath as she looked up into his face, lit with brisk hot fire. He ran his thumbs over her cheekbones, jawline, fragile clavicle, as if to prove to himself that she was real. This moment was real and it wouldn’t shatter entirely in his hands.

Lowering his face closer to her long neck, to where he could feel the pulsing of her rapid heartbeat. He found satisfaction it was his fever on her. He moved along the length of her neck until he reached the shell of her small ear, where he whispered low and urgent. “Raven” he stopped for a minute to reconsider their actions. What if she is thinking of him or regrets this in the morning?

“I’m not having second thoughts.” And as if she read his mind she spoke resolutely, her voice barely a whisper, his indecision fading-away with her words. Gooseflesh is erupting on her skin and the fine hairs on the back of his neck and arms all stand at the certainty in her voice. It’s him. So tonight, he will be leaving any doubts and the madness behind, he will allow himself to let go, if only for once. Who cared if he was beyond fucked. He loved this woman and tonight she would be his completely.

She must hold gravity in her dazzling smile, cradled away in bliss, her eyes remind him of starlight dust. She must have some ambrosial aphrodisiac within her tempting lips, for he has become hopelessly addicted to them. She smelled of lavender and rain, jasmines blooming in springtime. He was certain he would always remember this night, would become a haunting memory, as she had carved herself into his corrupted heart. So when this memory knocks, his thoughts then will flood with her. At this very instant all his past seemed so distant, as if it had been simply a blur, when all he ever knew was to kill, train and take down missions, acquire more land and treasures. But this woman. Raven. She changed everything. They were made of the same stars, bones and dust, and at first, he hated her for it. But as time passed being with her was as natural and instinctive as breathing, the kind that filled his lungs and chest that made bearing the weight of the world that much more tolerable. He didn’t know what was love before he came to this world.

She raised her hands to his cheeks, cupping his face, as his hands automatically traveled down her waist, long fingers brushing lightly over the thin fabric covering her abdomen, as if it was acting on instinct, and second nature. He wanted her out of it, explore the possibilities exposed skin offered, the intimate slow dance of lips and flesh. She gave him a small smile, and closed her starlight eyes, pulling his head down to lean their foreheads together. Damian trailed kisses down her sensitive neck, drawing a soft moan from her, as he whispered seductive and passionate words in his native tongue, only lovers know. “Oh water my soul with those liquid fire kisses that I need so much”. In quiet agreement, she reached for the hem of his shirt, Damian promptly took it off, revealing sun-kissed skin and developed muscle, and so the dance begins.

The broad expanse of his muscled chest was bare and there for her to admire. Damian Al Ghul was at the height of his prime. Damian. There so much she wanted to say to him but it’s all too new and jumbled for Raven to express properly so it remains unspoken.

His touch leaving trails of fire burning into her skin. She felt him smirk against her pearly skin before he nipped at her pulse, cradling her head as she arches up and into the sensation, his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close as he dragged his mouth to her clavicle and sucked a mark there. She didn’t care that he wanted to mark her as his. He smoothed his palm up her sides, outlining the swell of her breast and looking up at her through his long dark eyelashes. Soon her nightgown is in the way. It peels off of her like a second skin that he tossed away without any hesitation before touching the figure it was hiding. Her nipples had tightened to rock hard peaks and the curls of anticipation twisted into a coil of tension. The urge to squeeze her thighs together to try and relieve some pressure sent a wave of delight through her. Her hand fists in his ebony hair as he slowly flicked his tongue against her pink nipple and she gasped aloud, naked and wanting.

He touched her like she’s fragile, exploring the feeling of her smooth skin and lightly kissing her sensitive nipples. Fighting to just keep breathing, oh Azar, she wanted him more than anything. Paying equal attention to both breast, a sharp tightness takes shape in Raven’s gut, making her clutch on to him desperately. He wanted him closer, closer if that was possible.

Her hands are greedy against the planes of his back, her nails dug into his shoulder blades when he nipped at her clavicle again, soothing it with his tongue after, running his hands up and down her sides. She could feel the length of him pressed against her through his pants.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Damian breathed out before kissing her once again with ardor. It terrified him a little to realize just how content he would be to stay in this bed forever and map every inch of her skin with his hands and his lips. Brand her. Now he knew the image of her laying naked in this bed, goosebumps where his fingers trailed and her eyes half lidded with desire as he let his mouth follow would be burned into his memory. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself. He made his way down her body, wandering patiently, eyes scanning the pronounced curves, looking for a constellation of freckles or moles, peppering soft kissed here and there, weak moans escaping her mouth. He paused when his strong hands made contact with her hips. Rapidly, getting rid of the last piece of clothing, underwear. she could not help a shiver of sensual sensation.

Raven parted her legs for him as she reclined on her elbows. Damian grabbed her knees and pushed them further apart, then bit the inside of them as he delighted thinking about the thing he would do to her. Her toes curled as he inched closer. He ran his tongue and teeth along the inside of her leg, kissing and nipping at thin skin even as he kept his eyes on her. A wicked promise danced in those green eyes.

Damian’s cheek pressed against her center as he sucked on the inside of her thigh. Raven arched her back and whimpered in anticipation. She needed him. Now. The desire was a consuming fire in her veins, screaming at him to join and bury himself deep inside her.

Damian turned his head, nipped gently at the folds of her sex, then pulled back. He moved easily to her other thigh, then began to slowly kiss his way out to her knee. Raven moaned desperately for him to devour her, and he immediately edged his shoulder under the other leg so that he could reach around and rest a hand on her flat stomach, pinning her hips firmly in place. That’s how he wanted her.

At her knee he reversed his path, once more sliding closer and closer to his lover’s center. It was almost impossible for him to resist simply latching his mouth around her sex. Something primal in him hungered for her taste without sense or reason. He came closer and closer. Did he plan to make her beg?

Damian finally reached his destination, and began to circle her clit with teasing strokes even as he pressed a warm finger against he entrance. Teasing her until it slides inside her, after minutes he worked a second finger in and finally squeezed her clit and increased the pressure. She tugged firmly at hair, pushing him closer to source of unscratchable itch. He sucked and flicked at her clit, fingers curled inside of her. Then he abruptly stopped. She cried out and tried to roll her well-formed hips against him, but he held her firm. Damian Al Ghul was hard already, his senses overwhelmed in the most amazing way with the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way she moaned his name out again and again as her breath hitched.

“Do you know what I want to do to you right now?” His voice was hoarse. He pulled his fingers out until just the tips were inside her. “I want to have you under me and slam my cock into you as hard as I can.” He was going to drown her in this intense and insatiable want for him. “I want to feel how deep I fit.” He continued with husky voice.

“Take me.” It was all he managed to say, barely a whisper. He nodded with this characteristic wicked and playful smirk of his. Her lungs out of air, sinking in this sea of wild and sensual euphoria, profoundly overwhelming her senses. Damian, there was nothing else beyond Damian.

Damian slid his fingers out of her and studied her juices on his hand. “I have wondered how you would taste for a while.” He slid those long fingers, slowly, into his mouth and licked them clean, savoring the taste of his lover. She tasted like plums. Raven bit hard her lips at the sight.

Damian kissed her hard once more, bruising her pink lips now swollen, before he stood and let her yank at his black pants, pulling them down. He kicked off his shoes and threw the pants aside. He didn’t care where they landed. He wanted her badly. Damian focused on memorizing every aspect of her, the way she moaned as he sucked on her clavicle, her breast swaying as she moved, her delicious taste, how she whimpered when he teased her, and the expression on her face when he made her climax. He’d memorize every little detail of this night. Mine he growled.

He positioned his aroused and large manhood at her entrance, wet and hot, ready for him. He filled her wholly and completely, immediately she gasped at the awaited fullness, her body took him in a single hard push. Raven knew she was tiny next to Damian, most people were, but it was entirely different with him on top of her. She didn’t want to think shirt her Damian, no. All she could see was Damian Al Ghul, all she could feel was him, and she knew she’d feel it for days after. There was nothing but smooth skin, muscle, and that goddamn defined jawline that would be the death of her. She hooked her legs around him and let out a moan as he hit her just right, he moved instinctively, angle shifting enough that he struck that spot that sent sparks across her vision with every thrust. She tried to match his rhythm to chase her orgasm. She squeezed her walls around him with a confident grin and he very nearly erupted.

He pushed into her fast and hard, demanding more, and gave up trying to suck her breast as he gave her the very passion and force they both desired. She was panting and light beads of sweat were dripping down her forehead and chest. He held her hips tightly as he pushed into her, a little faster than before. A large hand played with her bundle of nerves, stroking his name across it, it’s something he has been wanting to try. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the thick air around them, interspersed with Raven’s gasping cries and Damian’s husky, primal groans. Both echoed across the master bedroom. Her nails dug deeper into his back, probably leaving some marks. She didn’t think Damian would mind.

She reached a hand up to lace her fingers through his and she could feel herself start to unravel. “Damian.” She half whispered, half moaned and bit down on her lower lip for a second. She was so close. The feeling as her inner muscles clenched around his cock in orgasm tipped Damian over in tandem. Her muscles tensed at the ecstasy. Raven had a sense of that epicenter she and Damian had flirted with for so long. She could feel the heart of it waiting for her and Damian to climax together. She examined minutely his dazed expression, there’s nothing like the sun kisses sunset gave his skin. All hers. They lost track of time, immersed in their lovemaking.

Raven screamed lustily as her body filled with a blinding, aching fire where they joined. An impossibly strong wave of pleasure swept over both as Raven release hit. The orgasm burst over her as she gasped his name. She fisted the blankets on the bed as she rode the brutal wave. Clamped down around his cock as he came and filled her with his seed. Damian was fairly certain the world could end around them and he wouldn’t even notice right then. It was just them in the universe, her perfect skin against his, the way it felt to find release inside her, her slender fingers threaded through his, her breath ragged and hot against his neck, the knowledge that he was the one who satisfied her need. He could not find it in him to move, sliding off of her. He wanted to hold her for a few more minutes. He can’t help but feel as if the moment would shatter if he stopped touching her, somehow everything would dissolve before him, and he would wake to the sight of an empty bed and rumpled sheets. He wanted to spend his nights with her. His Raven. She was his not Wayne’s. The ghost of her touch still lingered on his skin, the sound of his name on her lips still lingered in his devious mind, more than all that though the way she made him feel like he wasn’t so goddamn alone washed over him and he wanted more. Always. This cozy and peaceful domesticity…

“This moment.” Damian whispered heavily as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Will be the moment I remember. For always.” Yes, Damian Al Ghul admitted doubtless, he was irrevocably and hopelessly doomed.

He looked at her for a long moment, she held his thoughtful gaze at his unexpected words, she found herself speechless. Before she thinks of speaking, he leaned in to kiss her gently. It was tender, kind, like charm that touched the unknown places in her soul, and there’s a new ache in her heart. It’s as If he tried to tell her something wordlessly, like a promise made brightly that would be one faithfully kept, a love silently awakened. He hooked an arm around her waist protectively, nestling her against his chest, as if he was guarding her, telling her he belonged to him. Chest raising unsteadily as his breath recovered from the strenuous activity, preparing for the next round…later. His eyes closed briefly, getting lost in the wondrous the bliss of this moment, sighing softly. For now he only dreamed of holding her endlessly.

Happy belated birthday @xaphrin 🙈🙈🙈💜💜❤️❤️❤️🎉🎉🎁🎈

I’m sorry I’m late but I wanted to finish it. I hope you like it.

#happy birthday #damirae #demon birds #damian al ghul #damian wayne #raven roth #teen titans #batman universe #bruce wayne #jason todd #dc fandom #batfamily #fluff and smut #batsiblings #dick grayson #robrae

[thetorturerwrites]

flip zimmerman ties you down in the interrogation room, roughs you up, fucks you w/ his gun TwT I'm so sorry

Not gonna lie. I struggled with this. I feel a certain way about cops, and knowing that cop assault is a real and true thing made this take a while

However, this is fantasy. IT'S FANTASY. and dubcon is valid fantasy. If you don't like it, or you don't want cop content anywhere on your radar, please do not read further. This is the moment for everybody to adult for themselves.

If you're still here, Flip is a sexy bastard and I did ultimately get into this idea.

C/N: Non-con/dub-con; gun play aka DEAD DOVE

***

You froze in absolute shock. Terror washed over you, an icy flood that dulled your senses. When finally your chest began to work again, you unleashed the sort of howl that certainly would have drawn questions had your dirty panties not been stuffed far into your mouth. As it was, the sound only came out as a muffled, garbled half-wail.

It was his gun. His fucking gun was inside you.

“Aw. Not having a good time, Starlight?”

He all but spat the fake name at you, and you launched into another set of futile struggles. Bent over the interrogation table, you were shackled to its opposite end by the sort of cuffs he used for big, drugged-up men. They were thick, and they bit into your wrists something fierce. 

Bruises already bloomed beneath your skin from those cuffs, from the hard line of the table at your thighs, from the door frame where he’d ‘accidentally’ slammed you as he brought you in.

“I keep seeing you here.” He rounded the table, dragging his fingers along your hip. At your head, he crouched down, getting eye to eye. “What is it? Like getting fucked so much you gotta whore yourself around town?”

He stood, tangled his fingers into your hair, and ground your face into the crotch of his jeans, forcing you to feel the erection barely contained there.

“Or not getting fucked right?” He bent down to your ear, voice low but all jagged edges and disdain. “Because right now, your cunt is crying all over the barrel of my gun.”

You shook and sobbed, trying to turn away and hide your shame. You couldn’t deny that Flip was the sexiest motherfucker you’d ever seen in your life.  Nor could you deny the number of times you’d pretended the Johns were him just to make it through. 

And now, you couldn’t deny how goddamn ready your body was even in the direct center of your fear. Because your legs did tremble. Your toes were curled. Your pussy was liquid. And you absolutely were clenching tight around that gun to keep it from hitting the floor.

You told yourself it was because you’d be shot if you dropped it. But lying to yourself was a hooker’s bread and butter.

Flip cupped your cheek and dragged his thumb through your tears and runny mascara. You knew you looked like a war zone, and you knew he liked it. Reaching into your mouth, he dug out your filthy underwear and threw them on the ground. He only gave you five seconds’ worth of breath before he leaned in and bit your lower lip until you jerked against your bonds and tried to dislodge him. And then, he licked at the blood pooling there.

“Please, Flip. Please let me go. I swear you won’t see me in here again, and I won’t tell anybody about this. I will disappear! I swear.”

“The only thing I want to hear,” he dug his fingers into your cheeks so hard, you tasted new blood from where your teeth scraped, “is ‘Thank you, Detective.’”

“N-no!” You shook your head wildly, desperate to make him see reason. “You can’t do this! I’ll scream! Someone will hear you!”

The slap that walloped across your face reverberated in the little room.  Your eyes rolled back into your head, and your ears rang. You struggled to breathe as he lifted your head by pulling your hair.

“What did I fucking say?”

You whimpered and twisted, feeling the now-warmed metal shifting inside of you. Tugging on the cuffs and chains once again, you swallowed glass and looked down at the floor. When it came, your voice was small, empty, defeated.

“Thank you, Detective.”

He shoved your head back into the table and disappeared into your periphery. His fingers shifting the gun in your pussy jarred you into stillness because you were sure that any minuscule movement, any breath he didn’t like, was a squeeze of the trigger.

When it was dislodged from your body, you exhaled a shuddering sigh of relief.  Laying your cheek against the table, you sniffled and tried to hide the new dribble of tears.

“Thank you, Detective.”

Seeming pleased with your memory, he rewarded you with a ‘Mm’ and shook your ass to watch it jiggle. It was what came next that catapulted you into a new wave of panicked fight.

His two large fingers scooped through the slick still leaking out of your pussy and rubbed them up in a line between your buttocks. You stomped and tried to push the table away from him, and yourself with it. You shouted objections again and again, but he ignored it all, and you started to believe either you’d be gang raped by the whole force or nobody else was here to help you.

You doubted they would care about a lowly prostitute anyways, and you dissolved into sobs all over again.

First it was a finger, rubbing in the tangy lubricant and breaching the perimeter. Then it was two, stretching you bit by bit until you gasped. Finally, it was oval metal, and you wailed at the burn of it. You dropped into delirium as he lodged his .45 into your ass good and deep.

He cracked you so hard on the ass, you jumped right back into yourself.

“T-tha…thank you, D-detective.”

The jangle of his belt drew your attention. You dared not look over your shoulder, but you spent many a night wondering what his dick looked like. Your mouth watered on its own, without the rest of you, and you angrily spat blood on the floor. What a fucking traitor, your body.

He didn’t give you any warning. There wasn’t a gentle nudge against your labia or a smear through your wetness to get you ready. He just wedged the fat head of his cock into your opening and thrust in with brute force. And once the seal was broken, he gouged at your cunt inch by torturous inch until it made room for him.

“Fuck, you’re tight for a whore.”

You gasped and cursed under your breath. You were only tight because he was so fucking big. Wide and long, you thought you could surely feel the end of his dick in your gut when he finally bottomed out.

“Thank you, Detective.” It was half a groan and half a whisper.

Flip squeezed your hips hard, leaning into you to claim that last centimetre of your pussy. Digging his nails into your meat, he pulled nearly all the way out only to slam back in with a grunt. He stretched you with each drag, and you thought he was going to pull your cervix out on the recoil.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Flip.” 

He didn’t chastise you for the mistake. He only wrapped his hand around the gun and pushed it further into you. You felt his finger slide against your ass cheek to rest at the trigger, and you shook your head wildly.

“Nonono! I’m sorry! THANK YOU DETECTIVE.”

Seemingly satisfied, that dangerous hand tangled into the skirt bunched around your middle and used it as a handle to pull your body back into his jarring hips. He threw himself into a terrible, rough pace, and you fought to breathe. You couldn’t even moan. Every crash of his body against your ass shook loose a whimper.

It was too much. Your head lolled, your eyes blurred, and your mouth hung open, adding drool to your tears. His dick was mind-numbing, shooting off fireworks deep in your core and spreading fire to lick up the length of your spine.

The weapon in your ass only added to your insanity because how fucking sick was it that your cunt clenched every time it moved, every time you remembered that it was there.

You only partially heard him suck in a hiss of breath through gritted teeth, and you could only sort of feel the smack of his thighs against yours. Every ounce of your attention was centered upon the drag of his cock and how much deeper, wider he fucked you with every pass.

“Mm, that’s it. Tighten up that pussy. You must get paid real well for this good cunt.”

His words prompted your body to obey without question. Your everything tensed, contracting around his pistoning cock. You even stood onto your toes to give him that much more of your eager pussy, to hear the squelch of him fucking you bounce off the bare walls.

Pleased by your vulgar display, Flip rammed your sloppy cunt, choking off your breath with obscene bliss. He growled and gripped his gun tight, losing himself to the control, to the downright meanness of it. 

Flushing, burning up, you clung to the table, unable to do anything else but hold on. He wouldn’t let you cum; it wasn’t about you. You were nothing but some two-bit hooker, a hole to fill. Tears stung your eyes at the fight within because part of you wanted to be upset that you weren’t a person in his eyes, and part of you didn’t give a single shit as long as he kept fucking you like this.

His groans increased, thundering from his chest in the most enticing way. He heaved and lifted you off of your feet in his frenzy to get just the angle he wanted. And when he did, when you were tipped just the perfect way, he roared and buried his cock as far into you as he could.

As his orgasm surged, he tore the .45 from your ass and fired off four rounds into the floor. You jumped and cried out, convinced that he shot you, that he ended your useless, worthless life at the end of his dick.

The weapon clattered to the floor, though, within your line of sight if only to prove to you that you weren’t dead. You quaked with adrenaline - fear and fucking melting your mind. Dazedly, you stared at the wall, eyes glossy and blinking slow.

“Th-thank you, Detective.”

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #torturer tuesdays